asked.
“Some guy showed up with a news crew an hour ago. He says a woman was attacked here this morning. They aired a live interview snippet, and people started pouring in to have a look at the crime scene. Campers are scared. Some are leaving. The phone won’t stop ringing.”
Blake could barely hear the phone inside the little guard booth. He climbed onto a massive tree stump painted with the park hours and strained for a better look at the crowd near the white van. A man in Dickies and flannel stood beside a woman Blake recognized from the Channel Six News team. If that man hadn’t saved Marissa, Blake would’ve been tempted to escort him out of the park violently.
The ranger fixed Blake with an expectant look. “What should we do?”
As if on cue, the sheriff’s cruiser rolled into view, bouncing through the grass alongside a line of waiting cars. Blake whistled and waved to his brothers as West angled between the guard gate and overcrowded lot. No other cars would get in until he moved.
Cole jumped out. “We’ve got this. You got her?” He flicked his gaze to Blake’s truck.
Blake nodded and shook the ranger’s hand, eager to get back to Marissa. “Sheriff and Deputy Garrett will take it from here.” He jogged back to the truck and climbed inside. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Good.” He wrenched his truck free from the line and parked it in the grass beside the news van.
He pocketed the keys and turned for Marissa. “Ready?” The alarm in her eyes stunned him into silence. She’d put on a brave face at the station, but there was no confidence in her expression now. A distant part of him longed to comfort her somehow, but that wasn’t his place. She probably had a long line of people waiting to fold her into their arms and ease her fear. Blake’s job was to stop a madman.
She turned weary eyes on him. “Yes.”
“Don’t worry.” The statement was out before he’d thought better of it. Then, already heading downhill, he made it worse. “I won’t let him hurt you again.” The words soured on his tongue. How could he promise to protect her? He’d let Nash get away once already. Wasn’t it technically his fault that Nash had gotten ahold of her at all?
Marissa lifted her chin and rolled her shoulders back. “Thank you for saying so, but I’m not afraid.” The lie was evident in the lines gathered across her forehead, but Blake didn’t argue.
He climbed out and met Marissa on her side of the truck. “Why don’t you take me to where you left him?”
“Sure.” Marissa led the way down a gravel and mud path from Blake’s makeshift parking spot to the trailhead. “I started here around five thirty.”
“Miss?” A woman’s voice carried over the drone of the crowd. “Miss? Excuse me.” The Channel Six reporter hurried in Marissa’s direction waving a microphone. Her pink dress suit and pearls were sorely out of place in the park. Her pointy heels sank into the ground with each hurried step. Worse, she wasn’t alone. She was a mama duck, trailed by her cameraman, the guy who’d driven Marissa to the station and a row of nosy locals craning to get a look at the victim.
Marissa made a soft squeaky noise and Blake’s hackles rose. He widened his stance and lifted a palm in the reporter’s direction. “Stop right there.”
“Absolutely.” She fluffed her hair and straightened her jacket. “I’m Linda Somers, Channel Six News. And you are?” She eyeballed the badge around his neck. A sugary-sweet smile curved her lips.
The cameraman positioned himself near a tree and hoisted the camera onto one shoulder, arranging his shot. A little red light blinked at the side of his lens. He gave Linda a thumbs-up.
Her smile widened. “Are you here to investigate this morning’s attack, Federal Agent...” She left the sentence hanging.
“That’s Blake Garrett,” someone called from the crowd. “He’s the sheriff’s brother.”
Damn small towns. Blake ground his teeth. “Please direct your questions to Sheriff Garrett.”
“Is this the victim?” she asked. Pencil-thin eyebrows rose behind her bangs.
The man who’d called this fiasco into action nodded. “Yeah. That’s her. I found her running along the county road, crying.”
“You’re certain?” the reporter asked.
“Positive. I wouldn’t forget picking up a lady dressed like that.”
Marissa wrapped both arms around her middle and glared at the man. Her outfit might not be camera ready, but she was dressed appropriately for a run, which was likely the only thing she’d expected to do before her shower.
Blake groaned. “She has no comment.” He moved between Marissa and the reporter.
The cameraman honed in on them.
“What’s your name, Miss?” Linda asked. “Are you from Cade County? Do you come here often? How long have you known Federal Agent Garrett?”
Heat from Marissa’s body warmed his side. Her fingers pressed against his back as she stepped into view of the mob forming along the trailhead. He should’ve guessed she’d refuse to stay behind him. Fire churned in his gut. The bigmouthed reporter had taken the only tactical advantage Blake had over Nash—surprise. Now, Nash would know Blake was there, and the games would begin again before Blake was ready.
Blake scanned the crowd for his enemy. What if seeing him with Marissa fueled Nash’s need to get his hands on her again? What if Blake’s presence put her in more danger? As if the fact she’d gotten away wasn’t reason enough for him to come at her again.
West and Cole arrived a moment later, waving their badges and hollering instructions at the crowd.
“That’s our cue.” Blake wound his fingers around Marissa’s wrist and tugged. “Let them take care of the crowd. Let’s get back to what we came for.”
* * *
MARISSA TOOK THE LEAD, but her stomach protested the trip, and her limbs strained against her. Instinct begged her never to return to the place where she’d nearly been abducted, but resolve pushed her forward. Whether she wanted to go or not was irrelevant. Who knew how many more women would be in danger if the man who grabbed her wasn’t caught? Images of the awful moments flooded her mind, lifting the fine hairs along the back of her neck, and resurrecting another memory. A shiver rolled through her.
“What’s wrong?” Blake’s voice was low and cautious.
She scrubbed a hand over her lips. “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“There was a man who tossed bread crumbs into the lake this summer. He was always there when I came back from my morning runs. That guy had a black hoodie like the man I saw today at the lookout. I know it’s not much, and everyone owns a black hoodie, but it could be something, right?”
“Anything could be something. You saw him more than once?”
She squinted against the brilliant sunlight, desperate for a more useful memory or detail. “He was there every morning for a while. Then, one day he just wasn’t.”
“Did he see you?”
“I think so. I’m hard to miss after five miles up and down a mountain.” She heaved a sigh. “I probably looked a lot like this, except swinging my arms to cool down from the jog.” Marissa plucked stringy bangs off her forehead and groaned inwardly. For the first time since she’d arrived at the station, she was fiercely self-conscious. Why hadn’t she at least combed her hair or washed her face while she’d waited on Blake to arrive? It was bad enough she was bruised and dirty. She didn’t have to be a disheveled nightmare, too. “I’m a mess.”
“You’ve gone over ten