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discuss his surveillance on Yonkers.
    “Yes,” he said. “She got one for her birthday when she was ten. I don’t know what happened to it.”
    “Maybe you can ask her if it has some kind of meaning that I don’t know about,” Josie suggested.
    His breath hissed out. “That’s not possible. My sister is dead.”
    Josie’s throat thickened at his abrupt tone. “I’m so sorry, Dane. I didn’t know.”
    “Drop it,” he said gruffly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    His pain sounded so raw she didn’t want to probe. “Where are you? I’ll meet you.”
    “No. I don’t want you involved in this murder investigation.”
    Again, he slipped back to the professional lone wolf.
    Josie didn’t intend to let him deter her questions about the woman. Her need for answers overpowered the fear that had nearly choked her on the street. “I already am involved, Dane. The killer sent me this picture for a reason.”
    The question was why?
    To taunt her with the fact that she wasn’t safe in Graveyard Falls?

    Dane mumbled an oath under his breath. He wanted to believe that the killer hadn’t sent the picture to Josie, but considering the book she’d written about the Bride Killer, he couldn’t discount the theory. That damn book had hit lists all over the place and made her name recognizable overnight.
    Stars often drew the crazies.
    He wouldn’t jump to conclusions, though. He had to consider other possibilities. Sheriff Kimball, the janitor, the motel manager, or one of the crime scene workers could have sent it to Josie. Maybe someone close to the scene wanted to give her the scoop for a new story.
    Dammit, he hated the media. Swarming reporters stirred up interest from other weirdos. He’d seen it on numerous cases. Freaks wanting to take credit and get their five minutes of fame gave false confessions.
    Reporters exposed family secrets and lies.
    Just as they had with his sister. They’d dogged him and his mother, asking questions, making insinuations about Betsy’s sex life, implying she’d run away. They’d practically driven his mother to a nervous breakdown.
    “Dane, what are you thinking?” Josie asked.
    He willed his mind back to the case. “It’s possible that someone at the crime scene sent you the text. Someone who thought you might want to write about it.”
    “If there is a story, I’d like to follow it. This town, the people in it . . . It’s personal to me.”
    His fingers tightened around the phone. “Why?”
    “You know why. Because the killer has focused on me. Because of what happened with the previous cases.” Impatience tinged Josie’s voice. “Johnny was railroaded into jail for a crime he didn’t commit. Look how many innocent women died because of it. I have to know why this girl was killed, if it had something to do with my book.”
    “I don’t need or want a partner,” Dane said. “I work alone.”
    He had no desire to be used by a crime writer. He especially didn’t want to be responsible for her safety.
    He’d already fucked up with his sister.
    The manager appeared on the sidewalk and walked toward him. “Just go home. I’ll come by your place later. We’ll see if the IT team can trace your phone to see where that text came from.”
    Josie sighed. “Dane, I have to do something to help. I can’t get this woman’s face out of my mind.”
    “I’ll find out what happened to her,” he snapped. “That’s my job.”
    “But I’ve studied criminology, I might have some insight.”
    “You could also get yourself killed,” Dane said through gritted teeth. “Remember what happened before.”
    Josie’s sharp intake of breath punctuated the air. “Of course I remember. Every minute of every day. All the more reason I can’t back down now. I can’t let these crazies win. Besides, being informed might help keep me safe.”
    Dammit, she was right about that last part.
    He also understood her need not to give in to the fear. She’d had no control when