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was intact, but the windshield was shattered, the driver’s door stood ajar, and branches and limbs had caught on the roof and door.
    “You already checked out the car?” Mason asked.
    “Just a visual to see if anyone was inside, but I didn’t touch anything.” He gestured toward the handbag on the seat. “Left her purse there. Thought we’d want to photograph everything before we searched it and sent it to the lab.”
    “Good,” Mason said, grateful the sheriff hadn’t bungled evidence like some locals he’d encountered before. The smallest detail could prove to be important in analyzing the crime and catching this unknown subject, or UNSUB.
    Mason shined his flashlight across the car interior. Blood dotted the dashboard and glass, and the seat had been torn as if someone had clawed at it.
    Then he spotted a baby rattle that had rolled beneath the seat.
    Hmm...did Nellie have a child?
    “Look at this,” the sheriff muttered.
    Mason walked around the car and stooped down where the sheriff aimed his light on the tire. “Looks like it was slashed.”
    Mason’s heart pounded. “Just enough to create a slow leak so the tire would blow.”
    The sheriff gestured toward the road with his hand. “Probably blew up there, she lost control, ran off the road and ended up here.”
    Mason noticed drag marks by the door and tried to visualize the crime in his mind. “The killer was following her. He watched her to crash. She hit her head, she’s disoriented and he drags her out of the car.” He paused, the images playing out. “At first she doesn’t realize what’s happened. She thinks this man might have stopped to help her. Then he drags her into the bushes and stabs her.”
    “But why?” the sheriff asked. “Does he know her? Did he choose her for some reason?”
    “That’s what I intend to find out.” Mason snapped some pictures of the car and surrounding area, took several shots of the slashed tire, then retrieved the woman’s purse and rifled through it.
    “ID confirms she’s Nellie Thompson. She was twenty-four, lives nearby. I’ll send a patrol man over to search her house.” He rummaged deeper and located her cell phone, but the battery was dead. He’d check it out, though. She might have had contact with her killer. Or if she was being followed by a stranger, she might have tried to call for help.
    “Check the 911 calls and see if she phoned one in.”
    The sheriff nodded, then the sound of an engine cut into the quiet, and they made their way back to the body to meet the crime unit.
    Cara was kneeling by Nellie’s body again, her expression torn. He understood how much more difficult it was to have to work a case when it involved someone you knew. Someone you cared about.
    Another reason he’d vowed never to get close to anyone again.
    But she stood and pivoted, then walked toward the crime scene tech who was descending the hill, and his chest clenched at the sight of her pregnant belly.
    He’d never imagined loving anyone again, not since the girl he’d fallen for when he was eighteen.
    And he’d certainly never imagined having a child.
    But a surge of longing hit him like a bolt of lightning during a storm.
    Fool.
    The baby might not even be his.
    But what if it was?
    Why hadn’t she told him? And what would he do if it was his child?
    * * *
    C ARA TOOK A DEEP BREATH as Mason approached. He looked larger than life as he strode up the hill, the evening shadows framing his silhouette like a tough cowboy from a movie set.
    Except this scene was very real. And a patient and friend of hers was dead.
    The crime techs introduced themselves, and the sheriff directed them to the burial spot.
    “We found her car.” Mason’s jaw tightened as his gaze fell on her belly. “Her tire was slashed, then it blew, causing her to run off the road.”
    A shiver rippled up Cara’s spine as she realized the implications. “So someone targeted her before the attack. He was following her.”
    “That’s