Hemlock Bay

among themselves.
    Agent Possner wasn’t burned. There was no sign that there had ever been a fire in Hamlet’s Pics. Agents Briggs, Lowell, and Possner stared back at him.
    Savich walked out. He sat down on a wooden bench on the sidewalk just outside the photo shop and put his head in his hands.
    For the first time, he thought the FBI needed to assign someone else to catch this monster. He’d failed. Twice now, he’d failed.
    He felt a hand on his shoulder and slowly raised his head to see Teddi Tyler standing over him. “I’m sorry, man. She must really be something to get past you guys.”
    “Yeah,” Savich said, and he felt just a shade better. “She’s something. We’ll get her, Teddi. I just don’t know how as of yet.”
    She was still somewhere in Bar Harbor with Marilyn, she had to be. He got slowly to his feet. He had to get a huge manhunt organized.
    In that instant, he realized that even if they didn’t find her, she had every intention of finding him. She would hunt him down, not the other way around. And the good Lord knew, he was much easier to find.

    Gothenburg, Sweden

    It was cold, so bloody cold Lily didn’t think she could stand it. Strange thing was that she knew she wasn’t really conscious, that she didn’t really know what was happening or where she was, but her body just kept shuddering, convulsing with the cold. The cold was penetrating her bones, and she felt every shake, every shudder.
    Then, suddenly, she felt Simon near her, no doubt it was him because she knew his scent. She already knew his damned scent, a good scent, as sexy as his hair curling at his neck. His arms were suddenly around her, and he hugged her hard against him, pulling her so close she was breathing against his neck, feeling his heart beat steady and strong against hers.
    He was breathing deeply, and cursing. Really bad words that Savich had never said even when he was pissed off, which had been quite often when they were growing up. What a long time ago. Sometimes, like now, she thought as she shivered, being an adult really sucked. She pressed closer, feeling his warmth all the way to her belly. The convulsive jerks lessened, her brain began to function again.
    She said against his collarbone, “Where are we, Simon? Why is it so cold? Did they leave us beside a fjord?”
    His hands were going up and down her back, big hands that covered a lot of territory, and he rolled her under him so he could cover more of her.
    “I guess we’re in Sweden. It’s sure too cold in this room for us to be in the Mediterranean near Ian’s yacht. I just woke up a while ago. They drugged us. Do you remember?”
    “Yes, Nikki forced something down my throat. I guess you were already under. How much time has passed?”
    “A couple of hours. We’re in a bedroom, and there isn’t even a heater working. The door is locked, and the bed is stripped, so we have no blankets or sheets. I didn’t realize you were so cold until just a minute ago. Are you warming up now?”
    “Oh yes,” she said, against his neck, “definitely better.”
    He was silent for a long time, listening to her breathe, feeling her relax as she grew warmer. He cleared his throat and said, “Lily, I know this is an awfully unusual place and perhaps even a somewhat strange time to mention this, but I have to be honest here. You didn’t do well picking your first two husbands. I’m thinking that you need a sort of consultant who could help you develop a whole new set of criteria before you try a third husband.”
    She raised her head, saw his bristly chin in the dim light, and said only, “Maybe, but I’m still married to the second one.”
    “Not for much longer. Tennyson is soon to be only another very bad chapter in your history. Then he’ll be a memory, and you’ll be ready to begin work with your consultant.”
    “He’s scary, Simon. He married me to get to my paintings. He fed me depressants. He probably tried to kill me by cutting the brake lines in the Explorer. He’s a very bad chapter, maybe the biggest, baddest yet, and my history isn’t all that long. It’s not particularly good for the soul to have both Jack Crane and Tennyson Frasier in your life.”
    “You’ll divorce Tennyson just like you did Jack Crane. Then we’ll figure out these new criteria together.”
    “You want to be my marriage consultant?”
    “Well, why not?”
    “I don’t even know your educational background or your experience in this area.”
    “We