Midnight Exposure by Melinda Leigh

here.”
    “That’s the way I see it, too.” Hugh fired up the engine and reached for the door handle. His wipers brushed fresh snow off the windshield with a squeak. “Normally, this is a pretty boring town.”
    “All these recent weird events can’t be coincidental,” Reed said. He and Hugh exchanged a look. Cops weren’t big believers in coincidence. Bloody visions from a cult murder case he’d investigated years before swam in Reed’s head. The thought of Jayne mixed up with something like that made his stomach roil.
    “I agree. But I’d appreciate it if you’d keep my request quiet. As far as anyone else needs to know, you’re just helping with the search for the missing lady. No need to upset anybody until I have more information. Nathan doesn’t want to believe any of these things are connected.” Hugh didn’t need to spell it out. Many of the businesses in town depended on campers, hikers, and hunters. Murder was hell on tourism.
    “I’m heading back to the diner. Nathan’s called in more volunteers.” Hugh cast a worried eye toward the sky. “According to the forecast, we have maybe six more hours before we have to call off the search until the storm passes. Though, frankly, I don’t know where else to look. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
    Reed swallowed. Lady Luck had never liked him very much.
    “I could use some help organizing volunteers,” Hugh said.
    “Right behind you.” Reed’s stomach churned. As he climbed into his truck, his eyes drifted back to the moose carcass.
    Someone in Huntsville was literally out for blood.

    Jayne continued to work, keeping her ears open for any sound that’d indicate her kidnapper had returned. A shiver moved up her spine as she thought of her abductor. A strange psycho serial killer had been watching her. Following her. He’d slashed her tires. But why?
    The answer stood out like a marquee.
    To keep you from leaving town
.
Duh.
    Jayne’s numb fingers slipped on the curved metal, and she snapped off her thumbnail below the quick. The spark of pain that shot into her hand was blunted by the cold. She flexed her fingers to force blood through the digits before returning to her task.
    As she wiggled and turned the hook, an unfocused memory edged into her mind. Hands lifted her body. A voice murmured. The picture faded as suddenly as it formed. Jayne tried to yank the impression back into her head, but the harder she concentrated, the more her brain refused to cooperate.
    Jayne shook herself and bent down to inspect her progress. The hook felt just a little bit looser and turned with less resistance.
    She supposed it could be worse. Whoever had abducted her could have stripped her naked. He could have raped, tortured, and murdered her by now. Instead, she was still looking forward to those upcoming festivities. Occult-type visions of black candles and chicken blood swam through her head.
    Why else would he keep her alive?
    She stifled a hysterical sob and applied more pressure to the hook in the wall as she turned it. The cut on her palm reopened.
    The falling snow thickened, blowing and drifting against the small windows. As daylight gradually abandoned her, Jayne’s eyesight adjusted. She worked methodically on turning and circling the metal pin long after her cramped fingers began to bleed. Until she heard a sound that brought fresh panic bubbling into her throat. A hot rush of adrenaline wiped out any thoughts of exhaustion.
    Upstairs, a door had opened.

CHAPTER TEN
    Footsteps tracked across the ceiling above Jayne’s head and echoed in the empty space.
    Despite the cold, despite dehydration, fear pushed sweat from her body. She grasped the chain in both hands and pulled frantically. Fresh blood oozed from her wrists and fingertips. Jayne felt the hook slip, just a bit, and pulled harder, throwing all her weight backward with each heave. She choked up on the chain and braced one foot up on the wall. Her shoulders and back strained. The mortar gave