"I trusted you, Caity" The still of the night is once again shattered by Caitlyn Cahill's recurring nightmare—her brother standing before her, gripping a butcher knife, his eyes black with hatred. Two years ago, the former Washington, D.C., socialite defied her powerful senator father and risked the ruin of her family by helping the FBI link her troubled brother to a string of horrific murders. "The Capital Killer" was sent to prison for life…and Caitlyn's entire world fell apart. Now, FBI agent Reid Novak is forced to rend the peace Caitlyn has found on a rural Virginia horse farm. A copycat killer is on the loose and slowly toying with Caitlyn—his ultimate target—in a terrorizing cat–and–mouse game. Almost destroyed two years ago by Caitlyn's family, not to mention the Capital Killer's haunting final murder, Reid vows to save the woman he's never forgotten or die trying. "A smooth prose style and an authentic Big Easy vibe distinguish Tentler's debut...the shivers are worthy of a Lisa Jackson."-Publishers Weekly on Midnight Caller "...filled with suspense and mystery, and centered around a compelling plot with a terrifying villain...This is one riveting read." -Romantic Times Book Review on Midnight Caller "A romantic thriller that continually keeps you on the edge of your seat."-Fresh Fiction on Midnight Caller "Leslie Tentler shows what she is capable of...producing a first-class suspense/mystery novel."-Manic Readers on Midnight Caller "...this refreshing new talent proves she's got a promising future in this genre." -Suspense Magazine on Midnight Caller Leslie Tentler worked in PR before writing fiction. Her first manuscript won multiple RWA chapter contest awards, including the prestigious Maggie Award of Excellence. Leslie is a native of Kingsport, TN. Growing up, she was an avid reader, first of Nancy Drew novels and then surreptitiously devouring her mother's historical romances at probably too young an age. Her reading interests later moved to dark, contemporary romantic thrillers, which she writes today. She lives in Atlanta. Two Years Later Near Middleburg, Virginia I trusted you, Caity. Caitlyn Cahill jerked awake, her heart racing. It took a second to realize she'd been dreaming again. Still, her brother's face—his voice—had been as clear as if he'd been standing next to her bed. In her dream–image of Joshua, he gripped a large kitchen knife and his eyes were black with hatred. She had the nightmare at least once a week. With a slow release of breath, she sat up and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Outside her bedroom window, she heard only familiar morning sounds. Although it wasn't quite light yet, a meadowlark chirped from a branch in the stately orange–leafed oak, and a horse's whinny drifted up from the stables. Caitlyn had taken refuge in the rolling horse country of Northern Virginia, using her trust fund to purchase the rambling, two–story farmhouse with stables and acreage. She'd had to get away. After Joshua's capture, after her father's fatal stroke, there had been little left in Washington to keep her there. The high–society lifestyle she'd been raised in had come to an abrupt end. Ostracized was the more specific description of her treatment. At times, she admitted only to herself that she wished Joshua had died from his gunshot wound, or drowned after his fall into the Potomac, instead of law enforcement fishing him from its icy depths. But then she felt guilty, then guilty again for thinking of her brother instead of the six innocent lives he had taken. He was sick. But was that an excuse? Nothing could ever explain what he had done. When Joshua's trial was over—a three–week maelstrom involving forensic evidence and psychological testimony—Caitlyn had quietly packed and left without a word to those who had once been her family's supporters and friends. She understood anyone with the last name Cahill was a pariah now, and that it was best for others to disassociate lest they carry residual dishonor. Her father, Senator Braden Cahill, hadn't been able to bear the weight of Joshua's sins. He'd collapsed during a press conference announcing his resignation, and died a week later. Then her mother, Caroline, had lost what was left of her mind. The Rambling Rose stables and farm had provided the distraction Caitlyn needed, had given her a purpose that made it possible to go on living despite the notoriety and shame. She'd transformed the stables into a therapeutic equine center that helped disabled and dis–advantaged children by allowing them to groom, care for and ride horses. Caitlyn had given her time, energies and funds to create the nonprofit, animal–assisted therapy program. In her mind, Rambling Rose was a way to somehow try to make up for the evil her brother had done. It was late October, and the crisp early morning air made the old house chilly. Caitlyn pulled a roomy cable–knit sweater on over her pajamas, then padded downstairs to m