“You think it’s him?” she asked.

Warren glanced over at her and then back at the road.

“It’s possible,” he said. “The shop owner sure didn’t know him as well as he thought.”

Tara knew he was referring to the marks on Greg Davis’s wife. Warren’s words were short, as they usually were, yet he didn’t need to elaborate. His voice was laced with doubt, which only justified Tara’s own inner feelings. It was something that was left unsettled within her gut—that this would be too easy and that this killer seemed too smart. After all, he was smart enough to take the arrows, the belongings of the victims, and the bodies of the first two. Yet, he left the compasses strategically. Everything about the crime scene was strategic. And at that thought, the same question crossed her mind: would someone who thought so thoroughly about not leaving evidence fail to think of store cameras?

She glanced over at Warren once more.

“Part of it just doesn’t add up to me,” she said. “The cameras…why would he be so careful about not leaving evidence at the crime scenes but yet let himself be seen?” She turned to Warren in her seat. “Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

Warren nodded. “You think he’s too smart?” he asked.

“Don’t you?”

Warren pulled into a long driveway. “It’s definitely something I’ve thought about,” he confirmed. “But we need to be prepared for the worst.”

His words lingered in the car as it bounced along the unpaved driveway. He was right; they needed to be mentally prepared for the worst, even if they had doubt in their mind.

Tara stared in front of her as a weathered log cabin came into view. It was a decent size, surrounded by only the forest. But unlike the house they just came from, this cabin showed the marks of time—a discoloration in the wood and a roof that needed new shingling. A car was in the driveway and Tara braced herself for the man they were about to meet. As Warren put the car in park, Tara heard something. At first it was only faint, but she listened intently and when the car shuddered to a halt, she could hear it clearly—it was unmistakably a woman’s scream, and it sent a shiver up Tara’s spine.

“Do you hear that?” she asked as she quickly let out her seatbelt.

Warren didn’t even reply. He pushed his car door open and they both jumped out, Warren reaching around his waist for his gun before holding it out in front of him.

“Mills, I want you to go around and guard the back,” he whispered over the hood of the car.

She nodded, watching him as he hurriedly raced toward the front door. Tara held out her gun, steadying it in her hand as it shook anxiously—her heart pounding against her chest. Each time the woman screamed, it sent a jolt through Tara’s body.

It was a sudden panic taking over, she knew, for she had been prone to the feeling many times before. But this time was different. She couldn’t allow it to happen.