CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lyle stumbled into his hotel room, his own words echoing through his mind.
“I trust your instincts, I really do, but honest to God, sometimes I wonder …”
He barely noticed his surroundings as he took off his poncho and hung it on a rack.
Why? he asked himself.
Why had he spoken to Carly that way? He knew that his words had been unhelpful and his acidic tone had been hurtful. While it was true that her hunch hadn’t led them to the killer they were hunting, he knew perfectly well that hunches didn’t always pan out. Not his, not hers, not anybody’s.
He had long ago accepted that Carly’s gut instincts sprang from something more than her training as a profiler. Her so-called hunches were often beyond uncanny. And she was right far more often than she was wrong.
So why was
