“Mm,” she murmured, lightly kissing his palm, “and I am noble enough to save you from the bedbugs at the inn, if you’d like to stay at my place.”

“Thought they didn’t have them. Immaculately clean, you said.”

“Maybe I exaggerated. My bed’s nicer, isn’t it?”

“Infinitely.”

Staring into his eyes, she admitted, “I’ve been hoping you’d come back.”

“I’m back.” His voice was husky, the touch of his hand on her lips sizzling and electrifying. He wanted her again. Badly. “I don’t know which I find more arousing, you kissing my hand, or shooting out that target in under twenty seconds.”

Stacey laughed softly, sounding so sweet and feminine, such a fascinating mix of strength and softness. Wondering about that strength, and how she’d held up after he’d had to walk out on her the other night, he asked, “Are you okay? After what happened Saturday?”

She nodded, obviously realizing he was asking about the horror on her doorstep. “I don’t know who did it, but I’m working on it. I helped my dad bury her on Sunday.”

“Stacey, I don’t want to worry you, but we have to at least consider the possibility that the guy we’re looking for is afraid you’re getting a little too close, and wants to scare you off.”

“It occurred to me. And then I unoccurred it.”

He didn’t laugh. This wasn’t funny in the least.

“Honestly, it’s not me he’d be after; it’s you guys. And he’s not exactly the subtle type. If he did want me, I don’t think he’d leave a message.”

No, probably not.

“It’s never been anything this bad before, but it’s not the first time some redneck, beer-swilling asshole has decided to get even with me for writing him a ticket or hauling him in on a DUI. I’d lay money that’s what we’re talking about here.” She opened her mouth, then closed it quickly, as if she had more to say but had thought better of it.

“What?”

Indecision washed across her features. But before she could continue, a car drove by, flying down the country road at an unsafe speed. She jerked away from him and leaned forward toward the windshield, glaring after it. “Damn. Missed the license plate number.”

Soft woman to hard-edged cop in less than ten seconds. What an irresistible combination.

Clearing her throat, she spoke again, as if the subject of the dog, and whatever else she’d been about to tell him, had never come up. “You said you’re having problems with jurisdiction in the case?”

He let her get away with it, knowing Stacey wasn’t the type to hold back if something was really important. She said what needed to be said, when it needed to be said. He had no doubt that if she had something else on her mind, she’d tell him when she was ready. “Yes. Wyatt’s jumping through hoops to keep on top of it. But at least it’s made the BAU sit up and take notice. They’ve stopped stonewalling the agent working on the profile. We should have it in a couple of days.”

“I bet we can make a couple of assumptions about this guy even without it.”

“You know, assume is a very bad word in law enforcement.”

“I know, I know. But come on, there are a few obvious points.”

“Such as?”

“He was probably an abuser of animals.” Incredulous, given what they’d just discussed, he merely stared.

“I still don’t think what happened to Lady is connected to this,” she insisted.

Giving up, he merely replied, “Okay. Animal abuse is actually a strong commonality among serial killers. Know anyone with a history of that kind of thing?” Frowning, he added, “Or two anyones?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. But I’ll ask my dad.”

“Good idea.”

Leaning back in her seat, she thought quietly before continuing to speculate. “He hates women.”

“Could be. Or he could want women and be unable to sexually perform with them, so he kills them instead.” He paused before adding, “Three were violated with unidentified objects.”

She shuddered. But not because of the air-conditioning.

“Okay,” she said, “what about abuse?”

“Again, very possible. But not always.”

“Abandonment?”

“Maybe. But it could come from so many angles-a wife who walked out, a mother who died.”

She barked a quick, humorless laugh.

“What?”

“You just described both Randy and my brother.”

He said nothing, just watching her until she scowled.

“That’s not even funny.”

“They were both at the bar that night.”

“Back off, Agent Taggert.”

“That Covey guy, you said he’s a trucker, right? On the road a lot? He wouldn’t be missed if he’s gone overnight.”

“This is ridiculous.”

Treading carefully, he couldn’t help adding, “And your brother, he seems like a very angry man.”

“Angry, yes. Homicidal, no friggin’ way.” The heat in the car no longer came from the sun outside, but rather from her indignation. “Tim doesn’t even own a computer, for God’s sake. He lives in a crappy one-bedroom apartment in town and wants so much to retreat from the world that he seldom even answers his phone. I practically have to send up smoke signals when I want to see him.”

He’d seen the guy. He understood and pitied the poor bastard. “Look, I’m not accusing either of them of anything,” he insisted. “Just trying to make a point. Most times these profiles can be twisted to suit almost anyone, like that colossal screwup with the Atlanta Olympic bombing suspect. No doubt they can be very helpful. But they’re by no means the only tool we use to catch guys like this.”

She relaxed, at least a little, then grudgingly admitted, “Point taken. No more assumptions.” Sighing audibly, she deliberately turned her head and stared out the window. “It’s just… the waiting is killing me. All the possibilities, all the men who were at the tavern that night. We’ve got to narrow down the list.”

Noting the way she’d looked away, not meeting his eye, he had a sudden suspicion. “You’ve been working on the case.”

A slight nod.

“Damn it, Stacey.”

She shifted in her seat to meet his stare directly. “I haven’t done much. I talked to a couple of people, nobody dangerous. I certainly didn’t go question Warren Lee or anything like that.”

Small comfort. The idea that she might have confronted someone who could turn out to be the Reaper was enough to make him want to get her far away from here. Not that she’d ever run.

“I immediately thought of this latest kidnapping, wondering if Stan really had been working the late shift Friday night.”

His curiosity outweighing his concern, he asked, “And?”

Her frown answered even before she did. “His boss backed him up. Furthermore, the hospital confirmed Winnie’s story. Per their records, Stan brought her and signed her into the ER at two twenty a.m. the night Lisa died. And he was there to drive Winnie home when she was discharged at around six.”

The stepfather would have had to grab Lisa, stash her somewhere, go home and beat his wife, and drive her to the hospital in the next town, all within a thirty-minute period. Impossible. “So he wasn’t responsible for what happened to Lisa,” he said.

Her green eyes darkened. “At least not for her murder.”

The man was guilty of the rest; he didn’t doubt that. He only hoped that someday he was made to pay for it.

“What else have you got?” he asked, no longer worrying about whether she’d done the right thing in investigating on her own. Stacey wasn’t stupid. And what she’d told him already had helped a lot by ruling out a viable suspect.

“I tried to talk to Randy.”

“Why?”

“My brother told me Randy left a little before closing that night. Lisa did, too. I thought it was worth asking if he noticed anything as he was leaving-a truck pulling in, or maybe one he passed on his way back to town.”

“Did he?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t met up with him yet. I stopped by his house, and his mother told me he’s been doing a lot of overnight trips. He drives a big rig. She said she’d have him call me.”