Free Caught by Harlan Coben

blogs enough to air them."
    "That's hardly evidence you're innocent, Dan."
    "Funny."
    "What?"
    "I thought it worked the other way around. Innocent until proven guilty."
    She tried not to roll her eyes. This was not a game she wanted to play. Time to turn the tide a bit. "You know what else I found when I was investigating you?"
    Dan Mercer seemed to move farther away, almost all the way into the corner. "What?"
    "Nothing. No friends, no family, no real connections. Other than your ex-wife, Jenna Wheeler, and the community center, you seem to be pretty much a ghost."
    "My parents died when I was young."
    "Yes, I know. You grew up in an orphanage in Oregon."
    "So?"
    "So there are a lot of holes in your resume."
    "I'm being set up, Wendy."
    "Right. And yet you showed up at the sting house right on time, correct?"
    "I thought I was visiting a kid in trouble."
    "My hero. And you just walked right in?"
    "Chynna called out to me."
    "Her name was Deborah, not Chynna. She's an intern for the station. What a coincidence she sounds like your mystery girl."
    "It was from a distance," he said. "That's your setup, isn't it? Like she just came out of the shower?"
    "I see. You thought it was a girl named Chynna from your community center, right?"
    "Yes."
    "Of course, I looked for this Chynna, Dan. Your mystery girl. Just to cross my t 's and dot my i 's. We had you sit down with our sketch artist."
    "I know this."
    "And you know that I showed that sketch to everyone in the area--not to mention every employee and resident at your community center. No one knows her, no one saw her, nothing."
    "I told you. She came to me in confidence."
    "Convenient. And someone also used your laptop from your house to send those horrible messages?"
    He said nothing.
    "And--help me here, Dan--someone downloaded those photos onto it too, right? Oh, and someone--me perhaps, if we believe your lawyer--hid disgusting pictures of children in your garage."
    Dan Mercer closed his eyes, defeated.
    "You know what you should do, Dan? Now that you're free, now that the law can't touch you, you should get help. See a therapist."
    Dan shook his head and managed a smile.
    "What?"
    He looked up at her. "You've been catching pedophiles for two years, Wendy. Don't you know?"
    "Know what?"
    His voice from the corner was a whisper. "You can't cure pedophiles."
    Wendy felt the chill. And that was when the trailer door burst open.
    She jumped back, the screen nearly slamming into her. A man with a ski mask slid inside. There was a pistol in his right hand.
    Dan raised his hands, took another step back. "Don't . . ."
    The man in the ski mask pointed the gun at him. Wendy scrambled back, out of sight, and then, just like that, the man in the ski mask fired.
    There had been no warning, no telling Dan not to move or to put his hands in the air, nothing like that. Just the hissing, short boom of gunfire.
    Dan spun and went down face-first.
    Wendy screamed. She dropped flat behind the old couch, as though that could provide protection. From underneath she could see Dan lying on the floor. No movement. A puddle of blood spread around his head, staining the carpet. The executioner crossed the room. No rush. Casual. Taking a stroll through the park. He stopped where Dan lay. He aimed the gun down toward Dan's head.
    And that was when Wendy noticed the watch.
    It was a Timex with one of those twist-a-flex bands. Just like her own dad wore. Everything slowed down for a few seconds. The height, Wendy saw now, was right. So too the weight. Then you add in the watch.
    It was Ed Grayson.
    He fired twice more into Dan's head, a noise like cut-off thuds. Dan's body bucked from the impact. Panic grabbed hold of her. She fought through it. Clear thinking. That was what she needed now.
    Two options here.
    Option one, talk it out with Grayson. Convince him she was on his side.
    Option two, flee. Make for the door, run to her car, get out of here.
    There were problems with both options. Option one, for