“It’s okay.” He moved a box off the sofa and sat, patting her hand. Eons ago, he’d thought he was in love with her, and those feelings were long gone. But he didn’t want her to be terrified. “Take a deep breath, hold it, and breathe it out.” It was a technique he’d learned from one of his counsellors, and sometimes it could work. “Trust me. Try it.”

She did so and soon her breathing grew steady, although she was so pale, she looked like she was about to pass out.

“Tell me everything. You’re safe now.” He listened to her relate the events of the night, his gut churning.

Finally, Rachel wound down. “Why would Laurel Snow send somebody to threaten me? I’m just doing my job, and if she does hers, it’s all as it should be. Why would she do this?”

“She wouldn’t,” Huck said, running a hand through his mussed hair. He hadn’t bothered to brush it when he’d gotten the call. “This doesn’t make any sense. It could be the killer messing with us, or it could be some whack job harassing you.”

“No.” Rachel vigorously shook her head. “He insisted that I not call the police. He didn’t want notoriety. His only goal was to frighten me enough to back off Laurel and you.” Her hands plucked at the plush blanket over her shoulders. “Would she hire somebody to protect you?”

This was getting out of hand. “Rachel, think about it. Anybody with half a brain would know you’d call the authorities the second you could breathe again. You’re also a reporter and an incredibly ambitious one at that. No matter what this person said to you, if you lived through this, you weren’t going to be quiet. You were not going to give up on your story.”

She swallowed and then winced, putting a shaking hand to the raw skin on her neck. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. But one thing for sure is that this person wants publicity.” If it was the killer, he was looking for more news about himself than he’d been receiving so far. If not, then who could it possibly be? “Are you sure it was a man?”

“I’m not sure of anything. It could’ve been a man, woman, kid . . . just somebody with a lot of strength and a voice distorting mask or something.” A tear leaked down her face but her chin began to firm. “I need to go live in a few minutes. Can I interview you?” There she was. Rachel was back.