“Do you think he intended to kill you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. He didn’t hurt Carine, but he didn’t have his knife with him, either.”

“Thanks to you. Carine – she was fully prepared to defend herself and her baby with a rock.”

“That’s Carine. The Winters are all like that.” Mackenzie couldn’t summon the energy even to smile. “If anything had happened to her, because of me…”

“Nothing did,” Rook said.

“You don’t recognize his description?” she asked.

“No.”

Then maybe her attacker wasn’t someone involved in whatever investigation had brought Rook to New Hampshire after all. Or Rook hadn’t identified him yet as anyone of interest. Or Rook was lying, but somehow she didn’t think he would be a good liar. “I know I’ve seen him before, but I can’t pin down where, who he is. Maybe I just saw him in line at the grocery.”

“He recognized you.”

“I haven’t been in Washington that long. More likely he knows me from here.”

“He referred to you as Deputy Stewart.”

“My career change has been a topic of conversation around town for several months. ‘The college instructor who heads off to train as a deputy marshal.’”

Rook slipped an arm over her shoulder. “You did well today, Mac.”

“I got in one good lick. Big deal.”

“You also got his knife away from him.”

“My training kicked in. If he’d attacked Carine, or if Bernadette had been up here and he’d attacked her…” But Mackenzie knew better than to spin off into what-ifs, and didn’t go further. “Next time I go swimming, I’m wearing jeans and sneakers.”

“Not as much fun as your little pink swimsuit.”

“Rook, just because I’ve got twenty stitches in my side doesn’t mean I can’t elbow you in your gut.” But she appreciated his humor and felt herself leaning against him as they headed to a trio of Adirondack chairs and Bernadette’s open fireplace. Even if he’d dumped her and was a snake, at least he could be a friend. “The police have my swimsuit and towel. They’re checking for trace evidence. Can you imagine if I have to testify in court, and they hold up my dolphin towel and slashed tankini? I’ll never live it down.”

“You never will, anyway.”

“You’re a big help.”

He grinned at her. “Welcome to law enforcement. No one will criticize you for what you did today, Mac. If I’d been caught by a knife-wielding lunatic out here in my swim trunks -”

“Ouch, Rook. I don’t need that image in my head.”

“No? What kind of swim trunks do you have me in?”

“Baggy, snot-green plaid ones that hang down to your knees.”

“Lovely.”

Except it wasn’t true. The swim trunks Mackenzie pictured him in fit him perfectly, and nothing about them – or him – was ugly. But she didn’t dwell on the image. “I’m lucky. He didn’t cut through muscle or nick any vital organs. I’ll be fine in no time. I’m a fast healer.”

“What about the next twenty-four hours?”

“I have to keep the dressing dry and I can’t do jumping jacks. Why?”

Just then Gus’s truck pulled into the driveway, sparing Rook from having to answer.

Carine jumped out of the passenger side and waved cheerfully. “We’re here for marshmallows.”

But there was something off in her voice, and Mackenzie slipped from Rook’s embrace and narrowed her gaze on him. “What’s going on?”

“I was getting to that,” Rook said. “Gus Winter and his team found their missing hiker. Your instincts were on target. Your attacker got to her first. She’d been stabbed.”

“Dead?”

Rook shook his head. “Doctors say she’ll make a full recovery. She’s lucky they found her when they did. A night out in the open wouldn’t have been good.”

Mackenzie visualized the assault knife, but forced back the image. “Her attacker fits the description of the guy who came at me?”

Rook nodded. “She said he seemed deranged.”

“A deranged hiker slashing women in the mountains.” Mackenzie bit off a sigh of frustration, her earlier dizziness gone now. “I should never have let him get away.”

“Which brings us to the next twenty-four hours.”

“What?”

“Carine and her baby are staying at her uncle’s house in town tonight. She needs time to pull herself together. You’re welcome there -”

“I’m not staying at Gus’s.”

Rook gave her a faint smile. “That’s what he said you’d say.”

“I’m staying here. Honestly, Rook. First I get knifed. Then I let the guy who knifed me get away and scare the living daylights out of my best friend. Then I have to face a million cops while I’m wearing a pink swimsuit, which is confiscated as evidence along with my dolphin towel.” She wanted to stop herself, but was on a roll now. “So don’t try to talk me out of staying here, because it won’t work.”

“You’re drugged. Once you hit a pillow, you’ll be out for the night.”

“I hope so.”

“What if this guy comes back? I’m not trying to talk you out of staying here. You have a choice.”

“What -” She snapped her mouth shut and studied Rook, noted the spark of humor in his eyes. He had killer eyes, a killer smile. “Why do I feel as if I just painted myself into a corner?”

“Because you did.”

“You’re staying here tonight?”

He smiled at her. “That’s the plan.”

All Mackenzie could think was that with Rook under the same roof, it was just as well she had twenty stitches in her side.

Ten

Gus Winter stabbed a fat marshmallow with one of the half-dozen or so sharp sticks Bernadette kept at her outdoor stone fireplace, and handed it to Mackenzie, then sank into an old, comfortable Adirondack chair. Gus had built the fire, as if the simple ritual was what he needed to put the events of the day into perspective.

Mackenzie sat forward and held her marshmallow over the flames, careful not to let it get too close. She liked a gooey center and a crisp exterior, which required a certain level of patience and marshmallow know-how.

“Beanie’s helped a lot of people over the years,” Mackenzie said. “I wasn’t the only one.”

“Not by a long shot. And you’re a neighbor. She’s helped perfect strangers.” Gus reached for another stick. “Are you suggesting this nut today was someone she helped?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just casting a wide net.”

“Are you supposed to be casting any net? You’re one of the victims.”

As if she needed reminding, with her bandages, her wooziness from medication. The cool air and the familiarity of the fire, the marshmallows, the sounds of the dark night, all helped center her. She could feel her fatigue, even as her mind spun with the images of the day, the scraps of information she had, the possibilities they presented.

“I don’t mean officially. It’s not my investigation, but that doesn’t mean I can’t speculate. Everyone in town is speculating.”

“Point taken,” Gus said.

She glanced at him as he picked up a second stick for himself. “Overkill?”

“Always with you, kiddo.”

She smiled. “I thought I might irritate you less now that I’ve been knifed.”

He took two marshmallows and impaled them on his stick. “Nah.” He grinned at her. “You’re the same Mackenzie I’ve always known and loved. At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“Hey, someone around here has to have a sense of humor.” This reminded her of Rook, who was either in the house or else off with other FBI agents – she didn’t know which. He wasn’t by the fire toasting marshmallows. “The attack on the hiker this morning suggests this man wasn’t here specifically because of Beanie. The lock on the shed wasn’t broken. She probably just didn’t bother with it.”

“So he seized the moment and ducked in there to hide, or planned to?” Gus asked.

“Maybe. Carine left the house unlocked when she and Harry headed up the road. If this guy was looking for a place to rest, or stuff to steal, you’d think he’d go into the house.”