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I’m gonna be pretty busy. The psych prof’s working us long hours on her project.”
    Rissa’s pulse nudged upward. She understood the girl’s reluctance to talk to the police again, but dammit, some things were more important than a summer job. She forced calm into her manner. “Don’t you want to help catch Emma’s killer?”
    “Of course I do." Emma’s friend sighed her acquiescence. Her next steps led her nearly to the door.
    “Then I’ll phone Augusta. I’ll be in touch.”
    “Whatever.” Caitlin escaped into the sanctuary of the classic New England college building.
    Rissa walked back to her car. Even in summer the campus teemed with life. The college had no summer school, but high-school students trekked to and from basketball-camp activities or lounged on the green expanses between buildings. Two kids in swimsuits threw a Frisbee.
    Cars crammed the small parking area next to the West Quad dorm where the student employees stayed—new Saabs, Beemers, and a Mercedes. Cars of the elite. Her ancient Toyota didn’t fit in, but Emma had. Her beautiful, brainy, and athletic daughter had fit in anywhere, had thrived in the enriched atmosphere.
    Until a monster took her life.
    Once a month since last October Rissa had tortured herself by driving the seventy miles from Cumberland to Waterville. Someone must have seen something, heard something. If she kept inquiring, surely they’d remember.
    She had to try, to help. To do something. She was the last person—except the killer—who’d seen her daughter alive. The college had been Emma’s destination.
    Finally her persistence paid off. Caitlin and Breanna had seen a stranger in a dark van the week Emma disappeared. Maybe that Sunday night. She shuddered, nearly dropping her keys. It had to be the killer.
    The Hunter.
    Rissa slid into the hot confines of her car and picked up her cell phone. She hoped the detective they sent wasn’t Justin Wylde. Annie’s brother was short on patience. At least with her.
     
    ***
     
    If only Annie could escape Sam’s eagle eye. She wasn’t about to let him know the ache in her back made her feel ninety-five, and forty-pound barbells weighted each arm. She could barely drag her duffel bag up the beach.
    The blasted man strode past her as if the Hummer-sized cooler he carried weighed nothing. He set it beside the table. “Folks, well done for the first day. It’s still early, so let’s set up camp, and we can relax before dinner.”
    Hallelujah, a break . Annie returned to the canoe for her tent. With six separate tents, they’d be in close quarters. Sam was right about her assessment of the campsite, but she wasn’t about to tell him.
    She scoped out a grassy spot with saplings on one side and bushes on the other. The forest stood thick with underbrush, mysterious and shadowed, unlike manicured Deering Oaks Park in Portland. If she parked close to the bushes, any marauding night critters would have only two sides of her tent to assault.
    Each camper had to set up his or her own tent, but earlier they’d divided up the other chores. Along with Ray, Annie had chosen to cook tonight’s meal. At the time, dinner preparation seemed preferable to the other choices, but if the meal required more than boiling water, she was in trouble. Maybe Ray knew his way around a camp stove.
    She dumped her tent bag. She spread the yellow nylon tent out flat and considered how to begin.
    After erecting his tent, Carl set off into the woods to dig the latrine with a folding camp shovel. Ray helped Nora with hers before tackling his. Nora and her son had to gather deadfall for firewood, but so far Frank was sitting on a log engrossed in an electronic game. His tent remained in its bag. When Nora started toward her rebellious son, Sam waved her off. She threw up her hands and headed into the woods.
    Flummoxed by the metal rods and tent pieces, Annie needed help. Dammit. She looked around for help, but even Ray had vanished. Voices from the