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Unable to make out a single word, I finally leaned back and rapped a knuckle against the cheap wooden door.

At John’s curt command to enter, I twisted the metal doorknob and pushed the door open. Cold air brushed along my cheeks as I moved to the center of the small office. Immediately I scowled at the open window. Thirty-one degrees outside and this polar bear of a man had the stupid window open.

Behind his desk, John smiled with a straight-teeth grin as he gestured to the lone empty chair in front of his desk. My gaze shifted from John’s extended hand to the man occupying the other chair in the office. Dressed in a black suit and black tie, he radiated federal agent. The man’s ice-blue eyes met mine with an assessing glint. In the few seconds our eyes locked, my past, my thoughts—everything felt exposed.

Breaking from his observing stare, I nodded in greeting to the two men and carefully sat in the empty seat.

“Agent Peters, Alta Johnson. Alta, this is Agent Chandler Peters from the FBI.”

A stiff silence followed the obligatory introductions.

“Nice to meet you,” I said to ease the growing tension. “I’d say thanks for being here, but I’m still a little unsure as towhyyou’re here.”

Agent Peters smiled, one that was a bit mischievous and a tad sad. “I understand the confusion. But once I explain the details of the situation, you’ll be glad we’re here.”

“We?” I shot a confused glance to John, who simply shrugged.

Agent Peters spoke up once again, swinging my attention back his way. “I have a partner here with me. He’ll be working the case as well, though he’s not FBI. Sergeant Mathews, a USPP officer, has both federal and state authority, which could come in handy depending on how this case develops.”

“I see.” But I didn’t. Everything he said was clear as mud. “Where is he?”

Ignoring my question, Agent Peters leaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees. “Have either of you read any news regarding several missing women cases in other parks?” His calculating gaze shifted between John and me. At our simultaneous head shake, he nodded. “Twelve months ago, in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, a woman went missing. No trace. Then another. And another. Ten in total.”

“That’s terrible,” I whispered in shock. I tucked both cold hands beneath my thighs to keep them from coming up to my mouth. That park was where I got my feet wet as a park officer years ago. Estes Park had only been home for two years. “What happened to them?”

His knowing blue eyes found mine and narrowed. “We don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know,” John said with more bite than I’d ever heard him use with a stranger.

“Meaning,” Agent Peters said, angling his body toward John but keeping his gaze locked with mine, “we haven’t found a single body. Not a trace. It’s like these women vanished into thin air. There one second, then gone the next, leaving behind families, friends.”

A million varying thoughts flicked through my mind. “You never caught the person responsible,” I muttered as I looked out the opened window to the gloomy sky. “That’s why you’re here.”

“You catch on quick. I like that. Yes, we believe the two missing women in this park are somehow related to the previous cases.”

“You think he shifted hunting grounds.”

Again his ice-blue eyes bored into mine. “Yes.”

“Because you got too close?”

“We believe so.”

I narrowed my eyes, forming a deep line between them. “You believe so?”

His shrug of indifference came off stiff, like the casual gesture was only for show.

“Who was the special agent assigned to those cases?” Surely one had been assigned by the park service instead of passing it off to the FBI. “And why isn’t he here now investigating this case instead of you?”

A creepy yet sad smile pulled at Agent Peters’ lips, sending a bolt of caution down my spine. “You’re perceptive. That will come in handy as we work the case.”

“You didn’t answer her question,” John cut in as he leaned forward, pressing his forearms along the edge of the desk.

“Well, a special agentwasassigned these cases but—” Agent Peters cleared his throat. “—she was the last woman in the Smokies to go missing.”

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Alta