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here. Where’s their driver? No car keys on any of them, and no helicopter pilot would drop them in this storm.” She wiped the icy rain off her face with her sleeve and shivered as moisture worked its way past her collar.
    “They hiked. Came through the woods, the way you arrived here.” MacLain indicated the floodlights in the distance.
    “So Alice’s killer never took the hike. He called for backup and left these men to clean house. That means he trusted them to get the job done.” Motivated. That word kept hammering her with its ominous implications. This problem wasn’t going away on its own. Standing in a field of dead men was proof of that. She instinctively stepped back, attempting to distance herself from this horrible reality, and tripped on a root. MacLain caught her. She clutched his jacket, quick to regain her footing, but MacLain didn’t release her. He tilted her chin up, studying her face in the moonlight.
    “I’ve never seen eyes so dark,” he said.
    He surprised her, making her blush. For months, she’d been stalking him for the company, studying his every move, his every expression. She knew he had a dimple on his right cheek but not his left. She knew he liked Heinz instead of Hunt’s ketchup. He had a library card but hadn’t used it since Alice’s death. If he had friends, he was avoiding them. He was alone and lonely. She’d watched him, and now he was watching her back. It was surreal, and exciting. This morning, she would have claimed to know everything there was to know about Dane MacLain. Now she was beginning to think she’d only scratched the surface.
    As the silence stretched, her nervousness grew. She licked her lips, and MacLain’s eyes followed the movement. He swallowed, frowning. Not happy.
    “What?” she said.
    “Nothing.” Dane released her chin and stepped away, indicating the pile of gear and weapons at their feet. “Might as well bring them, too. Let’s go.”
    Go? “What about the bodies?”
    He shook his head. “It’s a crime scene. We don’t touch anything.”
    Right. He would see it that way. “You killed them.” She certainly didn’t have the skill to plant a bullet between their eyes. These were his kills.
    “Self-defense.”
    “And you can prove that?”
    MacLain indicated she was being difficult with a throwaway glance. “You’re my witness. Forensics and my reputation will support the rest.”
    “You’re assuming what we leave is what the cops will find. There’s no one here to secure the crime scene. Anyone could show up and make it look however they want it to look.”
    He was crouched, surveilling the field, his tone low. “You want to stick around?”
    “No, but the driver might. Or Alice’s killer could be in the woods, hanging back, awaiting orders. We need to get out in front of this. Control the situation,” she said. “You’re going to want a life after Whitman Enterprises is dead.”
    “We’re not getting rid of the bodies.” He shook his head. “No.” And that was final. He was such a cop. “It’s against the law.” He helped her gather up the guns and gear and then, still crouched, ran tree to tree, navigating through the woods past the trip wires.
    When he walked past the cabin, she groaned, knowing she didn’t have the energy to walk off the mountain but also knowing she didn’t have a choice. Afraid to lose sight of him, she hurried with little enthusiasm. The narrow maintenance road that quickly came within view was a surprise. So was MacLain tugging a camouflage tarp off a pickup truck. Wheels. She sighed with a relief that made her knees go weak. She could have kissed him. Would have, if she had the guts. Which she didn’t.
    “Get in and sit down before you fall down. You’re exhausted.” MacLain climbed behind the wheel.
    She didn’t have to be asked twice. MacLain was putting the truck into gear as she buckled up. The weapons and ammunition were at her feet.
    “Why didn’t you say you had a