"A lunatic."

"Close enough." His eyes held hers. "A lunatic who's possessive. He thinks he owns you, that you're his. Remember the line 'My woman' in the poem?"

"Hard to forget." She rubbed one arm. "d.a.m.ned hard."

"The FBI is working on a profile."

"And that will automatically point to whoever this monster is?"

"Unfortunately, no." He shook his head, stretched his back. "But we will get him, Jenna. We're closing in."

"G.o.d, I hope so." She sat next to Carter on the hearth, felt the heat of the crackling flames, felt a little stronger being close to him. "It seems like he's trying to force me to leave. Like he's trying to scare me out of my house. Why would he want that?"

"I don't know," he said. "Do you have any ideas?"

She shook her head, searched for answers she didn't have.

Lieutenant Sparks had squared his hat on his head and was pulling on thick gloves. "You staying?" he asked Carter.

"Yeah."

"And the bodyguard?"

"He'll be outside. He's out there already, got a bird's-eye view of the place and won't sleep until daylight. I'll be inside."

Sparks nodded, flashed his smile. "Good luck. I'll call you in the morning, let you know what the lab comes up with on the finger and if we've got a match on the rings."

"Thanks." Carter stood and shook the bigger man's hand. "And I want you to check on something for me."

"What?"

"Wes Allen. See what kind of an alibi he has for the nights the women were abducted."

"You think he's involved?"

"Wes?" Jenna asked, stunned. She shot to her feet. "Wait a minute. He's a friend of mine."

Carter ignored her. Held Sparks's stare. "Double-check, would you?"

"You got it."

"I said 'he's a friend of mine,'" she protested.

"Then he'll have nothing to hide."

As Sparks closed the door behind him, Carter locked it, turned on the alarm system, then watched through the curtain of snow as the state vehicle left and Turnquist forced the gate shut. It was nearly two in the morning.

"Why do you suspect Wes?"

"I suspect everyone."

"But you didn't have everyone's alibi checked."

He ran a tired hand around the back of his neck. "Jenna, there are things I can't discuss."

"This is my life, Carter. My girls' lives! You d.a.m.ned well better tell me what's going on."

"I will. Soon."

She wasn't about to be mollified. Stood toe-to-toe with the tall sheriff. "I have the right to know. What is it that makes you think Wes is involved? Wes is Rinda's brother!"

"And I've known him all my life. I'm just eliminating people."

"By what means?"

His lips tightened and his eyes glittered darkly. "I'll explain it all soon, okay? But I can't tell you anything that might compromise the investigation."

"Now, wait a minute, Carter-you can't just drop this kind of bomb and then ask me to be patient. Not after what's been going on. Why Wes?"

He hesitated, bit at the fringe of his moustache, and finally swore. "Oh, h.e.l.l. You deserve to know."

"d.a.m.ned straight!"

"But I can't tell you everything. I'm not going to compromise this investigation."

"Of course not, but give me a clue here."

A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "For one thing, he's the person who has rented and bought more of your videos and DVDs than anyone in town."

"So?" she said, shaken nonetheless. The thought of Wes Allen viewing her in the privacy of his home over and over again made her uncomfortable, but it would with anyone she knew. Though she considered her roles on film, her career, work she was certainly not ashamed of, her art could easily be twisted into someone's particular form of depravity.

"And he visits all your fan sites. Often."

"A lot of people do." Again she had a sense of unease and remembered all the times Wes had tried to get close to her in the theater. "I would think since I moved here there's been a lot of interest in my work. Lots of copies rented and bought."

"But Wes Allen seems to be your biggest customer-number one fan. We're just ruling him out."

She thought about all the times she'd been around Wes Allen. How close he'd stood. How often he'd touched her shoulder, or arm. Friendly? Interested? Or obsessed? "I can't believe it," she whispered, but a part of her readily accepted what Carter had suggested, the part that caused the taste of bile to rise in the back of her throat.

"There's nothing to believe. Not yet. I'm just being cautious," he said, but she noticed the set of his jaw, the determined glint in his eyes. He was convinced that Wes was somehow involved. "You'd better sleep," Carter said, as if he'd noticed Jenna's weariness for the first time.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

"Sure." She reached up and ran a finger down the beard-stubble on his cheek. "You already look dead on your feet."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Yeah. You should," she mocked.

Jenna knew she'd never sleep upstairs. She couldn't go back to her room with its fingerprint dust and haunting memories, so she shut the doors to all the rooms upstairs and after stopping at the closet, returned to the den with pillows and quilts. She tossed a pillow and hand-st.i.tched coverlet to Carter. "Just in case." Then she walked through the French doors that led to the living room and settled onto the couch. Carter searched the house one last time-she heard his footsteps as he walked into every room and closet-then finally joined her, taking a seat in an overstuffed chair and resting a boot heel on an ottoman.

"Rest," he suggested.

Yawning, she said, "You should, too."

His mouth slashed into that irreverent smile she'd grown to love. White teeth showed beneath his moustache. "You know what they say about rest and the wicked."

"I thought it was 'the weary.'"

"Close enough," he said. "Tonight, believe me, I'm both."

"Me, too," she said, closing her eyes and refusing to think of Wes Allen. "Me, too."

In stocking feet, Carter walked through the house one last time. He'd been awake for over twenty-four hours. His nerves were jangled and he was rummy, but they were safe. At least for this night. The sun would be up in a couple of hours and the storm seemed to be winding down. It was still cold as all h.e.l.l, but the wind had lessened and the snow had stopped falling. He sat at the kitchen table, where he could see into the den where the kids were dead to the world and had a peek-a-boo view of the living room couch, through to the fireplace, to watch Jenna as she slept.

Drinking coffee that had started to bother his stomach, he thought about the day to come and what he intended to do, starting with going over the evidence possibly linking the crimes, Wes Allen's alibis, his motives and getting the search warrant to go through his house and barns. Those huge buildings that had stood empty for years. Maybe there was more to be found than the shrine/video room tucked in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

From the living room, he heard a moan.

Carter shot to his feet and hurried to the couch where Jenna thrashed, her features pinched in distress. "No!" she said, though her eyes didn't open. "No, please."

"Jenna," he whispered and noticed she was shaking. "Jenna. Wake up. It's okay. I'm with you."

"Don't. Oh, don't."

"Jenna," he said a little more loudly, his hands gently holding onto her trembling shoulders. "Wake up. You're dreaming."

Her eyes flew open.

Startled, she nearly screamed.

"Shh. Hush, darlin'. You're all right," he said, placing his face close to hers so that, in the half light from the fire, she would recognize him.

"Oh. Oh." She blinked and tears fell from her eyes. Her face was pale as death, and she was shivering as if cold to the bone.

"Everything's fine."

She sniffed and shook her head. He sat next to her on the couch, still holding her, and she burrowed her head into his shoulder. "It was Ca.s.sie again. He had her...that faceless b.a.s.t.a.r.d had her!"

"She's okay. Asleep in the den."

Jenna was inconsolable. Wrapped in a quilt, she walked to the den and peered inside where both her daughters were sleeping. Even the dog didn't move. Pushing her hair from her eyes, she seemed to calm a bit. "What time is it?"

"Too early."

"And?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary has happened since you dropped off."

"Thank G.o.d." She stretched, pulling the quilt up. It gaped open and her sweater slid up the flat wall of her abdomen. He felt his groin tighten. "I should get up."

"You should sleep."

"What about you?" she asked around a yawn, as she dropped her arms to her side.

"I'm fine."

"A man of steel?"

He laughed. "Maybe that's a little too strong. I'm probably more like a man of aluminum foil."

She smiled, and the hint of teeth he saw against her lips was tantalizing, made his thoughts run in unwanted, dangerous directions. "Steel or tinfoil, I don't really care," she admitted and stepped up to him, "I'm just glad you're here." Her green eyes found his. "Thanks, Carter. I guess I needed you last night." She said it as if it were a fact and he didn't argue.

Instead, though he knew he was being the worst kind of fool possible, he slipped his hands beneath the quilt, drew her close to him, and kissed her. Softly at first, feeling her warm, pliant lips respond, and then, not thinking of the consequences, his arms around her tightened, his mouth pressed harder against hers.

Parting her lips, she sighed into his open mouth and he was undone.

l.u.s.t fired his blood.

He didn't know how long it had been since he'd kissed a woman, but it was too d.a.m.ned long. And he'd been wanting this one ever since he'd pulled her over on the snowy highway. She wanted him, too. He felt it in the way she fit up against him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s flattened against his chest, her arms circling his neck, holding him firmly to her, her legs parted as she stood on tiptoe. He pushed one leg between those legs, felt the zipper of her jeans rub against his thigh, heard a wanton groan escape her lips.

His hands splayed against her back, fingers rubbing her sweater, feeling the firm flesh beneath the soft angora, and he drowned in the scent and feel of her. His body screamed for release, muscles tight, mind weary, s.e.x an easy and welcome antidote to all that was wrong in the world. She was so beautiful, so erotic, so d.a.m.ned s.e.xy, and every nerve ending itched for the relief she could give.

Don't do this, Carter. Use your head. She's a victim, a woman you're supposed to protect, a Hollywood princess who has been wanted by every man she's ever met. Don't do this.

But her body was rubbing against him and her mouth opened so easily to his. He felt her nipples through her sweater and bra, hard b.u.t.tons that he ached to touch, to kiss, to pull on with his teeth.

His heart was pounding crazily, his blood thundering through his brain, his erection at full mast. His lungs were so tight, he was breathing shallowly, his mind running in reckless circles. He imagined what it would feel like to make love to her, to feel her warm, moist body sheathing his, to look down upon her beneath him, black hair splayed around her face, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s full, her nipples dark and hard with want, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as he pushed into her and began to move. All night...it would take all night and more.

But he couldn't. Not here. Not like this.

He lifted his head and was nearly lost again when he stared into the slumberous, erotic eyes of Jenna Hughes. "I can't," he said, though his body was screaming that he was making the biggest mistake of his life.

"I know."

"The kids," he lifted a hand in the direction of the den.

"I know."

She was tugging on him, walking backward, leading him through the living room and down two steps to a guest room. Empty. Cold. Dark.

"We shouldn't," she said, but threw her arms around his neck again and kissed him feverishly.

His willpower fled and he shut the door behind her and twisted the dead bolt without lifting his head. He peeled off her sweater, his hands anxious for the weight of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his palms. She was gasping as the sweater hit the floor and he yanked a bra strap over her shoulder to expose her breast. Her fingers were fumbling with the hem of his shirt and he pulled it off, then lifted her onto his hips and took her breast in his mouth, anxiously. Hungrily. She moaned and held on with one arm, letting her head loll backwards as he suckled.

This is a mistake, his mind hammered at him, but he ignored it. You'll mess everything up. If you do her, Carter, your career, your life, everything that you've worked for will be gone.