Chapter 26
Sloane
Panic rose in my chest as I scanned the seemingly endless photos of me on this wall.
Me walking into Island Adventures. Climbing into my car at the trailhead.
Preparing for my parents’ anniversary party.
Standing on my back patio at sunset, coffee mug in hand, completely unaware someone was watching from a distance.
Photos taken every day since I’d first felt followed on the trail.
“He’s been stalking you since you got away the first time,” Knox said, his voice deadly quiet. Controlled rage simmered beneath each word. “Planning. Waiting for the right moment. Since the day we met at Mom’s shop.”
I worked to steady my breaths and forced myself to look more closely at the images.
My panicked mind attempted to see past the fact I was in every photo and catalog the other details, in case there was something bigger to take away.
Different locations, different times of day, different days. Methodical. Patient. Obsessed.
A crawling sensation spreading across my skin, instinct urging me to run.
“Knox.” Colton’s voice turned us back to the front room. He’d returned to the maps, using a small stick to lift the corner of one.
And there, underneath, was one final photo that sent a deluge of my silent tears free.
Claire Hawthorne stood outside Island Adventures, arms full of kayak paddles, smiling at something beyond the camera’s frame. Recent, judging by her clothes and the flowers blooming in the window boxes.
Probably only a month or so before her death.
“He was watching Mom too.” Knox’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for the photo, then stopped himself. Evidence. We couldn’t disturb evidence.
My hand moved to my throat, the healing marks there throbbed with resurfacing memories.
I pushed myself past the horror of the surveillance photos to focus on other evidence.
I couldn’t afford a mental breakdown or a full-blown panic attack right now, and that’s exactly what I’d get if I lingered on the photos too long.
Knox cursed. He pulled out his phone, snapping photos of everything inside the small building. Documentation before the sheriff’s team arrived.
Footsteps on the wooden porch froze us all.
Knox moved instantly, positioning himself between me and the door, one hand pushing me toward the back corner. Colton did the same with Maggie, the two men forming an impenetrable barrier.
A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against midday light. Young, maybe early twenties, thin and nervous-looking. Definitely not the man who’d attacked me.
“Oh, shit,” the kid said, hands raised, voice shaking. “I’m just staying here for the weekend. I’m not part of whatever that is.” His gaze moved over the photos and maps, and his face went white. “I swear it.”
“Who are you?” Knox’s voice was calm, authoritative. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m Sam. I move around. I sleep here when I’m on the island.” The kid lowered his hands slowly, but kept them visible. “This place was always abandoned. Then he showed up.”
“Who showed up?” Colton asked.
“I don’t know his name. A guy. Tall, heavy build. Drives that blue-and-white van.” Sam’s hands trembled.
“How often does he come here?” Knox asked.
“Couple times a week, maybe? Sometimes more. He brings supplies, stays for a few hours, then leaves. I’ve been hiding when he’s around. Something about him just feels... wrong.”
“What else?” Knox demanded.
The kid’s gaze darted nervously around. “Uhm, I don’t know.
He comes and goes. Sometimes he’s here for days, sometimes he’s gone for weeks.
He takes his stuff when he goes for more than the day.
He says this place is his. I’ve been hiding in the woods when he’s around, trying to stay out of his way. ”
“Why didn’t you report this?” I asked, stepping out from behind Knox despite his warning hand. “Why didn’t you call the police when you saw these photos?” I gestured toward the back room.
“Oh, man.” Sam’s skin paled impossibly further. “That’s you in the pictures.”
Knox went very still. “What else do you know?”
“I don’t know anything.” Sam’s palms flipped up again. He took a backward step, and the men before me advanced.
“Stop.” Knox’s voice was deadly calm, his posture and expression, lethal.
Beside him, Colton radioed Nash. “Sheriff? We’ve got confirmation. The ranger station is our suspect’s base of operations.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. Who are you guys?”
“Don’t worry about that. Keep talking,” Knox instructed.
“Uh.” Sam wet his lips, scanning the building, shaking. “Look. I’ve got nothing to do with this. No affiliation with him. I just come here to sleep when I don’t have anywhere else. You’ve got to believe me.”
“Three women have probably died at his hands.” Maggie’s voice was sharp. “He’s hunting our friend. You’re our only link, and we need your help.”
“Fuck. Dammit.” The squatter’s composure cracked. “This guy kills people? I mean, he’s creepy, but I just thought, I don’t know. He might blow up at me, and I didn’t want the hassle. I just hike and surf. You know?”
Knox radioed the sheriff. “Need an ETA? We have a witness.”
“Copy that. Moving in with a forensics team. ETA five minutes. Good work. Feds will be here in an hour. We’ll have something to give them.”
The kid leaned against the doorjamb for support, ice-cold fear in his eyes and features. “FBI,” he whispered. “Shit.”
Knox glanced my way, then radioed once more. “We also have a potential victim in need of protective custody and a hot meal. Early twenties, male, living on site. Can you arrange—”
Engine noise cut through Knox’s words. Distant but growing closer. A vehicle on the access road, approaching fast.
Archer’s voice burst through the radio. “Incoming! Blue-and-white VW bus, heading straight for your position.”
“Everyone out. Now.” Knox grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the back exit. “Colton, get Maggie to the tree line. Sam, you’re coming with us. Move!”
We burst out the back door and into the forest beyond, Knox practically dragging me through underbrush and over fallen logs. Behind us, the engine noise grew louder, closer. Tires crunching on gravel.
“Down,” Knox hissed, pushing me behind a massive fallen pine. Colton and Maggie dove into nearby scrub brush. Sam followed, pressing himself flat against the ground.
Through gaps in the vegetation, I watched the VW bus roll into the clearing. Faded blue-and-white paint, exactly as I remembered from the trailhead. Exactly as I’d seen parked outside Mrs. Lake’s house.
The engine settled, and my breath caught.
No one got out.
From our vantage, we had a clear view of the rear bumper, a limited view through the rear window. The silhouette of the driver passed over the rearview mirror, too far for me to identify the face. The license plate was from Oregon.
He knows, I thought. Somehow he knows we were inside.
Minutes stretched like hours. Even the birds went silent around us, likely sensing a predator nearby. Only our quiet breathing and the distant sound of water echoed moving through the marsh.
Then, the engine started and his reverse lights came on as he backed out of the clearing.
Knox raised his phone, camera focused on the license plate. Shutter clicking silently as he captured image after image. Partial plate, full plate, side view showing identifying marks and damage to the VW.
The van disappeared down the access road, engine noise fading into the distance.
Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
“Archer,” Knox said into the radio, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me you got eyes on that van.”
“Negative. He took a side route before reaching my position. Visual lost. But I got the plate number on his way in. Sending it to the sheriff now.”
Knox released a long burst of swearing, then tried the radio again. “Nash?”
“Forensics team is two minutes out. We’ll process the scene, put out a BOLO on the vehicle. Good work, people. You just gave us everything we need to hand this guy to the feds.”
Relief flooded through my system, making my limbs feel weak and shaky. I was sure we’d just lost every chance at capturing this guy, but I was wrong. That had been the panic talking. We’d done everything right, exactly as we’d planned. And we’d all survived the encounter.
Knox pulled me close, pressing his face into my hair. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Terrified, but good.” I let myself lean into him, and allowed the adrenaline to course freely, rattling my teeth and shaking my core. “That was him.”
“I know.”
“He was right there,” I said. The reality of the last few moments hit like a brick. “He came so close to finding us.”
“He didn’t. We’re safe.” Knox pulled back, cupping my face. “You were brave and smart and you didn’t panic when you had every reason to. I’m so damn proud of you.”
Colton and Maggie emerged from their hiding spot, both looking pale but determined.
Sam sat up, still trembling.
“The sheriff’s team will take your statement,” Knox told the kid. “They’ll get you somewhere safe. Protective custody until we catch this guy.”
“Thank you. For believing me.” Sam blew out a shaky breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to a sketch artist. I can give them a solid description.”
Colton and Knox exchanged a look, then they took turns shaking Sam’s hand.
Sirens in the distance announced the sheriff’s arrival. Within minutes, the clearing filled with deputies, forensics techs, and crime scene tape. Professional, efficient, thorough.
Sheriff Sullivan pulled Knox aside while a female deputy took my statement.
Through it all, I kept replaying the way the killer somehow sensed something was wrong, then left.
And the photos. All curated for a madman’s collection.
“Ms. Mercer?” The deputy’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Just a few more questions.”
I nodded, but my attention had snagged on something Sheriff Sullivan was saying to Knox, his voice low and urgent.
“—registered to Walter Lehman. Prior arrests for stalking in Virginia, assault in Maryland. …believe he may be connected to other crimes. Feds aren’t elaborating.”
Walter Lehman. Tears burst from my eyes. It was him the whole time.
“Pick him up,” Knox said. “He’s going to run. Or escalate.”
“I’ve already got a pair of uniforms en route. They’ll be waiting when he gets home.” The sheriff glanced at me, his expression grim. “She needs protection. Around the clock.”
“I’m not leaving her side,” Knox said. “I’ve got Archer and Colton for backup. We’ll keep her safe until Lehman’s in custody.”
“I should have known,” I said, anger mixing with fear. “When he showed up at Island Adventures. When he offered to help search. He was inserting himself into the investigation.”
“Classic predator behavior,” Colton agreed. “They like to watch. Be part of the hunt even after the kill.”
“And we let him,” Knox said, his voice hard. “We talked to him. Multiple times. Gave him information about what we knew.”
“He played us,” I said.
The sheriff gripped the back of his neck, a worried gaze fixed on Knox. “I get that you and your friends are highly trained, but this guy isn’t some opposing military force. And given the speed at which the FBI set their men in motion, I think Lehman’s something much worse.”
A muscle ticked along the side of Knox’s jaw. “He’s not getting anywhere near her.”