He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

glanced quizzically back and forth between her and Richards.
    Amanda wiped the backs of her hands across her eyes. She hadn’t cried once since moving back to Shadow Falls, and here she was crying for the second day in a row. She whirled around to face Richards. “I would appreciate it if you would both leave. Now.”
    He looked like he wanted to argue, but he gave her a curt nod. “Come on, Riley.”
    Amanda followed the two men into the foyer.
    Riley stepped outside but Richards paused in the doorway, so close they were almost touching. Impossibly, everything inside her ached for his touch, as if he could wrap his strong arms around her and erase her past.
    As if he could save her.
    “Amanda.” His masculine voice whispered across her raw nerves, reminding her of everything she could never have. “If you don’t fight now, you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. You need police protection and we need your help. Come to the station. Talk to me about what happened. Help me find out who this man is. Help me stop him before he hurts someone else.”
    Resentment came to her rescue, drying her tears, giving her the strength she needed. This man had un-bottled her long pent-up emotions . . . emotions she wasn’t prepared to deal with. And here he stood, in her sanctuary, demanding she go to the police station as if she were the criminal.
    “I already spoke to the police about my abduction. They interviewed me so many times I lost count. Do you honestly think I would leave out one single detail that might help someone catch the man who butchered Dana?”
    His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you mean the man who hurt you , too? You were as much a victim as she was.”
    She shook her head vigorously, her throat tightening. “Get out.”
    A look of pity crossed Richards’ face as he stepped outside. Anger flashed inside Amanda and she slammed the door shut behind him. She leaned her forehead against the cool wood, dragging deep breaths into her tortured lungs. She didn’t want Logan Richard’s pity and she sure as hell didn’t deserve his concern. Because, in spite of his belief that she was as much a victim as Dana was, he was wrong.
    He didn’t know what she’d done.

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
    T he taller and brawnier of the five FBI agents scanned the faces of the Shadow Falls detectives sitting around the conference room table. Logan had the impression the man was cataloging each person’s features and comparing them to a mental list of the FBI’s most wanted. His hawklike gaze zeroed in on Logan. “Chief Richards?”
    Logan nodded and stood. He’d worked with Feds before, but he was also used to working on their timetable. Since calling them this morning, he’d expected they would arrive several days, maybe even a week later, depending on their workload and whether they agreed with his opinion that he might be dealing with a serial killer. Having his secretary usher the Feds into Monday afternoon’s detective meeting was a pleasant surprise. They certainly hadn’t wasted much time driving in from the Jacksonville field office four hours away.
    He shook the other man’s hand. “Call me Logan. Thanks for getting here so quickly.” He introduced Riley and the other detectives sitting around the room.
    “I’m Special Agent Pierce Buchanan. We spoke on the phone.” He introduced each of the men who’d accompanied him.
    “Welcome to the Panhandle,” Logan said, motioning to some empty chairs as he sat down. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”
    “Trust me, I’d rather be here than anywhere else right now. This could be the break I’ve been looking for.”
    One of the FBI agents whispered something to Pierce. He nodded and looked at Logan. “Mind if we set up some photos and diagrams around the room?”
    “Not at all.”
    Two of the special agents set briefcases on the table, and started piling the contents onto the conference room table and sorting it into stacks. Two other men began taping photographs onto the white board that ran along the back wall.
    Pierce folded his arms across his chest as he stood beside Logan’s chair. “I’m convinced your killer is the same killer I’ve been chasing for the past couple of years.”
    “And the Branson case we discussed on the phone?”
    “From the photographs and case notes you emailed me, the signature fits. If so, this guy has operated longer than we thought. I’m surprised we didn’t hear about the