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even heard of Carlos Santino or his gang...except for her.
    How could that be a coincidence, especially when you threw in Jay’s attempted murder? Had he finally found her so he could pay her back for her testimony against him? He’d threatened her, warning that he would find her and kill her with his own hands. And that had sent her running.
    Hiding.
    There was only one thing to do next. Find out if Santino had escaped. Tracy dug through the drawers in the old rolltop desk that came with the cottage, her nervous fingers creating a mess of the contents and making it more difficult to find the card she needed. She should have memorized the number. But she’d wanted to put that part of her life as far behind her as possible. Find some normalcy.
    Lord, why did this happen?
    She huffed a laugh. She was asking Jay’s question now. She hoped they would both get answers.
    There. She gripped the corner of the card at the very back of the drawer. Of course. Tracy slid it to the front and lifted it from the drawer. The insignia at the corner was a marshal’s badge similar to those worn in the Old West movies, only this one had an eagle embossed over the top of the badge. It read “US Department of Justice, United States Marshals Service.” Then “Jennifer Hanes, Deputy US Marshal” was printed beneath those words.
    Jennifer would have handled Tracy’s transfer into the WITSEC program if Tracy had chosen to go that way. She had told Tracy to call her if she ever needed her.
    Tracy’s hand shook so much, she couldn’t read the number. She placed the card on the desk. Though she dreaded the call she had to make, Jennifer would be able to give her answers. The problem was Tracy wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what the woman had to say. Still, she needed to know if Santino was still in prison or if he had escaped.
    She moved around the cottage until she found a good signal and made the call. It went to voice mail and Tracy left a quick message. She didn’t detail what had happened; only asked if Santino was still in prison.
    “Please call me back,” she said. “Something’s...happened.”
    Tracy ended the call. She had thought she’d never talk to Jennifer again. She hadn’t imagined she would ever have to. Setting the phone on the desk, she admitted that she’d really just hoped and prayed she would never have to contact Jennifer again.
    The call made, there wasn’t anything more Tracy could do until she heard back. She’d told the Mountain Cove police everything that had happened today. Everything except about her past and why she’d come to Mountain Cove. Telling them a killer could have followed her here when she was still considered relatively new to the community might make her look like a troublemaker. She’d been afraid to take that risk.
    Though she’d lived here only a couple of years, Tracy loved Mountain Cove, and up until today, she had thought she’d found a place she could finally call home. She could never go back to live in Missouri, where her family lived, or Sacramento, where she’d worked as a newspaper editor and where she’d met Derrick. Where all her troubles had begun.
    Of course, if Santino had actually come after her here, then she needed to tell the police everything so they would understand what they were up against. She wondered if other law-enforcement entities would get involved, too, swarming down on Mountain Cove. Then the community would wish they had never seen Tracy Murray.
    At the moment all she needed was time to think things through. Then if she confirmed it really was Santino she would proceed according to plan, whatever that was. Unfortunately, she didn’t know where else she could go.
    How could anyone have found her here?
    In the old comfy chair by the fireplace, Tracy tugged her knees up to her chin and watched the flames. Even though it was summer, the evenings were cold enough in Mountain Cove, Alaska, to justify lighting the fire. Soaking in the warmth, she tried to