Page 85 of Hunting Justice

She shrugged off his touch. The hurt in his eyes gutted her, but the contact was more than she could handle and maintain her sanity.

With one last visual pass around the room, she darted out the door. Hand over her mouth, she hurried toward the bushes near the house.

The memories flew around in her mind like a swarm of gnats. Hands on her knees, she gasped for air.

Jonah crouched next to her but didn’t make physical contact. “What can I do?”

After several minutes, she drew in a long breath. “Nothing. It caught me off guard. I’m okay now.”

“I kinda doubt that, but I’ll trust you.”

Leave it to Jonah to speak the truth. She straightened. “Where’s Matt?”

“Standing about ten feet away, looking guilty.”

The corner of her mouth hitched. “Poor guy.”

Jonah snorted.

“Seriously. Even I didn’t think I’d have that kind of reaction.” Noelle shoved her hands in her pockets. “Let’s go talk with him.”

Jonah joined her as they strode toward the detective.

Matt grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, Matt. You did the right thing.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I can say without a doubt that the room setup and methods are identical.”

“That’s what we thought, but we wanted to make sure.” Matt blew out a long breath. “Now for the million-dollar question. Where’s Richard Nelson? And who is his son?”

“As for the where part, you’ve checked all the possibilities you thought of. But what if he’s dead?” Jonah swept his hand in an arc. “There’s a lot of property.”

“You think someone killed him and buried him out here?” Matt’s eyes widened.

“Anything’s possible. No one has seen him in nine years.” Jonah shrugged. “Got a better idea?”

“Not really.” Matt pulled his phone from his tactical pants. “I’ll get the dogs.”

Noelle refused to get her hopes up. Not that she wished death upon anyone, but the thought of never worrying about her serial killer again brought tears to her eyes. She ambled to her car and sat on the hood, forcing the memories to fade.

Jonah boosted himself next to her. “Do you want to stay or go home?”

“Stay. I need this. I have to know.” She stared off at the wooded area behind the house. “Jonah, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She shook her head. “I meant I don’t think there can be an us. At least, not more than a friendship. After what happened out there, I’ve realized I’m more messed up than I thought. You deserve so much more than I can give.”

“I disagree.” He held up a hand to stop her. “A discussion for a later time.”

An argument sat on the tip of her tongue, but she’d keep it to herself—for now.

Four hours later, the cadaver dog found a body buried on the property near the woods.

Was it her serial killer? And if so, who had tried to kill her and Jonah?

EIGHTEEN

THURSDAY, 9:00 A.M.