She set down the Glock 19, still undecided whether the purchase had been worth it. She preferred her Springfield XD(M) because it fit her hands better. Her boss cut her some slack and let her carry the XD(M), since with it she was the best shot in the department. But the Glock was the official weapon of the sheriff’s office, and so she had to qualify with it, as well.

At the thought of her boss, she would have fired another round if she hadn’t already emptied the magazine. What if Trey Colton lost the election that was less than a week away now? She couldn’t imagine working for someone else. Not to mention that if he didn’t win, it would be so egregiously unfair. He was the best sheriff this county had ever had. But there was a serial killer still on the loose nearly ten months after the first body had been found, and the outcry was mounting. And while it was hardly Trey’s fault, he was the public face of the department, so all the blowback hit him.

Daria pushed the button that brought the target silhouette back to her. She studied the pattern of holes. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, but it wasn’t pretty. She’d visited the ten ring a time or two, but otherwise she’d been wide and high. She smothered a sigh.

For a moment she went through the postshooting routine, focusing on every step as if she’d never done it before. She knew she was trying to stop thinking about everything that had crowded into her mind, throwing off her concentration. Her frustration about this case was uppermost, but a certain FBI agent was nearing the top of the list, as well.

And to think she’d been pleased when Trey had selected her to be the local liaison with the Bureau. But that was before she’d laid eyes on Stefan Roberts. In all his tall, broad-shouldered, hard-muscled glory. She’d never really thought of herself as a woman who would go for a younger man, but that guy would give any breathing woman pause. In a twisted sort of way that made her not particularly happy with herself, she was glad his domestic situation was a mess, because it had enabled her to get over the initial shock of this gorgeous creature and put him where he belonged.

In the “not interested in” category.

And yet in the three months they had been collaborating together, the man had turned her carefully controlled life upside down. He was as fiercely dedicated to this case as she was, and that made working with him easier than it could have been. He had also done what she’d been trying unsuccessfully to do for years—he’d unraveled the sad conclusion to her mother’s story. She now had the history of Ava Bloom and knew the bravery her mother had shown. Thanks to Stefan.

He had done it as a favor to her. Without hesitation. And she couldn’t describe how that had made her feel.

“Well, you qualified, but barely.”

“I’m not done yet,” Daria told the range master, who had appeared behind her. The man smiled at her. For a rather crusty old guy, Ray Ingersol could be nice sometimes.

“And with those words, wars are won,” he said.

She smiled back at that. “I feel as if I’m in a war,” she admitted.

“Awful stuff going on. Awful stuff.”

She couldn’t argue that. With a fresh target and a new magazine, she shut everything else out of her mind and imagined having this ruthless Avalanche Killer in her sights. And this time when the target came back, there were four holes in the ten ring—three small individual holes, and one big ragged one.

Ray gave a low whistle. “Eight through the same hole? That’s some fine shooting, Deputy Bloom. I’m guessing you’ll be wanting that one turned in as your qualifying score?”

“Turn them both in,” she said as she gathered up her brass.

Ray’s smile widened, and he gave her an approving nod. “Honesty. I like that. It’s in short supply these days.”

“Sadly true.”

“Any closer on finding that maniac?”

“I think the official phrase is ‘the investigation is ongoing.’”

Ray snorted inelegantly.

“My sentiments exactly,” she agreed.

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