Though he didn’t know quite what to make of the smile, the organization’s president was too intelligent to press his luck when he was about to pull off a coup. “If you’re ready, then, I’ll announce you.”

“Any time.”

Hunter followed him into the Canyon Room, then loitered just inside the doors. The room was already buzzing with anticipation and curiosity. The podium was set on a small stage in front of two hundred chairs that were nearly all filled. Talk died down when the president approached the stage, but continued in pockets of murmurs even after he’d begun to speak. Hunter heard one of the men nearest him whisper to a companion that he had three publishing houses competing for his manuscript. Hunter skimmed over the crowd, barely listening to the beginning of his introduction. Then his gaze rested again on Lee.

She was watching the speaker with a small, polite smile on her lips, but her eyes gave her away. They were dark and eager. Hunter let his gaze roam down until it rested on her lap. There, her hand opened and closed on the pencil. A bundle of nerves and energy wrapped in a very thin layer of confidence, he thought.

For the second time Lee felt his eyes on her, and for the second time she turned so that their gazes locked. The faint line marred her brow again as she wondered what he was doing inside the conference room. Unperturbed, leaning easily against the wall, Hunter stared back at her.

“His career’s risen steadily since the publication of his first book, only five years ago. Since the first, The Devil’s Due, he’s given us the pleasure of being scared out of our socks every time we pick up his work.” At the mention of the title, the murmurs increased and heads began to swivel. Hunter continued to stare at Lee, and she back at him, frowning. “His latest, Silent Scream, is already solid in the number-one spot on the bestseller list. We’re honored and privileged to welcome to Flagstaff—Hunter Brown.”

The effusive applause competed with the growing murmurs of two hundred people in a closed room. Casually, Hunter straightened from the wall and walked to the stage. He saw the pencil fall out of Lee’s hand and roll to the floor. Without breaking rhythm, he stooped and picked it up.

“Better hold on to this,” he advised, looking into her astonished eyes. As he handed it back, he watched astonishment flare into fury.

“You’re a—”

“Yes, but you’d better tell me later.” Walking the rest of the way to the stage, Hunter stepped behind the podium and waited for the applause to fade. Again he skimmed the crowd, but this time with such a quiet intensity that all sound died. For ten seconds there wasn’t even the sound of breathing. “Terror,” Hunter said into the microphone.