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  “How . . .” Kir’s words faded. It was simply impossible to imagine his father appearing on a church doorstep with the sole purpose of asking a complete stranger to officiate his funeral.

  “Weird?” Bradshaw offered.

  “Yeah.”

  “‘It is He who reveals the profound and hidden things,’” the pastor quoted from the Bible.

  “I suppose.” Kir wasn’t in the mood to discuss theology. He wanted to know what was in his father’s mind. “Did he say anything else?”

  “Not really.” Ron’s eyes abruptly widened. “Oh. Wait. I almost forgot.” He dug into the pocket of his heavy jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Here.”

  Kir allowed the man to shove the paper in his hand. Was it a bill? Maybe he expected to get paid on the spot.

  “What’s this?” Kir demanded, even as he mentally calculated how much cash was in his wallet.

  “I don’t know.” Ron shrugged. “Your father handed it to me before he left the church and asked me to give it to you after the funeral. I assume it’s a personal note he wanted you to have once he died.”

  The vague sense of unreality was laced with a strange prickle of fear as Kir stuffed the paper into the pocket of his coat.

  “You really didn’t know my dad,” he muttered, suddenly needing to get away from the snow-smothered cemetery and the pastor who was regarding him with a sympathetic smile. “Thanks again.”

  “The doors to the church are always open,” Ron called out as Kir turned to hurry down the narrow path to his waiting SUV.

  “Rest in peace, Dad,” he prayed as he drove away.

  Dear Rudolf,

  I’m sorry to say you had a shitty funeral. The attendance was sparse and the few who were there hurried away as soon as the preacher said amen.

  I did warn you that I was the only one who truly cared about you.

  Why did you threaten to betray me?

  Now you’re gone and my lust is no longer leashed. It’s exploding out of me as if a dam has burst. And I’ve already chosen my first . . . hmm, should I call her a victim? She’s not innocent.

  She spread my most private treasures across the snow as if they were trash. She gutted me to reveal my innards to the entire world. And then she laughed. The harsh braying laugh of a donkey.

  No, she’s not innocent.

  This time I will be the one laughing as I watch her crimson blood stain the pure white snow. Life spills from warm to frozen. The pain is gone.

  Don’t look.

  Revenge is mine....

  Sherry Higgins sat on a high stool in the small office building overlooking the Pike Trailer Park. She was a large woman with a square head and a matching square body she currently had stuffed in a velvet jogging suit. Her father had spent her childhood calling her a worthless blockhead—only one of the reasons she’d spit on his grave. The only decent thing he’d ever done was die when she was a young woman, giving her sole ownership of the park. It wasn’t a great living, but the rent from the trailers, plus utilities, provided enough to scrape by.

  On the other side of the counter a young man with a haggard face and messy red hair was glaring at her with bloodshot eyes.

  “You . . .” Spittle formed at the edge of his mouth. “Bitch.”

  She rolled her eyes, returning her gaze to the television set on the corner of the counter. The idiot had stormed into the office when she was watching her favorite reality show.

  “Your job is to throw families out of their homes in the middle of winter?”

  “Wanna stay warm? Pay your rent,” she told him.

  “I’m going to. I have a new job I’m starting on Monday.”

  “That’s what you said last month.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  She waved a silencing hand in his direction. “I don’t want to hear it. Pay or get out.”

  “Where are we supposed to go?” the man whined.

  It was the same conversation Sherry had endured a thousand times over the past twenty years.

  Boo hoo, I lost my job, my kid is sick, my car broke down . . . blah, blah, blah.

  Everyone had an excuse why they couldn’t fulfill their obligations.

  “I run a trailer park, not a charity,” she told him. “Call the government, they’re always handing out money to lowlifes who can’t keep a job. People who work never get nothing but the bill.”

  “At least give me a few days to find someplace we can stay,” he pleaded. “We have a baby.”

  “Not my problem. You have . . .” Sherry glanced toward the large clock attached to the cheap paneling that lined the outer office. “One hour left to pay the rent or I’ll turn off the electricity and water. Ticktock, ticktock.”

  Without warning the man slammed his hand down on the counter. “Someday you’re going to get what’s coming to you.”

  Sherry leaned forward, glowering at the intruder. “There’s a camera right there.” She stabbed a sausage-shaped finger toward the ceiling where a small hole was drilled. There wasn’t anything there—she was too cheap to actually buy security equipment—but the threat was usually enough. “You say another word and I’ll have you charged with harassment.”

  The man’s face turned a beet red, but he turned and stomped across the floor. “I hope you rot in hell,” he yelled as he slammed shut the door behind him.

  Sherry snorted. “I’ve been rotting in hell for years,” she muttered.

  With a shake of her head she returned her attention to the television. She was far more interested in what was happening with the naked people trying to survive in the wilderness than the people who rented her trailers. Bunch of losers.

  Darkness thickened outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the windows. It was past five, but Sherry made no move to go and check if the delinquent tenants had made their exit from the park. If they were there in the morning, she’d have the sheriff kick their asses out. It was too damned cold to do anything tonight.

  Flicking off the television, she stood and moved to lock the front door. Her own trailer was at the end of the park, which meant she didn’t have to face the icy roads to get home. Still, she wasn’t excited by the thought of the frigid walk through the dark.

  Not for the first time she considered moving closer to the office. She wouldn’t have the yard that currently surrounded her mobile home, or a view of the lake, but she could avoid the trudging back and forth.

  Heading out through the back-storage room, she didn’t bother to turn on the lights. It was easy enough to follow the narrow path between stacked boxes and old, broken furniture. She could do it with her eyes closed.

  It wasn’t until she heard the unmistakable tread of a footstep that she regretted the thick darkness that made it impossible to see.

  Her heart thudded, the pizza she had for lunch churning uneasily in her stomach.

  “Hello? Who’s there?” Reaching out her hand, she tried to find something she could use as a weapon. There was nothing. “How the hell did you get in here?”

  “I’m sorry, Sherry.”

  A portion of her terror lessened. There was something familiar about the voice. Was it one of her tenants?

  “You better be sorry,” she told the intruder, reaching into the pocket of her jogging suit to pull out her phone. “This is breaking and entering. Don’t think I won’t call the sheriff.”

  There was a sound like someone clicking their tongue. “You brought this on yourself.”

  “Bullshit. If you needed something, you should have come through the front door during normal business hours.”

  Sherry hit the flashlight on her phone and swung it toward the intruder. The idiot was too far away to make out more than the fact that he or she was bundled in a heavy coat with a stocking cap on their head and something clutched in their hand.

  A gun?

  Shit.

  “You never change,” the intruder drawled. “All that squawking in an effort to disguise just how weak you are.”

/>   “Weak? I’m not weak,” she tried to bluff, cautiously inching backward. If she could get into her office, she could lock the door and call the sheriff. “Just ask anyone.”

  “Terrorizing helpless victims doesn’t make you strong. Most cowards are bullies.” The arm lifted, pointing the gun straight toward the middle of her chest. “Laugh for me, Sherry.”

  Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. “What?”

  “Laugh.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Do it.”

  The words were low . . . almost gentle . . . but they sent a blast of terror through Sherry. This wasn’t some weird-ass joke. The intruder was going to shoot her if she didn’t find some way to get out of there.

  Parting her lips, she forced a hoarse laugh past the lump jammed in her throat. It echoed through the room, sounding unnaturally loud in the silence.

  “Just like a donkey.” There was disgust in the voice.

  Sherry flinched. Her father used to say that. You bray just like an ass. . . .

  She slid her thumb to the corner on the screen of her phone and pressed. That was emergency service, wasn’t it? Then, praying that someone was on the way to save her, she tried to distract the intruder. “What did I ever do to you?”

  He stepped forward. “You didn’t see.”

  “See what?”

  “Me.”

  Sherry scowled. Why was the weirdo talking in riddles? If they had a beef with her, then just spit it out.

  She was on the point of demanding an explanation when she heard the sound of a click followed by a sharp pain in her right shoulder. Had he shot her? It didn’t sound loud enough to be a gun, but maybe he had a silencer on it.

  Terrified to even look, Sherry forced herself to glance down at her shoulder, not sure what to expect. What she saw wasn’t a gaping hole or spurting blood from a bullet wound. Instead it looked like a long metal tube was sticking out of the velvet material of her jogging suit.

  She tried to puzzle out what was happening, but her brain felt fuzzy. As if it was being stuffed with cotton. And her dry mouth was now parched.

  What the hell?

  She took a stumbling step in a futile effort to escape, but her weak knees abruptly gave way and she landed flat on her back. She grunted in pain. She was a large woman who hit the cement floor with enough force to knock the air from her lungs. It wasn’t the impact, however, that caused her heart to halt in pure horror.

  It was the dark form that moved to stand directly over her.

  “Laugh for me, Sherry.”

  Chapter 2

  After a night of tossing and turning, Dr. Lynne Gale had barely managed to fall into a deep sleep when a wet tongue swiped over her cheek.

  With a groan, she shoved away the furry face. “Go away.” There was another lick and she reluctantly cracked open one eye to discover Barkley, a fifty-pound rescue mutt, perched on the bed. She’d brought the wiggling mass of goofiness home from the rescue sanctuary to give him a good grooming before his new owners picked him up at her veterinarian clinic. “Stop tugging on the sheets,” she muttered. “We need to do something about your manners. It’s far too early to play.”

  As if to mock her words, a shrill alarm blasted from the nightstand.

  “Arg.” Lynne glanced toward the clock that claimed it was four thirty a.m. How was it possible? She’d just closed her eyes. “Okay, okay,” she told the dog. “Let go of the covers and I’ll feed you.”

  With a bark that was far too happy for this time of morning, Barkley jumped off the bed and headed to the door. Lynne grabbed a thick robe and followed at a much slower pace.

  Usually she didn’t mind the ungodly hours her job demanded. She loved what she did and was always eager to enjoy the day, but her restless night had left her feeling lethargic. The unexpected death of Rudolf Jansen had obviously hit her harder than she’d realized, and combined with the sight of Kir after so many years . . . She’d been weirdly unsettled.

  What she needed was a hot shower and a mug of coffee. In that order.

  An hour later she’d showered, swallowed a gallon of coffee, and switched on the bedroom television as she pulled on a half dozen layers of clothing. Braving the early morning farm calls in Wisconsin wasn’t for the faint of heart. Or the underdressed.

  Frostbite wasn’t a joke.

  She was struggling into her coveralls when the sound of an urgent voice on the television captured her attention.

  “We have breaking news exclusive to Channel Four,” a smooth male voice said as the morning talk show was replaced by a man seated behind a news desk. “The naked body of an unidentified woman was discovered on the property of Raymond Warren three miles west of Pike. The authorities confirm her death is being investigated and they are asking for citizens to contact them if they noticed anything suspicious. More details at six tonight.”

  Lynne switched off the television and headed out of the house. Any crime was unusual in their small community, let alone one that involved a naked woman. She could only assume the woman had been killed somewhere else and her body dumped.

  It didn’t make the story any less horrible, but it did allow Lynne to dismiss it as she concentrated on driving to the first dairy farm on her list. She had a full schedule that included a milk cow with an infected udder, a horse with an abscess on his hoof, and a newborn calf who refused to nurse. That didn’t include any emergency that might come in.

  Four hours later she at last finished her rounds. Driving to her clinic, she was nearly frozen to the bone and desperately hungry, but there was no time to do more than grab another cup of coffee and a donut before dealing with the waiting room full of patients.

  By noon she was sitting in her office, breathing a sigh of relief as her receptionist and two temporary interns headed out to lunch. There was blessed silence, or at least as close to silence as you could get in a clinic that had an attached kennel for those animals scheduled for surgery, or who were simply too sick to go home.

  At least Barkley’s new owners had swung by to pick him up. There was nothing more satisfying than watching a neglected dog go to a family who were anxious to smother him with love.

  She was sprawled limply in her chair when she heard the sound of the front buzzer. The clinic was technically closed during lunch, but everyone in town knew she was here in case of an emergency.

  Rising to her feet, she walked down the hall and into the reception area of the clinic. It was a long, narrow room that was lined by plastic chairs, and at the end was a high counter for her receptionist. Eventually she hoped to build on an addition that would include a larger lobby as well as two more exam rooms. That would allow her to hire another vet to ease the workload that was threatening to overwhelm her.

  Reaching the door, she pulled it open to reveal the tall man standing just inches away. Kir Jansen. Instantly, her heart gave an odd leap. Not out of surprise—she’d been expecting him. But because he looked so absurdly handsome as he smiled down at her.

  He’d been cute as a teenager, with his golden blond hair, impossibly blue eyes, and square chin. Now his features had hardened to a stark beauty and his body had filled out with the sort of muscles that revealed he spent precious little time sitting behind a desk. At the moment that very fine body was emphasized beneath his leather jacket and black slacks.

  “Lunch, as promised,” he murmured, holding up a small basket.

  Lynne glanced toward the parking lot, wondering why she hadn’t heard his car pull in. When she didn’t see a vehicle, she sent Kir a startled glance. “Did you walk here?”

  “It’s only two blocks,” he reminded her, then shivered as a sharp breeze whipped around the corner of the brick building.

  She waved him in and hurriedly closed the door to prevent the icy air from entering. Her electric bill was shocking during the winter months. And the action gave her the opportunity to appreciate the man’s very fine backside.

  When she was in high school, she never understood why
the other girls giggled when Kir passed them in the hallway. She was too busy with her schoolwork and helping her dad at the clinic to have time for boys. Now, however, she understood.

  This man could make any woman giggle and flutter in all the right ways.

  Clicking the lock, she turned to lead him out of the reception area and into her office. The scent of his warm skin brushed against her like a caress, and she sucked in a deep breath without bothering to hide the shiver of pleasure that raced through her.

  Why not enjoy having Kir as her lunch companion? It wasn’t like she had a plethora of gorgeous, sexy men in her life.

  In fact, she had exactly zero.

  “I don’t suppose you included something to drink?”

  She moved to the long table at the back of the office, shoving aside the stacks of files to give Kir space to set down the basket.

  “I have a few bottles of water,” he said, pulling out the containers of food along with the water.

  She heaved a teasing sigh, settling on one of the folding chairs. “I was hoping for whiskey, but water will do.”

  He arched a brow, taking a seat beside her. “Rough day?”

  She shrugged, watching as he filled a paper plate with precisely cut sandwiches and a pile of potato chips. “Farm calls in this weather are always rough,” she admitted, arching her aching back before she reached for the sandwich.

  “Do you enjoy your work?”

  “I love it. I can’t imagine doing anything else,” she said without hesitation. She took a bite, surprised by the flavor that hit her tongue. She’d made tuna fish all her life, but this was different. It had spices and egg and relish. Yum. She swallowed. “Your father mentioned you’d opened your own businesses in Boston. I never thought of you as an entrepreneur.”

  His lips twitched, as if he knew she was recalling the reckless, out-of-control boy who lived on the edge of danger.

  “It actually started as a fluke,” he told her. “I was trying to earn extra money to pay for tuition when I started running errands for my professors. I walked their dogs, washed their cars, picked up lunch, and even took their cars to have the oil changed. Eventually I realized if I concentrated on taking care of the tasks no one else wanted to do, I could make a lot more money than an entry-level accountant.” He opened a bottle of water and set it in front of her. “Now I have over a hundred employees throughout Boston and Philadelphia. Whatever you need done, we’ll take care of it.”