“So true. If you’re with her, avoid those shops like the plague.” Kit rolled her eyes. “She’ll sniff every candle, fondle all the linens, test the lotions.”

“Naturally. And—ta-da—even the Hermitage can have luxuries.” Frankie plopped three gift bags on the table. “These have lotion, foam bath, and body wash. Audrey, yours is the one with a hint of lemon. JJ, orange and cedar. Kit, you get the lavender-vanilla combination.”

As JJ and Audrey oohed and ahhed, Kit opened the top of her lotion and sniffed. Lavender was good for relieving stress and enhancing relaxation. Mingling with the clean, crisp scent was the lovely fragrance of vanilla.

“Thank you. But that was sneaky, Yorkie,” Kit said, using Hawk’s nickname for the New Yorker. By giving gifts to the three of them, Frankie’d ensured that Kit couldn’t protest getting charity.

“Devious, that’s me,” Frankie said smugly, not at all fazed. Not much upset her—and when it did, everyone knew. She’d yell, swear, and cry with equal ease.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be so uninhibited? Or to be as comfortable in her skin as Frankie was?

Kit had liked her own body…before. Now, after the PZs, it sometimes felt as if her body was a hotel room where no one lived. As if her mind wasn’t linked to it at all.

The counselor had told her she should try getting in touch with her physical parts. Like, hey, breasts, how are you feeling today?

Kit had laughed at the time. Today, though… She picked up the gift bag. Maybe it was time to get back in touch.

Chapter Sixteen

Q: What’s the difference between God and a Night Stalker?

A: God doesn’t think he’s a Night Stalker.

Hawk squinted against the blinding sunlight, then donned his sunglasses as he strode across the long expanse of tarmac. In the cloudless sky, a plane buzzed like an annoying bee as it circled, then came in for a sweet touchdown.

Pleasure swept through him. If he couldn’t be in Alaska, at least he was around planes. Speaking of which…

Yeah, there was Sanchez’s jet. The small executive airport had excellent service, and the plane had been moved out of the hangar for them.

He headed that way, the light breeze ruffling his uniform shirt. August in Brazil was pretty—although damned if he wouldn’t far prefer to be home.

Over the past two weeks, he and deVries had tried to uncover the informant in Sanchez’s staff. Every few days, a different suspect would be fed advance notice of their boss’ plans. Each time, deVries and Hawk prepared a trap. So far, no results.