He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

options. There weren’t many. He drew the line down several side roads, but none of them felt right. Taking the straightest route, he traced the line further south to the nearest town. His pulse started pounding in his ears when he saw the name of the town.
    Pierce’s face paled. “Are you kidding me?”
    Logan grabbed the map and ran to the driver’s side of the car while Pierce ran to the other side. Pierce barely had his door shut before Logan stomped the gas, fishtailing out of the rest stop onto the highway amidst a hail of honking horns, as cars swerved to avoid him.
    Pierce grabbed his phone and called the station. “Nelson, it’s Pierce,” he yelled. “Send backup. We know where Amanda Stockton’s being held. Summerville.”
    A hot breeze blew through the pines, swishing the needles against each other as if the trees were whispering secrets. In spite of the heat, Amanda felt chilled as she rubbed her arms where her t-shirt left them bare. She stood in the clearing outside the cabin, not exactly sure where she was. All she saw were trees, Riley’s car, and the cabin. Riley had sent her outside while he checked on Tom Bennett, who was lying on the floor after she’d hit him with the chain.
    What was taking Riley so long? Her breath left her in a relieved rush when he finally stepped out of the cabin and strode toward her. That relief was short-lived when she saw the expression on his face.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked. A sinking feeling went through her stomach. “Did he get away?”
    He raked his hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, Amanda. He won’t hurt you again. He won’t hurt anyone else ever again.” He pressed his hand on the small of her back and urged her toward his car. “Let’s get out of here.”
    “What do you mean . . . he won’t hurt anyone else?”
    He grimaced. “How hard did you hit him with that chain?”
    She stumbled to a stop. “Are you saying he’s . . . that I . . . killed him?”
    “It was self-defense. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” He leaned down and opened the car door for her. “Come on.”
    She slipped inside the car, her brow wrinkling in confusion. She’d knocked him down, yes, but his eyes were still open. He’d looked stunned, but he was breathing, conscious—wasn’t he?
    Riley stood in the open passenger doorway.
    “I don’t understand any of this,” Amanda said. “Who was he? How did you find me?”
    “His name is Tom Bennett. He works at the police garage. I had a hunch, tracked him down to this place and was lucky enough to find you. How badly are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
    “What? No, I’m okay. My hands are cut up, from the chain.” She shuddered at the memory. Tom Bennett, charging toward her, shoving her. She tried to envision him with a hood, holding a rose above her, but the picture wouldn’t gel in her mind. She tried to imagine him holding the knife in his left hand like she remembered, but he’d held the handcuff key in his right hand, hadn’t he? And he didn’t seem tall enough to be the hooded stranger.
    She stared at her bloody hands, working through the questions in her mind. “I just can’t picture him as the man who attacked Dana and me.”
    Riley gave her an odd look before closing the car door. As he walked around the front of the car, Amanda stilled, watching him. She tried again to picture Bennett with a hood covering his head, but suddenly that image turned into Riley. She looked at his hands, pictured him holding a rose, a knife. A horrible thought, an impossible thought, went through her mind. Hadn’t she circled his name on the suspect list she’d created? Yes, but only because he matched the basic description. She’d never seriously considered him as a suspect, had she? She inched her right hand behind her to find the door handle even as she told herself she was crazy.
    Riley slid inside next to her and started the engine, flipped the air on.
    Music moaned out of the speakers from a CD, low, mournful notes, the same notes that Logan had played on his stereo early this morning.
    The same music her attacker had hummed.
    Riley’s eyes widened. He punched the power button, turning off the CD. His gaze shot to hers, and she knew she was staring into the eyes of the man who’d attacked her all those years ago.
    For a moment they both froze, staring at each other. The knowledge of who he was, what he had done, and—oh, God—what he would do, hung between them.
    He lunged as