Page 88 of Deadly Target (Rocky Mountain Courage 2)

“He’s on the FBI wanted list. A hired gun.”

Erin fought to breathe.

“Wait,” Nathan said. “Someone actually hired this man to kill?”

“Yes. We’re looking into the who and maybe that will tell us the why, unless Dr. Larson or Miss Edwards knows something they aren’t telling us.”

“So someone hired this assassin, and now he is also dead. What are your theories?” Nathan asked.

The waitress delivered their plates, and Erin thought she would scream while she waited.

Finally, the detective unfolded his napkin in his lap. “This is what I love about diners. The food is fast but not too fast.”

“If you take one bite before you share your theory, I’m going to walk out of here,” she said.

He almost smiled. “You see, you’re lying to me. You won’t walk out. I could see you dumping coffee over my head, but you’re not walking out.”

“Why all the drama, man?” Nathan sounded irritated.

“No drama. Just waiting for privacy.” He put the portfolio back on the table. Shifted through and found another photograph, which he laid in front of them.

Erin gasped and shared a wide-eyed look with Nathan.

“I see you know this man.”

She pressed her hand against the image. “Yes, but where did you get this picture? How is this related?”

“You first.” He sipped on his coffee.

She glanced at Nathan, and he nodded. Erin didn’t much like Munson’s games. “Two days ago, someone tried to kill us. He took out a logging truck driver. The driver’s in critical condition but not dead. This man stood in the road and shot at us.”

“So the boating incident is about you, then, and not your friend. This man was seen at the docks near the time of the boat owner’s murder. Evidence is circumstantial, but we’re working on bringing charges—that is, if we can find him.”

“So you don’t have a name yet?”

“A couple of aliases have popped up. We’re still digging.”

Nathan shifted away from the table. “Aliases. Murderers. Hired assassins. If the man driving the boat was hired to kill, and he was also killed, who do you think was behind it? This guy?” Nathan pressed his finger on the photo.

“Possibly. I’ll be honest, I’m no expert in the world of hired assassins. Was it a competition? An argument between them that ended badly? Or had the assassin in the boat botched the operation and was then taken out? I don’t know.” Detective Munson’s gaze shifted to Erin, and regret surged in his eyes as if he wished he wasn’t having the conversation in front of her.

But he had, and there was no going back. A lump grew in her throat. She dropped her hands to her lap and squeezed her fists. “How ... How could it be about me?”

Munson leaned back. “I’ve been looking into the stats on public broadcasters, radio hosts being stalked—that kind of thing. Podcasting falls into that category. Hiring assassins is next level stuff, though.”

At Erin’s surprised look, he continued.

“You never answered my question about why you keep it a secret. Anonymous.”

“Because as you brought up, no one would know it’s me.” At least that had been her hope. But after the comment left on the podcast website, she wasn’t so sure.

The detective watched his tapping fingers on the table. He was thinking about something. Building up to something. “What if ... What if someone listened to your podcast? Maybe it’s a particular cold case you’ve featured in the past or are currently featuring. Maybe you’re digging into things, questioning things, and he wants to keep you silent. So he sent someone to silence you.”

She sank back against the hard booth. “Podcasters aren’t targeted in this way. You’re reaching.” And maybe that was because she was the only podcaster who’d lived through a crime to talk about it. Maybe the abductor had always known who she was and where she was. She rubbed her arms at the thought.

She’d spent most of her childhood, and many years in therapy, trying to learn how to deal with what happened that night. Regardless, Erin’s way of handling it was to keep secret from the world around her that she was Erica Weeks. Now the secret she’d kept so close, held so tightly, about that horrific night was bursting out from every direction. Now was the time to open up, but her throat grew tighter, and the words wouldn’t come.

Nathan pressed his hand over hers and squeezed, his silent message loud and clear.

Tell him.

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