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  He didn’t care about the arm. He didn’t care about his lost hearing. He would gladly give more, give anything, if it brought back Ryan, his spotter, his best friend.

  Since Ryan and the others had died, screaming in pain, Cole hadn’t been the same.

  So no, he could not have the peace Annie Murray was offering.

  She could barely keep her eyes open. She must have realized she was falling asleep, because she shook it off and came to her feet.

  “I can drive back to Shit Hill,” Cole offered as they walked out to her car.

  She glanced at his bad arm.

  He saved her the trouble of having to ask. “I’m getting pretty good at driving with my left. We’re not on a racecourse. Small town, past midnight. The roads are empty.”

  She nodded, handed him the keys, got in on the passenger side, and promptly fell asleep.

  Who slept like that? At the drop of a hat?

  Probably people with a clear conscience.

  Although, he too had been like that while in the service. Soldiers slept when the opportunity presented itself. Once upon a time, he’d been able to nod off without a problem.

  He drove her through town, stealing glances at her. She didn’t wake until he parked the car. She looked even softer and warmer, all sleep-mussed. She blinked at him and then looked around, processing that they were at Hope Hill. “Thanks.”

  He opened his mouth to say No big deal, but from the corner of his eye he caught a dark shadow moving between buildings. He turned to catch more, but the shadow disappeared.

  “What is it?” Annie yawned.

  “Someone’s out there.”

  She blinked out the window. “Maybe deer. It’s pretty late. They come out of the woods at night.”

  “Could be.” But Cole didn’t think so. He knew a man’s shape when he saw it. “You don’t think it could be your ex?”

  After a second of consideration, she shook her head. “Joey works the night shift at the gas station on Tuesdays. Even if he was here earlier, he’d be at work by now.”

  Just another patient, then. Maybe even Trevor. Maybe the kid couldn’t sleep.

  Cole could certainly relate.

  He got out and tossed the keys to Annie, and then they headed to their rooms. They were in the same building: Annie on the first floor, Cole on the second.

  He made sure she got to her door safely before he went up the stairs. But he didn’t go to bed.

  At three o’clock, he eased out into the dark hallway. Everyone knew he was an insomniac. If he got caught, he had a ready-made cover.

  He headed toward the main office.

  When he’d told Annie his mother had been concerned about how he was handling his injuries, he hadn’t been lying. But his mother’s concern wasn’t the reason that Cole was at Shit Hill. He’d come because his former commanding officer had asked him to do some undercover work.

  Two weeks ago, a brief, coded message had been texted from the rehab center to a known enemy agent in Yemen. According to his CO, a dozen more messages had been sent since, one nearly every day. Each contained military information at various levels of confidentiality—mostly troop movements and troop locations. Cole’s job was to find out who was sending the messages. He was tasked with quietly catching the end of a loose thread so that intelligence services could unravel the organization the traitor was feeding.

  Thirty-six vets were currently being treated at the facility—all men. A coincidence, the others had told him. Sometimes they had female vets here too.

  The staff numbered nineteen.

  Step one was to narrow down the field of suspects. Cole had been working on that for the past two days.

  The patients—some of them still active-duty—were the ones with military information, and Cole suspected the traitor had to be one of them. His CO was running detailed background checks, working the case from that end.

  So far Cole had crossed off Trevor and Alejandro, then Dale, a grumbling marine. Trevor was too emotionally brittle to pull off being a spy. Alejandro and Dale had never been stationed in some of the regions the clandestine messages had mentioned.

  Cole had talked to as many guys as he could. He’d had plenty of opportunity: in the cafeteria, in group therapy, in the gym. But he wasn’t going to overlook the staff either.

  From the staff list, he’d crossed off Annie Murray. That left him with fifty-one more names on the combined list. He needed to cross off fifty names to find the traitor.

  He stopped in front of the main door that led to the admin offices.

  The hallway stood deserted. Next to the door, a little red light blinked on the magnetic card reader. Only staff could enter.

  Cole reached into his pocket and pulled out the card he’d lifted from Annie’s bag while she slept on their way back from her house.

  For the breadth of a second, he thought about the trust she’d put in him: letting him go home with her, then sleeping next to him as he drove her back.

  If she found out that he was using her like this, their budding friendship would end in a hurry. Cole ignored a twinge of regret. He wasn’t at Hope Hill to make friends.

  The man sat in his car two houses down from Annie’s house. She’d brought a patient home with her. Cole Makani Hunter.

  The man in the car slammed his fist in the steering wheel.

  He didn’t follow them when they left, after they’d spent a full hour in that damned garage. Alone. Together.

  He knew where they were going. Hope Hill.

  He needed time to calm the rage that flowed in his veins. He pictured Annie Murray, on her knees in front of him, offering a tearful apology. He pictured himself slapping her. Hard enough to make that smart little brain of hers rattle.

  That would shock her, wouldn’t it? She thought he was all kind and soft and mild—as if he were half a man. He was a good guy, but that didn’t mean he was a wimp. One of these days, he was going to introduce her to the real him.

  He found the thought arousing. He finally turned the key in the ignition and pulled into the street. He took the scenic route by the reservoir, the road deserted this time of night.

  He saw one car, a white pickup, coming from the opposite direction.

  Then the flash of a fox trotting out onto the road.

  The pickup braked, but the back tire hit the fox with a glancing blow.

  As the pickup moved on, the fox flopped on the road, stunned but alive—a large, beautiful beast.

  The man angled his steering wheel and crossed into the opposite lane. Thump.

  He stopped the car and looked into the rearview mirror.

  One leg was still twitching.

  The man put the car in reverse and backed over the stupid animal for good measure.

  Then he pulled over and got out to inspect his kill.

  Perfect.

  Chapter Seven

  Wednesday

  ANNIE WOKE DISORIENTED, in a strange bed. A confused moment passed before the events of the previous day came back to her in a staggering rush. She groaned into her pillow. Oh God, the house.

  Her house was missing a wall.

  The temptation to stay in bed and in complete denial was overwhelming. Except, the contractor was coming this morning. With another groan, Annie threw off the covers.

  She grabbed her phone from the nightstand to check the weather. Local weather—clear all day. Rupert, however, had been upgraded to a category 2 hurricane, heading north to Cuba.

  Annie said a prayer for the people affected by Rupert, then pushed herself out of bed and opened the window that faced the courtyard and the weeping willow. She did a few stretches and breathing exercises. She kept her eyes on the tree, determined to put herself into a positive frame of mind to start her day.

  “The hurricane is turning away. There is no structural damage to the house. It’s going to be an easy fix. I’m going to have a great day.”

  Some days her morning affirmations were more elaborate, but this was all she had
in her today. She cleaned up, dressed, then hurried down the hallway.

  Her stomach growled. Too bad she’d overslept. She had an appointment with Dr. Ambrose, the psychiatrist on staff, at eight.

  Could she cancel?

  Normally, she would have fed her animals by now and let the llamas and the donkey out to graze. She had a ton of stuff to do today.

  Or was that just an excuse to cancel because she didn’t want to see Dan? She had conflicted feelings that she wanted to unconflict first.

  All the therapists and counselors were in therapy themselves. They took on various emotional burdens from patients that needed to be dealt with. Trouble happened when problems were allowed to pile up and be internalized.

  Annie had gone to some dark places with her patients. She had to cleanse herself on a regular basis to wash away that darkness, to be ready for the next session and the next. So, fine, Dan wasn’t optional.

  “Here she comes.” Dan Ambrose had his door open and waved her in.

  The staff psychiatrist was forty-two and kept in shape, although he didn’t have that warrior body most of the patients at Hope Hill did. He didn’t look military; he looked like an academic. Which he was. He gave classes at West Chester University now and then, a class or two every couple of semesters—Psych 101 and Abnormal Psychology. When he’d had the flu this past summer, Annie had helped him grade papers. He was handsome in a soft, good-looking professor kind of way, with dark-blond hair, brown eyes, and a pleasant face.

  He reached for the bulky, knitted sweater on the back of his chair and pulled it on. “I sit too much,” he said on a sigh. “My circulation isn’t what it used to be. I’m always cold lately. Shouldn’t I be too young for this?” He gave a self-depreciating chuckle.

  Annie closed the door behind her and slid into the large leather armchair that faced the desk. The chair had been bought with well-built soldiers in mind. She felt like Alice in Wonderland after taking the pill that made her shrink.

  “I hear you had a rough day yesterday,” Dan said.

  “Not as rough as it could have been. I got a room here.”

  “Good.” Dan flashed a warm smile.

  They’d gone out together a few times. Actually, she’d thought they were consulting over dinner. Right up until Dan had tried to kiss her. Could have knocked her over with a feather. She’d extricated herself, but things had been awkward for a week or so after that. She had no idea what he’d been thinking. Dating a coworker was as big a taboo as dating a patient. Technically, she was his patient. They had sessions.

  Maybe Dan liked her because they had psychology in common, and other things too. She’d been raised by a single mother; he’d been raised by a single father. They often talked about that. But their similar pasts and interests wouldn’t be enough basis for a romantic relationship, even under different circumstances. She’d never felt any attraction toward him.

  “So how is the house?” he asked.

  “I’ll let you know after I talk with the contractor.”

  “If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dan held her gaze for a moment to make sure that she really was all right, and then he glanced at his notebook. “You started with a new patient this week. How is that going?”

  How long do you have?

  Annie didn’t want to talk to Dan about Cole, but she had to. She felt an unexpected attraction to him that wasn’t entirely patient-appropriate. Normally, when she looked at a patient, she didn’t allow attraction as an option. But when she’d first met Cole, she hadn’t known that she would soon be working with him.

  She settled back in her chair and gave the abridged version of their initial meeting, then talked about Cole going with her to the midnight feeding.

  With any other patient, she wouldn’t have done it. But Cole did have that possible tendency to self-harm, which still worried her. And he had a marked resistance to therapy. Spending extra time with him could work. Being away from the facility might help him let his guard down. If she could build credibility with him, that would increase the chances for a successful treatment outcome exponentially.

  Dan kept his voice carefully neutral when he asked, “Do you think it’s smart to see him outside of therapy?”

  “I think he needs normalcy. They all do. And I think being around animals is therapeutic.”

  “We have the cats for that.”

  She bit back a smile. “The skunks did alarm him.”

  He watched her as he steepled his hands. “Are you getting attached to this man?”

  “No.” A slight attraction did not equal attachment. “I like him.” She could admit that much. “I don’t know why.” She slumped in the chair. “He’s not a fan of ecotherapy. Only signed up for more sessions because he liked the idea of art therapy even less.” And he needed the minimum required therapy hours to be able to stay at Hope Hill.

  Dan tapped his steepled fingers together as he evaluated her revelations. But instead of warning her to be careful with Cole, he moved on. “How are you doing with Trevor?”

  Trev. Annie switched gears. “I wish I could see him more.”

  “Maybe soon. I do think you and I will have to do the lion’s share. No offense to Milo, but Trevor isn’t going to improve from having needles stuck in his ass.” He waved his hand as if trying to erase that last word. “Sorry. I’m tired. I’ve been working too much.”

  Dan was somewhat of a professional snob. Out of all the people at Hope Hill, he considered only Annie as his almost equal, because she had a degree in psychology. He was unfailingly polite to the other staff members and supported their therapies, but he believed them to be the icing on the cake. Annie was pretty sure that Dan thought he did all the real work.

  “What are you working on? Another article?” she asked, because she didn’t want to argue about Milo, who was an excellent acupuncturist.

  “The History of Medieval Medical Practices.” Dan was proud, to the point of vanity, of his publication record.

  He cleared his throat. “Back to Trevor. He’s not making much progress with me. I’m worried about him.”

  That put Annie on alert. Dan wasn’t prone to worry. “I’ll pay extra attention to him at our next session.”

  They talked about Trevor for another few minutes, then about her other patients, and then, at the end, about her continued troubles with Joey.

  After the session, Annie grabbed a granola bar and a cup of tea from the cafeteria before heading out. Time for the morning feeding, finally. Time to let the grazing animals loose in the backyard. Esmeralda the donkey, especially, didn’t like to be cooped up in the garage.

  Her phone rang. Annie took the call as she walked.

  “How are you?” Kelly asked. “I’m so sorry for what happened. I’m going to help you pay for it. Want me to come over to help clean up?”

  “Let’s wait with that until I find out if it’s safe to go in. Thanks for offering. I’m not mad at you. I swear.”

  “I’m mad at myself. Home reno looks a lot easier on TV.” Kelly did sound miserable. “Listen, I just listed a house for a client. When it sells and I get the commission, I’m going to give you the money.”

  “You have your own mortgage. You have alimony to pay.”

  “Loser exes. What’s wrong with them? Has Joey stopped stalking you?”

  Annie glanced at her phone. “No texts so far today.”

  “It’s early yet.” Kelly called out a greeting that came through the line faintly, as if she’d put the phone down for a second. Then she said, “I’m at the agency. People just came in. I have to hang up. Are you going to be OK?”

  “I will be one hundred percent better than OK.” Annie raised her voice a notch so the universe could hear her.

  “Let me know when you find out more about the damage,” Kelly said before they hung up.

  Cole was leaning against Annie’s car in the parking lot, as if he’d been waiting for a while. And maybe thin
king about bench-pressing the Prius out of boredom. Seriously, he probably could have. One-handed.

  He pushed away from the trunk as she reached him. “I thought I’d go with you and help. I have a couple of hours.” He jerked his head toward the silver pickup next to the Prius. “We could take my ride today.”

  “If you have a car, why were you walking to the gas station the other day?”

  “Just rented it this morning. When I came here, I flew into Philly from Chicago and had the shuttle bring me out here from the airport. I didn’t want to drive through Philly one-handed. Out here, it’s no big deal. There’s no real traffic.”

  She eyed the pickup. The truck definitely fit him better than her Prius.

  “Ram 1500 HFE,” he said, as if the words actually had meaning. “Highest gas mileage in its class. I figured I couldn’t get you into it otherwise. EcoDiesel three-point-zero liter, V-6, two hundred forty horsepower, intercooled turbo engine.”

  He looked so pleased with himself that she didn’t have the heart to say no. He was reaching out to another person. He was venturing out into the civilian world. He was taking interest in something other than his dark memories. All of that supported recovery.

  So she said, “I only understood half of that, but OK. Maybe we could pick up a couple of bales of hay.”

  He didn’t exactly smile at her. But the way he looked at that moment, she could almost imagine him having a twin brother who might have smiled. Once. She could almost imagine what a smile might look like on Cole’s face.

  He opened the passenger side door for her, glancing at the Prius. “How do you usually bring home all the hay and feed?”

  “They deliver. But as long as you have this monster, I wouldn’t mind skipping the delivery fee.”

  As she stepped between his car and hers, she caught sight of her employee ID card on her driver’s seat, so she grabbed that and put it back into her purse. Must have fallen out last night. Then she climbed up into the pickup.

  “Big, right?” His voice dripped with manly satisfaction.

  “As far as environmental impact goes? Might as well set the Redwood National Park on fire.”

  “I don’t think the National Park Service would agree.” He sniffed toward her cup. “That doesn’t smell like coffee.”