“We don’t exactly have a rock…”

She arched a brow. “No rock?”

“No.” He added helpfully, “But we do have a travel brochure for Hawaii.”

York blinked her eyes, obviously trying to follow that thought, then finally gave up. “Well, without an actual rock sample, I’m not sure what to tell you. Yes, there are lots of rocks in the Shenandoah National Park. And yes, some of them are similar to those found in Hawaii. But I don’t know how to break things down for you any more than that. The wilderness area of the Shenandoah National Park encompasses nearly eighty thousand acres, you know. That’s a lot of rock types and areas of geologic interest.”

“Do you have a book or a rock guide we could take with us?” Kimberly asked. “You know, that way once we did have a sample, we could look up more information.”

“It wouldn’t be specific enough. With your naked eye, the best you would be able to determine was if the stone in question were basalt versus granite versus siliciclast. That would only cut your search area in half, leaving you with forty thousand acres. No, to truly analyze a rock, you need to be able to look at its mineral components through a microscope.”

“Do you have a microscope we could borrow?” Kimberly attempted weakly.

“They cost a couple pennies. I think the U.S. government might notice.”

“Darn government.”

“Get the rock,” York said. “Give me a call. I’d be very happy to help.” Her gaze was once more locked on Mac.

“We’ll try,” Mac said diligently, but Kimberly knew he was just being polite. They would never have access to the rock found in the victim’s hand; they were outsiders no longer privy to such helpful little tidbits as real evidence.

“One last question,” Kimberly said. “Are there rattlesnakes in the Shenandoah National Park?”

York appeared surprised. “More than a few. Why do you ask?”

“Just checking. Guess I better put on a thicker pair of boots.”

“Watch out for rocks,” York advised. “Rattlers like to curl up in the nooks and crannies between boulders. Or even sleep out on the sun-warmed surface once it’s dusk.”

“Got it.”

Mac shook the woman’s hand. York gave him a dazzling smile, while managing to once more arch her back. Kimberly engaged in a significantly stiffer handshake, which is apparently what happened when you didn’t have a Southern drawl-or Mac’s muscled chest.

They made their way back to the front door, where the blue sky already stretched bright and hot beyond the glass. “That wasn’t so good,” Mac said, pausing before the entranceway. He seemed to be bracing himself for leaving the cool comfort of air-conditioning behind and bursting once more into the heat.

“We have a start,” Kimberly said firmly. “All signs point to the Shenandoah National Park.”

“Yes, all eighty thousand acres. You’re right, we should find this girl in no time at all.” He shook his head in disgust. “We need choppers. Hell, we need search-and-rescue, the National Guard, and about half a dozen dogs. This poor woman…”

“I know,” Kimberly said quietly.

“It doesn’t seem fair, does it? A kidnap victim deserves all the help in the world. And instead…”

“She’s only going to get us.”

He nodded and the lines of frustration etched into his dark face almost made her reach out her hand. She wondered who that sort of unsolicited contact would shock more-her or him?

“We need supplies,” Mac said. “Then we’d better hit the road. It’s a long drive to Shenandoah, particularly when we don’t know where we’re going yet.”

“We’re going to find her,” Kimberly said.

“We need more information. Damn, why didn’t I just take that rock?”

“Because that would’ve been crossing the line. The leaf had already been mishandled by the ME. The rock, on the other hand…”

“Has been properly bagged and tagged and even now is wasting away in some crime lab,” Mac finished bitterly.

“We’re going to find her,” Kimberly said again.

He finally stilled in front of the glass door. His blue eyes were still dark, fired by frustration. For just a moment, however, the look on his face softened. “Earnest Kimberly,” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“I hope you’re right.” He glanced at his watch. “Ten A.M.,” he said softly, then abruptly pushed through the heavy door. “And boy, is it getting hot.”

Tina woke up slowly, becoming aware of two things at once: a deep, wracking thirst that had left her tongue swollen and cottony in her mouth and the incessant sound of buzzing around her head.

She opened her eyes, but couldn’t see a thing through the thick tangle of blond hair, now glued uncomfortably to her sweat-slicked face. She roughly pushed back the long strands, only to encounter a fuzzy black haze. And then, abruptly, she knew what that buzzing was.

Tina leapt to her feet, already waving her arms frantically while a scream built in her throat. Mosquitoes. She was covered, head to toe, with hundreds of swarming, buzzing, biting mosquitoes.

Malaria, she thought instantly. The West Nile Virus. Hell, the bubonic plague, as far as she was concerned. She had never seen so many bugs, fluttering in her hair, sinking their hungry mouths into her skin. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Her feet landed in mud, her three-inch-high platform sandals immediately sinking into the watery marsh. She had a faint sensation of cool relief as the mud hit her toes, then she made the mistake of looking down and this time she did scream. Right there, slithering by her ankle in the muck, went a long black snake.

Tina scrambled quickly back onto the rock that had apparently been her perch. The mosquitoes swarmed hungrily. And now she could see other hunters as well. Yellow flies, gnats, buzzing creatures of all sorts and sizes. They swarmed her head and shoulders, seeking the unprotected skin of her throat, the corners of her mouth, and the whites of her eyes. Fresh welts rose on her ears, her eyelids, her cheeks. Her legs were covered in red marks, some still oozing fresh blood as more mosquitoes were drawn to the scent. She started clapping her hands. Then she slapped them against her entire body.

“Die, die, die,” she gasped. And they did. She felt plump, overfed bodies explode between her fingers, staining her palms with her own blood as she took out dozens. Then hundreds more insects swooped in to take their place, biting painfully at her tender skin.

She was crying now. She gasped for breath. Then in the middle of her frenzy, the inevitable happened. Her stomach rolled, she got down on her hands and knees, and then she vomited over the edge of the rock into the foul-smelling muck below.

Water. Green bile. Precious little food. Her stomach contracted anyway, her head dropping between her shoulders as she dry-heaved. The mosquitoes used the opportunity to swarm her shoulders, her elbows, her calves. She was being eaten alive, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to save herself.

Minutes passed. The knot eased in her stomach. The cramping nausea released its hold on her bowels. Shakily, she straightened, brushing back her long, sweaty hair, and feeling new welts already raise up on her ears.

The mosquitoes danced in front of her eyes, seeking skin. She batted them away, but her movements were already halfhearted, the actions of a woman who realized she was no match for the enemy. She could kill hundreds of insects. A thousand would simply take their place. Oh God…

Her throat burned. Her skin felt as if it were on fire. She raised her trembling hands to her face and saw that they were also covered in red, angry bites. Then her gaze went all the way up to white-hot sky, where the sun was already starting to blaze overhead. The dog crate was gone. Instead, from all appearances she had been cast into some kind of swampy pit, fodder for insects, snakes, and God knows what.