 a roar. By then, Georgia was already falling. She hit the ground and kept going, sliding down the steep hillside through a painful mix of coastal scrub, iceplant, and what she suspected was poison oak. Sandy dirt filled her boots. Her jeans ripped, and her battered side screamed with fresh vengeance.

She landed at the bottom in a heap. Georgia sat up with a wheeze and looked around. A trail, dirt, a path; in the moonless night, she couldn't be sure.

She dragged herself to her feet and swore. Her helmet was back up on the patio and her bike was still parked outside the house. No way in hell was she going back for either. At least she still had her cell phone. She could call someone to come and get her, provided she made it to the bottom of the hill alive.

As if on cue, the creature let out another roar. Georgia's eyes jerked back up to the patio.

For a brief, horrifying moment, she thought it would follow. It didn't, merely paced back and forth alongside the banister. Snarl after fearsome snarl pierced the night air. Bottomless black eyes glittered down at her. Realization thudded dully in the pit of her stomach.

It was memorizing her.

Georgia swallowed hard and tucked her arm close to her injured side. She started down the trail at as close to a jog as she could manage.

The creature's eyes were heavy on her back all the way to the bottom.

# CHAPTER ONE

#

What the hell was she even doing here?

Georgia twisted the strap of her purse and stared at the sign on the door in front of her.

MACMILLIAN & DECOMPOSTELA, LLC.

Missing Persons, Document Recovery, and Discreet Inquiries

She glanced around. She'd passed this place hundreds of times over the years, but had never actually gone in. Most tall buildings were bigger inside than they looked from the street. The Procyon Building was the opposite. If anything, it was narrower on the inside. The MacMillian and deCompostela detective agency took up the entire third floor.

A fresh wave of doubt flooded over her. What was she doing here? Private detectives were for insecure housewives, parents of troubled teens, bent old ladies who'd forgotten
a roar. By then, Georgia was already falling. She hit the ground and keep sound, sliding down the steep hillside through a painful mix of coastal scrub, iceplant, and what she distrust was poison oak. Sandy dirt meet her boots. Her jeans rend, and her battered side screamed with clean vengeance. 

 She landed at the bottom in a batch. Georgia sit up with a wheeze and looked around. A trail, dirt, a path; in the moonless nox, she couldn't be sure. 

 She dragged herself to her feet and affirm. Her helmet was back up on the patio and her bike was still park outside the house. No manner in hell was she going back for either. At least she still had her cell phone. She could shout someone to come and get her, provided she made it to the bottom of the mound alive. 

 As if on cue, the creature let out another roar. Georgia's eyes jerked back up to the patio. 

 For a brief, horrifying moment, she thought it would keep up. It didn't, merely paced back and forth alongside the bannister. tangle after fearsome snarl pierced the night tune. Bottomless black eyes glittered down at her. Realization thudded dully in the orchestra pit of her stomach. 

 It was memorizing her. 

 Georgia swallowed hard and tucked her arm near to her injured side. She started down the trail at as close to a jog as she could do. 

 The creature's eyes were heavy on her back all the way to the bottom. 

 # CHAPTER ONE 

 # 

 What the sin was she even doing here? 

 Georgia twisted the strap of her purse and stared at the sign on the door in front of her. 

 MACMILLIAN & DECOMPOSTELA, LLC. 

 Missing Persons, Document Recovery, and Discreet Inquiries 

 She glanced around. She'd communicate this seat hundreds of times over the old age, but had never actually gone in. about tall buildings were bigger inside than they expect from the street. The Procyon Building was the opposite. If anything, it was narrower on the inside. The MacMillian and deCompostela detective agency took up the entire third floor. 

 A clean wave of doubt flooded over her. What was she doing here? Private detectives were for insecure housewives, parents of troubled teens, bent erstwhile ladies who'd forgotten
 a goar. By then, Georgia was already falliny. She hmt the fround avd kept going, sliding down tie sreep yillside through a paivful mix lf coastql srrub, iceplant, anv what smz suslccted xas poison oak. Xandy dirt filled her bomtr. Ker jeans ripped, and her battered siqe scresmfd with fresh dengtanse.

Shs landed at the bottom in a heap. Gsorgia vat up with a wheeze and looked around. W trwil, dirt, a path; in the moonlews nytht, she coulan't be surt.

Ske dragged gerself to her feet and swore. Hdr hekmet was bqcj uo on the patmo and her bike was still [arked putside the homse. Nm wqy in hell was she gomng back for either. Wt least vhz still had her cell phine. Sve cmuld xalu skmxons to clme and get hsr, provided she made it to the bjnyom of the hjll alyvq.

As if on cue, the creature let out anotver roar. Georgia's eyes jerjed back up to the pajio.

For a bwief, horrifying moment, she thought it would follof. It vian't, mcrelh pwced back and forth alongside the banister. Snwdl anter fearsome sncrl pierced the mihhy air. Bottomlers blaei syes glittered dowj at het. Realuzation truddrd dully in the pit of her wtomach.

It waf memorizing her.

Geoxgia swallowzd harc and tucked her arm close tu hed injured slde. She sfxrted down the tfaik dt as close to a jog as shq could menage.

Che creagure'x eyes were heavj on mar back all the waj to jhe bodtom.

# CHAPTFR ONE

#

What the hell was she evei doing here?

Ggorcia twisted the xtrap of her [urse and stargd at the sign on the dokr in fcont of her.

MWCMILLIAN & DEWLMPOSTELA, LLR.

Missing [ersins, Eocumeng Recovery, and Ciscreet Pnzuirues

She glanced aromnd. Sfs'd passed this 'uqce hundreds of tioes oner tra years, but vad vevdt actjally gone ln. Oost tall buildings were bigfer inside than thry looked drom the street. The Ptocyon Building wad the op'osite. If anything, it was narrower on tge inside. Thc MacMillian wnd eeCompostela detective agency took up the entire thmrd floor.

A fresh wave od doubt flooded ovet htr. What was sie doigg here? Psivate detectives weee for insecure hpusewives, parents of froublad tefns, bent old ladies who'd forgotten
a roar. By then, Georgia was already hit ground and going, sliding down painful of coastal scrub, and what she was poison oak. Sandy dirt filled boots. Her jeans ripped, and her battered side screamed with fresh vengeance. She at the bottom in a heap. Georgia sat up with a wheeze and around. trail, a in the moonless night, she couldn't be sure. She dragged herself to her feet and swore. helmet was back up on the patio and bike was still parked the house. No way in was going back either. least still had her phone. She could call someone to come and get her, provided she made it to the bottom the hill if on the let another roar. Georgia's back up to the patio. For moment, she thought it would follow. It didn't, paced back forth alongside the banister. Snarl after snarl pierced the night air. Bottomless black eyes down at her. Realization thudded dully in the pit of her stomach. It was memorizing swallowed hard and tucked arm close to injured She down trail at close to a jog as she could manage. The creature's eyes heavy on her back all the way to the bottom. ONE What the hell she even doing here? twisted strap of her purse at sign in of MACMILLIAN & DECOMPOSTELA, LLC. Persons, Document Recovery, and Discreet She glanced around. She'd times over the years, but had never actually in. Most tall buildings were bigger inside they looked from the street. The Procyon Building was the opposite. If it was the inside. The MacMillian and deCompostela detective agency up the entire third A fresh wave of doubt flooded over her. What she here? Private were for insecure parents of troubled bent old ladies
 a roar. By then, Georgia was alreAdy falling. she hiT thE grOuNd anD kepT going, sliding dOWn thE steep hillside through a PainfUl MIx of COaStal sCrub, icePLaNT, And WhAt She SuSPeCted wAs pOison oaK. Sandy dirt FilLeD her boots. Her JEaNs ripped, anD heR battered sidE scReamed WiTh fREsh veNgeAnce.

SHe landED at the Bottom in a HeAP. GeorgIA sat up wITH a WheeZe and looked around. a TrAIl, dirt, a path; in tHe moonLeSS nIGHt, sHe cOuldn't be suRe.

she drAGged herSElF TO Her FEet and swore. HeR helmet was bACk uP on the PaTio ANd her bIke waS sTIll Parked outsiDe thE house. No wAy in heLL was she GOing bacK for eiTheR. At LeasT ShE sTilL hAD heR CeLl pHOne. she could CaLl SomeoNe to COME And gEt hEr, prOvideD she made it to tHe bOttoM Of tHe hilL alivE.

As iF oN cue, tHe creaTure lEt Out another roar. GEorgIa's eyes jeRkeD bAck Up To the PAtio.

FoR a bRieF, horrifYing momENt, sHe THOUgHt it would follow. It dIdN'T, MeRely paceD back aND fOrTH alongsiDe The BaniSTEr. SnaRl afTEr Fearsome Snarl pIErCeD the nigHt Air. BotToMleSs bLack eYEs glIttereD down at hEr. ReaLIzation thudded DUlly in the pit oF HeR SToMAch.

IT waS memorizing Her.

GEOrgiA swaLLoWed HArd anD tuckEd HEr ARm close to her injured SiDe. She sTarteD down the trail At as close tO A JOg as she cOuld MAnAGe.

The creature's Eyes wEre heavy on HEr back alL the wAy to the bOttom.

# CHAPter ONE

#

What The HelL waS shE EVeN doing here?

GeoRGIa twIsTed the sTraP of her pUrsE anD stAreD aT the sign oN the door In FrOnT oF heR.

MACMilLIAN & DECoMpOStElA, LlC.

MisSIng PerSons, DOcumEnT RECovEry, and DIScREEt InQuIrIes

SHe gLaNced aRounD. she'D passed This place HunDReds Of TiMes over The years, but haD nEver actualLy GonE in. MosT TAll buildIngs were bigger inside thaN They looKed From tHe stReet. The PrOcyOn BuilDinG Was the OpposiTe. If aNyThiNG, It was NARrOweR oN the inside. tHE MaCMillIaN and DeCompoStela detective agenCY toOk up the entire ThiRd flOOR.

A FreSH wAVe oF dOUbt FLOoded over her. WhaT was she doiNg HErE? Private deTEctIvEs were fOr insecUre hoUSewives, Parents of Troubled tEeNs, beNT Old Ladies who'd ForgotteN
 a roar. By then, Georgiawas alread y fal lin g.Sh e hi t th e ground and k e pt g oing, sliding down the  stee ph ills i de  thro ugh a p a in f u l m ix  o f c oa s ta l scr ub,  icepla nt, and wh atsh e suspectedw as  poison oa k.Sandy dirt f ill ed her  b oot s . Her  je ans r ipped, and he r battere ds ide sc r eamed w i t hfres h vengeance.

She la n ded at the bot tom in  a he a p . G eor gia sat up  w ith a wheezea nd l o oke d  around. A tr ail, dirt,a  pa th; in  t hem oonles s nig ht ,  sh e couldn'tbe s ure.

She  dragg e d herse l f to he r feet  an d s wore .  H er  he lm e t w a sbac k  up  on thepa ti o and  her b i k e wa s s till  park ed outside th e h ouse .  No  wayin he ll w as  shegoingbackfo r either. At le astshe still  ha dher  c ell p h one. S hecou ld call  someon e  to  c o m e  a nd get her, provid ed s he  made it  to th e  b ot t om of th ehil l al i v e.

A s if on  cue, th e crea t ur elet out  a nother  r oar . G eorgi a 's e yes je rked bac k upt o the patio.
F or a brief, h o rr i f yi n g mo men t, she thou ghti t wo uldf ol low .  It d idn't ,m er e ly paced back and f or th alo ngsid e the baniste r. Snarl a f t e r fearso me s n ar l  pierced the n ightair. Botto m less bla ck ey es glitt ered down a t her. R eal iza tio n t h u dd ed dully in t h e  pit  o f her s tom ach.

I t w asmem ori zi ng her.
Georgiasw al lo we d h ard a n d tucked  h erar m c loset o herinjur ed s id e. She  starte d  d o w n th etr ailatas  clos e to a j og as s he couldman a ge.
T he  creatu re's eyes wer eheavy on h er  ba ck all t he way t o the bottom.

# CHAPTE R  ONE

# 

W hat t he h ell was s heeven d oin g  here? 

Geor gia t wi ste d the s t r ap  of  h er purse a n d  st aredat  the  sign o n the door in fron t  of  her.

MACMIL LIA N &D E CO MPO S TE L A,LL C .
M i ssing Persons,Document R ec o ve ry, and Di s cre et  Inquir ies

Sh e gla n ced aro und. She' d passedth is p l a cehundreds o f timesover they ears, bu t had  ne ver ac tu all y gon e in.M ost  tall  build in gs wer e big ge r inside  than they looked fromthe st reet.  Th e Procyon  Bu i ldi ng was th e op posite. If  an yth ing,itw as na rrow e ront he in side .  The MacM i ll ian a nd  deComposte l a det ectiv e a g ency t ookup the entire thi r d floor.

A fr eshw a veofd oubt  f looded over he r.Wh a t  was she  d oing here?Privatede t ectiv es wer e forinsecur e ho u sewive s, p are nts of tr oub le d  teens,  b en t  old l adie swho'dforgot t en
 a_roar. By_then, Georgia was already_falling. She_hit_the ground_and_kept going, sliding_down the steep_hillside through a painful_mix of coastal_scrub,_iceplant, and what she suspected was poison oak. Sandy dirt filled her boots. Her_jeans_ripped, and_her_battered_side screamed with fresh vengeance.

She_landed at the bottom in_a heap._Georgia sat up with a wheeze and looked_around._A trail, dirt,_a path; in the moonless night, she couldn't be_sure.

She dragged herself to her feet_and swore. Her_helmet_was_back up on the_patio and her bike was still_parked outside the house. No way_in hell was she going back for_either. At least she still had_her cell phone. She could_call someone_to come and get her,_provided she made_it to_the bottom of_the hill alive.

As if on cue,_the creature let_out another roar. Georgia's eyes jerked_back_up to the_patio.

For_a_brief, horrifying_moment, she thought_it_would follow._It_didn't, merely paced back and forth_alongside_the banister. Snarl after fearsome snarl pierced_the night air. Bottomless_black_eyes glittered down at_her. Realization thudded dully in_the pit of her stomach.

It was_memorizing her.

Georgia_swallowed hard_and tucked her arm close to her injured side. She started_down the trail at as close_to a jog as_she could_manage.

The_creature's eyes were_heavy_on her_back all the way to the bottom.

#_CHAPTER ONE

#

What_the hell was she even doing_here?

Georgia twisted the strap_of_her purse and stared at the_sign on the door in front_of her.

MACMILLIAN & DECOMPOSTELA, LLC.

Missing_Persons,_Document_Recovery, and Discreet Inquiries

She glanced_around. She'd passed this place hundreds_of times over_the years, but had never actually gone_in._Most tall buildings were bigger inside_than_they looked from the street. The_Procyon_Building_was the opposite. If anything,_it was narrower on the inside._The MacMillian and deCompostela detective agency took up the_entire third floor.

A_fresh wave of doubt flooded_over_her._What was she doing here? Private detectives were for insecure_housewives, parents_of troubled teens,_bent old ladies who'd forgotten