“Oh. Thanks.”

Olivia gathered her wits about her. She’d almost blown it, and she’d only been working with Detective Travis for a few hours. She’d almost told him she’d processed trace evidence for the Green River investigation. If she wanted to stay on this case, she had to be more careful.

She stared out at the water, hugging herself. She wished she hadn’t said no to Zack’s offer of his jacket, but it wouldn’t have been wise to accept. She would have felt even smaller than she was. Detective Travis had an imposing frame-he was a good foot taller than her, and wide. Not fat by any means, just big. Like a lumberjack, all chest and hard muscles. And the way he looked at her, as if he could see under her clothes as well as under her skin, disturbed her to no end. No one had ever studied her so closely. So obviously. As if he were trying to figure out exactly what she was thinking, what she’d done in the past, what she was likely to do in the future. Assessing her.

His scrutiny unnerved her.

All she wanted was to stop the killer she had inadvertently let go free when she fingered Brian Harrison Hall for Missy’s murder. She wasn’t so naïve as to believe she was solely responsible for Hall’s conviction-there was enough circumstantial evidence to warrant it-but she’d read the reports and knew her identification was part of the decision. And because of that, a brutal murderer was roaming the country freely.

He crossed state lines at will, under the radar of the authorities. Four men had been suspected in some of the investigations, and three had been convicted. The last one was released for lack of evidence, but after looking at each case, Olivia knew they were all innocent. It was him, Missy’s killer, playing the system. Missy’s killer was smart. He knew what he was doing. Planned it. Reveled in it. He wouldn’t stop until he was in prison. Or dead.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

She jumped, almost forgetting where she was. Seattle. On a ferry. With a probing detective who wouldn’t stop looking at her. She didn’t know whether to be irritated, flattered, or worried.

She cleared her throat and rubbed her arms, trying to be discreet. She didn’t want Detective Travis to know how chilled she really was.

“I was thinking about something that’s been bothering me since I started piecing these cases together,” Olivia admitted. “I mean, you know as well as I do that most serial killers don’t want to be caught. They live for the hunt, they enjoy the kill, and they will do anything to avoid capture. But I was thinking about the BTK Killer, in Kansas. He slipped up and was caught. His crimes were spread over years, but he still only killed ten people. When you mentioned the Green River Killer, I was thinking about how he confessed to forty-eight killings, most of them committed nearly twenty years before he was caught.”

“Most of the cops on the case think he killed far more,” Zack said.

“So do I,” she said. “But the thing is, he messed up. It was his semen that led to his capture-decades-old DNA. We have this killer’s DNA-but it’s not matching anything. He was never arrested for a sexual crime. He hasn’t slipped up. He hasn’t made one of those mistakes that could set us on the path to capture him. For thirty-four years, he’s killed with impunity, hiding the pattern, keeping a low profile so that he can keep on killing these children.”

Olivia blinked. She hadn’t intended to say so much, and she took a deep breath. Zack was looking at her oddly. Had she blown it? She normally didn’t become so impassioned about, well, anything. But being here, so close to Missy’s killer, was doing something to her. She wasn’t thinking straight, letting both the circumstances and Zack’s intense perusal get under her skin. But having to keep her lies in order was far more difficult than she’d imagined.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I don’t understand.”

“Olivia.” His voice was low, deep, commanding. “Why you? Why are you here unofficially and not someone else?”

She swallowed and prayed he couldn’t see her raw nerves. These past weeks had been a living hell and it had become more difficult to keep her emotions in check. What could she safely tell him? She was an awful liar. She could skirt the truth-Chief Pierson hadn’t asked tough questions, because Greg had paved the way with a phone call the day before-but lying was next to impossible.

She’d probably still be married to Greg if she’d been able to lie about her feelings.

“I was involved with a case years ago where this killer got away,” Olivia said, carefully choosing her words. “An innocent man went to prison. I want to catch this guy. The real killer. End his reign of terror.”

Zack stared at her. She stared back, determined not to break eye contact. Keep her chin up. Never back down. Never show weakness.

“Guilt.”

She blinked. How could he get so close to her real feelings when she kept them so deeply buried? His inspection of her motives unnerved her. “Well, not so much-”

“Don’t try to get out of it, Olivia. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. Guilt can be a powerful motivator. It also has the power to destroy you. You sent an innocent guy to prison; now you want justice because of your guilt.”

So close. Too close. She didn’t know what to say.

“You’re freezing,” he said.

Once again, Zack threw Olivia off balance. He’d brought too many feelings to the surface, then dropped the subject so swiftly that she floundered.

She began to protest, but he stared into her eyes and simply shook his head, a half-smile on his lips.

Without asking, he draped his worn leather jacket over her shoulders. It was far too big, falling over her hips and hanging past her fingertips. She felt like he’d wrapped her in a bear hug, his residual warmth caressing her. His scent of raw soap and leather permeated her senses. Warm. Intimate. Too intimate.

She tore herself away from his eyes. She bit her lower lip and looked out at the water. The island was much larger than it appeared from West Seattle. She focused on it and not on Zack, but she still pictured his dark, intelligent, probing eyes.

“Why’d you join the FBI?” Zack asked after several moments of silence.

She glanced at him. Mistake. He stared at her intently. If she lied, he’d most certainly know.

“I knew someone who was killed,” she said, looking away. “When an FBI recruiter visited my college campus, I felt compelled to apply after graduation.” There. The truth, of sorts.

“Who was killed?”

Why had she said anything? She was inviting questions she didn’t want to answer. “My sister,” she said quietly, looking at her hands clutching the railing, the sleeves of Zack’s jacket covering her fingers. Just thinking of Missy made her stomach clench.

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere. “I had a sister, too.”

She turned to him, surprised. “What happened?”

He paused. “She got involved with the wrong people. Ended up getting herself killed.”

“That’s awful. Was she young?”

“Twenty-two. In college.”

His voice was both bitter and hurt. Olivia couldn’t help but wonder what more there was to the story. But she wasn’t going to ask. He might start up with questions of his own, harder questions she couldn’t avoid.

“The young think they’re invincible,” she said after a moment. “Indestructible. Nothing can hurt them.” She’d believed that for the first five years of her life. And from her experience since, most kids grew into adults before realizing they weren’t superhuman.

Too often, they looked death in the face before coming to that conclusion. The unlucky ones didn’t get a second chance at life.

They were approaching the island. At first, it hadn’t looked like anything was there, just a dim sort of glow on the horizon. But as they came closer, the glow had turned to distinctive lights, and the island took shape against the dark sky.