Rachel hip checked the door and dropped the box of research on the floor before shrugging off her laptop bag. Switching hands on the unwieldly pizza box, she removed her coat and let it fall as well. Her entire body was tired. She’d been living this case and simultaneously trying to build her brand.

Yeah, she was ambitious, but this case also had to do with Huck.

She missed him. Missed the way he’d looked at her and missed the way he’d taken care of her. Life wasn’t safe, but he’d made it feel that way. Why hadn’t she appreciated how he protected her from any danger? Kicking off one boot, she hopped until she could get the other one off, and then walked on the hard tile to the kitchen in the darkness, dodging around the boxes she had yet to unpack.

Her phone tinkled, and she tugged it free of her pocket. “Hello.”

“Hey. It’s Sandy Simpson. We have it on good authority that the FBI has been calling in the Genesis Valley mayor’s kid for interviews on the Witch Creek killings. The kid has a juvie record, but we can’t get hold of it.” Sandy was a researcher for Rachel’s station, and she had excellent confidential sources.

Rachel’s blood hummed. The mayor’s kid? “I want that record. I don’t care who you have to bribe.”

Sandy snorted. “You’re not famous yet. We don’t have the kind of budget for bribery. The best I can do is try to interview the kid when he leaves school or maybe talk to some of his friends. You know how kids like to go viral.”

“I do. Okay. Get me what you can tomorrow and get some sleep.” Rachel ended the call, wide awake again. If the mayor’s kid was actually the serial killer, her ratings would rise faster than even she could dream.

This case was absolutely perfect—just like she’d studied in journalism school. A crazy killer who left flowers after stalking victims being chased by a photo-worthy Fish and Wildlife officer working with a brilliant and bizarre FBI agent? She couldn’t make this stuff up. The situation was as good as scripted. It was ideal for building her new show.

A rope wrapped around her neck.

She screamed, but the sound was cut off as the rope tightened. A sharp kick to the back of her ankle had her falling onto her knees. Her head jerked back. The pizza box flew away and landed noisily somewhere in the darkness. Gasping, tears filling her eyes, she clawed at the rope.