Page 19 of Hunter

Her own breath came in ragged gasps as if she was the one who had struggled out of the death trap.

God, what kind of sadist would treat a fellow human being that way? And coldly record it on videotape. Maybe there was some justification for what had happened in the locker room. The security men had been angry and upset. But this was cold-blooded torture.

Rage overpowered her—a pure abiding rage that brought with it an almost physical pain. She wanted to smash something. Smash the television screen that had shown her the dreadful scene. Yet she was too rational to strike out in that fashion.

So, she sat in the chair, clasping the armrests in a death grip and trying to get her emotions under control. It took several minutes before she could stanch the tears running down her cheeks as she replayed the scene in her mind, saw again his shocked expression before the water hit him. Nobody had told him what was going to happen. They’d taken him by surprise—and given her a vivid insight into why he found it difficult to trust her or anybody else.

She glanced over her shoulder, almost expecting to find Anderson standing in the doorway watching her with his coldly speculative eyes.

Why had he included this revealing scene with the tapes? she wondered. Had she misread him? Was he alerting her to the kind of inhuman experiments they were doing in this hellhole with the bucolic name of Stratford Creek? Or was he warning her not to interfere? Maybe the surprise viewing had simply been an accident.

With shaky fingers, she pressed the rewind button and waited impatiently until the machine stopped whirring. Ejecting the videotape, she juggled it in her hand. She wanted to remove it as evidence, knew that wasn’t an option. The tape would be missed—either by Anderson or someone else. So, she ducked into a ladies room and splashed water on her heated face, trying to make herself look normal again before exiting the building.

Chapter Four

Kathryn pictured herself driving straight to the administration building, pushing past Emerson’s tough little receptionist, and bursting into his office. But coming at him breathing fire was hardly the way to get what she wanted.

She’d been part of enough bureaucracies to know that it was almost impossible to get anything done unless you worked within the system. But the training center was off-limits. Swinton had control over Hunter’s records. And she didn’t know whether Anderson was a friend or a foe. If she’d had the option, she would have driven through the front gate of Stratford Creek and back to Baltimore, where she could get some aid and comfort from the Light Street Irregulars.

But that wasn’t an option, she reminded herself.

When she reached her car, her eyes widened as she spotted a piece of paper neatly rolled into a tube and stuffed under the door handle. Probably not an advertisement for a new pizza parlor at the local shopping center, she thought as she pulled it free.

Unwinding it, she found a message that looked as if it had come from a computer printer. It said:

“Medical center. One fifteen. Cardiovascular unit. Hunter will be available to you.”

There was no signature and no way of knowing who wanted her to come to the medical facility. Or why. This might be the chance she’d been waiting for, she thought with suppressed excitement. What if she had an ally at Stratford Creek—someone who didn’t want to announce his support for her at a staff meeting?

The euphoria faded quickly. It was equally possible that McCourt or maybe Winslow was setting her up to get caught disobeying orders. Or someone could simply be playing mind games with her.

But at least she could give herself a legitimate excuse for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She’d been putting off surrendering the standard medical forms that she’d been given. Now was the perfect time to turn them in.

Quickly she glanced at her watch. She was going to be late if she didn’t hurry.

After picking up the forms at the cottage, she drove to the medical center. As she stepped inside the front door of the building, a woman in a nurse’s uniform looked up. “May I help you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, then turned to locate the cardiovascular unit on the directory. It was on the first floor, right wing.

Sailing around the corner, she pushed open the door to the unit and found herself in a waiting area with a desk and three orange plastic chairs. The room was empty, and she felt a surge of disappointment as she decided someone was probably playing games after all.

But she wasn’t going to give up yet. Crossing the room, she pushed open an inner door and stepped into a dimly lit hallway. All she could hear as she tiptoed forward was the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears. One door near the end of the hall was open, and she thought she saw the shadow of a tall man standing inside. As she stared at it, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Chip McCourt again, this time with a sardonic grin on his face.

But what if it were Hunter?

Before she could lose her nerve, she crossed the remaining distance and stepped into the little room.

With a sense of relief, she took in the dark hair, broad shoulders, and narrow hips of the man standing a few feet away. Even from the back she recognized Hunter instantly.

Her initial surge of relief gave way almost immediately to gnawing tension in the pit of her stomach. He’d left her in anger. He was supposed to be dangerous. And they were alone again.

Dressed in a gray tee shirt, sweatpants and gym shoes, he was facing the window, gazing toward men on riding mowers cutting the straggly grass. He looked as if he wanted to escape from confinement—run free across the expanse of grass and into the woods beyond. At least that was how she interpreted his fixed posture.

“Hunter? It’s Kathryn Kelley,” she said with a little tremble in her voice.

His back stiffened, but he didn’t move, didn’t turn.

Before she could stop herself, she closed the door. Moistening her dry lips, she took several steps closer. The room was small, and she found herself only a few feet from him, angling her gaze upward to compensate for the disparity in their heights. “Are you angry?” she asked.

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