I’ve stopped shivering. My entire body is enveloped in a warm numbness. I was wrong; I couldn’t wait her out. I don’t have the strength to swim to shore, let alone make it down the mountain to the telephone. All I can do is sit in the puddle of my blood and wait for the sun to go down. Or pass out. Whichever comes first.

Either way, once the darkness comes, I know I’ll never see the light of day again.

CHAPTER 21

HANNAH SITS IN front of her computer monitor. The whole article is there on her screen, perhaps her finest piece of investigative journalism to date. It’s a twenty-inch story giving an unbiased and thorough account of who Logan is, from his various runins with the law to his recent heroism.

Hannah’s editor is leaning over a nearby desk, talking to the designer who will be laying out the A section tonight. She looks over at Hannah and says, “Any progress on that feature article about the hero? We need a good story to anchor tomorrow’s front page.”

Hannah looks again at her article. It’s a great story.

It’s also Logan’s death warrant.

She shakes her head no, and Ashley gives her a look that says she doesn’t quite believe her. Then she goes back to her conversation with the designer.

Hannah highlights all the text of the article. Her finger hovers over the Delete key for a moment, then she presses it. The article disappears.

She rises from her desk and heads to the parking lot. She drives over to Logan’s house, feeling a compulsion to tell him in person. A phone call won’t do. She knows he has a girlfriend. She tells herself she wouldn’t want to be his girlfriend anymore anyway, not after knowing what she knows. But that’s probably not the truth, if she’s being honest with herself. She wants to see him. She wants to look him in the eyes and say, “I believe the real Logan Bishop is the man who jumped into the water to save that girl. I don’t care about what you’ve done in the past. I know who you are.”

But Hannah’s heart sinks when she walks up Logan’s front walk. She can see his girlfriend’s blond hair in the window, moving about the kitchen. When Hannah first met the girl, she hadn’t trusted her. Claire showed up at the paper as soon as the article was published, telling Hannah she was an old friend of Logan’s and wanting to know how she could find him.

Hannah had told her where Logan worked out, and she’d regretted it immediately. She didn’t believe the girl was an old friend. She looked like an opportunistic little slut hoping to hook up with the handsome hero in the newspaper.

Hannah bangs on the door.

No one answers.