Deadly Fear
Page 24
Good. “Davis, I want you and your men to take the three cabins on the west side.” She looked up, letting her gaze touch on Luke and Kenton. “We’ll take the east side.” Hold on, Sam. She exhaled and pinned Davis with her stare. “Not one whisper of a siren, got it? I don’t want him to know we’re there.”
The female deputy, Melinda, stood behind the sheriff. From what Monica could tell, she was the one he trusted the most. But fear flickered in her dark eyes. Fear and excitement.
Monica knew that was one dangerous combination.
“We’ll be as silent as a whisper,” Melinda promised.
“Everyone, watch your ass.” The butt of her gun pressed into her side. “He’s playing with us, and taking Sam…” Too easy to follow the breadcrumbs and find those cabins on the map. “It could be a lure to pull us in.”
Because the guy had been planning everything so carefully. The victims, their phones—he’d known he would be contacting her. Because he’d known the SSD would become involved? “He knew Sam’s fear long before she got off the plane,” she whispered and knew it was true. He’d known about Sam. And he knows about me.
“The bastard set one trap already with Jones,” Luke’s voice came, strong and steady. “Stay on guard. We need to be ready for any damn thing.”
Including a guy using his victims as killers. “He’s done his homework,” Monica said. “He’ll be ready, and we have to be ready, too.”
The faces before her were tense. Grim nods met her words; a few offered, “Yes, ma’am” responses. She licked her lips. “Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Monica said, “because Agent Kennedy is not dying on my watch.”
She vomited water. Dirty brown water that shot from her mouth and nose. Wood bit into her palms as Sam tried to shove off the dock.
Too weak.
More water poured from her mouth. Her eyes burned. She couldn’t see anything. Too blurry.
And she hurt. Every part of her.
Laughter.
Her arms gave way, and she fell onto the dock.
“That was fun. For a minute there, I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get free of those ropes.” His voice. Taunting her.
She’d kill him.
A violent coughing fit had her body jerking.
“Looks like that hurts,” he murmured, and the dock creaked beneath his feet.
She swung out at him. She caught his legs and shoved. He fell back, slamming his head into the wood.
Move.
Sam lurched to her feet. Water dripped down her body as she stumbled. Get away from him.
From the water.
She’d clawed her way out of that watery grave. No way was she going back. He’d be dying.
He slammed into her just as she jumped off the dock and reached the sandy shoreline. They fell together, and sand flew into her mouth. He pinned her, holding both wrists against the ground and trapping her legs with his.
“Aw, sweet Sam…” His breath feathered over her ear. “You really didn’t think I’d end things this soon, now did you? Playtime’s just gettin’ started.”
She bucked against him and rammed the back of her head into his.
“Bitch!”
“Asshole,” a hoarse croak. “L-let me—”
He spun her around. For an instant, he was a hazy mass above her. Some kind of cap over his hair. Dark shirt. She couldn’t see his face—just a blur and then—his fist came at her.
Driving into her jaw. Once. Twice.
“Think you’re so damn smart, don’t you?” He taunted and her head sagged back. “You’re weak, just like all the others. Weak and scared. A sad little girl, screaming for help that won’t come.”
He stood, kept her wrists pinned together, and began hauling her back toward the water. “This time, I’ll hold you under. Let’s see how long it takes for you to stop breathing. And maybe, maybe I’ll bring you back and do it again.”
Her legs kicked, and she twisted, and the sand flew around her.
“I’ll feel you die.”
Water sloshed against her. A shudder worked through her body. “No, no, you bastard!” It should have been a scream but her throat was too ravaged. “L-let me go! Let me—”
“Scream. I like it when they scream.” Talking to himself more than to her.
He shoved her down into the water face first. His hands tangled in her hair, and he forced her down. Her mouth was open, and water pumped down her throat.
She clawed at his hands. Desperate. No, not like this—
He hauled her up. “Take a breath. Let’s see how long you can last.”
Sam gagged. Fought for her breath.
Then the water came at her again.
The search party headed out, and the damn reporters pounced the minute they left the station. Luke went out first, and they got him. Cameras, bright lights, and microphones were shoved right at his face. Dammit, this was not his scene.
“Is it true the Watchman has a federal agent in custody?” A perky blonde demanded.
“Do citizens need to worry?” A tall man with one really tacky hairpiece asked, his voice oozing fake concern. “Can you keep us safe from the Watchman?”
Luke’s body tightened.
“No statements!” Kenton’s booming voice. “Back off and give the team room to move here, or I swear to God, I’ll make sure none of you get a peep about this until after the national news carries the story.”
The reporters stepped back.
“Cut,” the blonde muttered, while the man adjusted his toupee.
Monica shoved past the throng. Luke kept pace right with her. There had to be about ten more reporters there, all hungry for blood.
“Damn idiot Vance,” the sheriff grumbled behind him. “Found him talking to Charlotte Peters earlier.” A jerk of his thumb toward the blonde. “I sent his ass out on recon. I don’t want him near those reporters again. Watchman, my ass.”
The sheriff stormed toward his cruiser. “Melinda, radio Vance and Pope, tell them to meet us on Vernon, got it?”
Luke jumped in the SUV, and Monica gunned the engine. Kenton would follow behind them. And he’d follow fast.
She slammed her foot on the accelerator, and the SUV shot out of the lot, narrowly missing a news van.
“Monica! Christ, it’s okay, be—”
“It’s not okay.” Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “He’s playing with her now, Luke. Hurting her. Making her scream and beg.”
“We’re going to find her.” Monica had her sights on the killer, only him. The profiler was turned on, locked in. Too locked in. “Don’t think about what he’s doing. Focus on Sam. Finding her.”
“I can’t.” Whispered. Desperate. A tear leaked down her cheek. “I can’t ever turn it off. It’s always there. I’m always thinking like them. Knowing what they’d do. What they’d like. How they’d hunt.” She didn’t look at him, just kept her eyes on the road.
He kept his eyes on her. “You’re not like them.” Her job was to profile; that was it. She wasn’t evil, not like those freaks they hunted.
“Yes, I am.” Still so soft. “More than you can know.”
He touched her arm. Had to. She needed him.
She flinched away.
Too damn bad. His jaw locked, and his fingers curled around her. “You’re not like them.”
Another turn. Pine trees surrounded them now. Tall, twisting pines, their top branches stretching toward the clouds.
“You don’t know me.” Now she did spare him the briefest of glances, and her blue eyes stared blankly at him. Hollow. “You don’t know me at all.”
His fingers tightened around her arm, and he took the hit right to the gut. “Isn’t that what you want?” No one got close to her. Not him, and he’d be willing to bet not any of the others at SSD.
She didn’t answer.
“Why?” The demand slipped out. The GPS tracker indicated they had five more minutes before reaching the cabins. Not much time, but Monica’s shields were down, and he had to know. “Why do you shove the walls between us?” He deserved an answer.
Another turn. Onto a red dirt road. Toward the sun.
“I’m afraid you’ll see who I really am. What I am.”
Luke almost didn’t hear the whispered confession. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d just imagined it. Because that didn’t make a bit of sense to him—and f**k, time to call it like he was damn well seeing it. “Bullshit.”
She braked. A cloud of dirt rose around them. Monica spared him a glance. “Trust me, Dante—”
Dante? Oh, hell, no, she—
“You don’t want to know what’s inside me. Even you couldn’t handle it.” She shoved on her cap and reached into the backseat and snagged her bulletproof vest.
Clenching his teeth, he did the same. But this wasn’t over. “We’re saving Sam,” he told her, “and then you and me, we’re tearing down the walls between us, ripping ’em all down.”
She blanched.
“I’ll know you, inside and out, and you’ll damn well know me,” Luke promised.
CHAPTER Twelve
The place was too familiar. Monica froze beside the SUV, her eyes flickering toward the treetops. Sunlight drifted down to her, fading in tendrils toward the ground. The chirp of birds and insects filled her ears.
The dirt road. So similar.
Her heart thudded into her ribs.
Kenton’s car pulled up behind her. Monica swallowed and took a quick breath.
Hold on, Sam.
She turned around and found Luke watching her. I’ll know you and you’ll damn well know me. Yeah, the promise was in his gaze. But there was more. When it came to her, the guy always saw so much more than others did.
“What’s going on?” he asked, a quiet demand.
“We’re stopping a killer, that’s what’s going on.” They’d parked a safe distance away from the cabins. If the guy was there he wouldn’t be able to hear the sound of their vehicles, not from here. “Kenton, don’t forget your vest.” Because she had a bad feeling about this one. He’s ready for us.
Kenton jerked on his vest and jogged toward them. “You think—you think Sam’s still alive?”
Since Sam had disappeared at the airport, she’d been missing for a little over four hours.
Plenty of time to die. “Yes.” Sometimes, it didn’t really matter what you thought. You had to say what was best for the others.
He let out a hard expulsion of air. “Then let’s go find this bastard.”
Luke didn’t say anything. Just watched her.
He knows I’m lying. And since when could he see past her lies?
He brushed by her. “When this is over, you’re telling me everything.”
She grabbed his arm. “When this is over, I’m locking up a killer, and I’m making sure he never sees daylight again.” This wasn’t getting personal. Not now. They were staying focused on the killer.
Monica pulled her weapon. “We go on my count.” She allowed herself a deep breath. “Stay to cover, no risks, understood?”
“Understood.” From Luke.
“Kenton? Understood?” He always seemed so controlled, like me, but she knew there was a dangerous core to the agent. She’d glimpsed it on a few field missions before.
Like to like.
“Got you.”
“Then let’s go bring Sam back.”
They ran, heading for the first cabin on Briars Lane. So isolated. The two cabins on the east side were the only homes within a fifteen-mile radius. The guy was sure good at picking his kill spots.
The smell of sap had her nose twitching. So many pines here. The ground was hard, uneven, but she moved easily, leading the others.
They found the first cabin almost immediately. Small, one story, with big picture windows along the front. Not on the water, but nestled farther back in the trees. In less than four minutes, they’d gone in and searched every inch of that place, barely making a whisper of sound.
No Sam.
They went back into the woods, moving quietly, quickly. And then she saw the second cabin. Wooden, with an old-fashioned wraparound porch. A small chimney jutted from the top of the second-story’s slanting roof. A picturesque place. The lake glittered behind the cabin, dark waves moving in the sun.
Luke and Kenton stilled beside her.
“Don’t see anyone,” Kenton murmured.
Neither did she, and that didn’t mean a thing. “Go in slow,” she whispered. Maybe Sam was in the cabin, alive.
Hiding in a closet. Waiting for that one weak moment to escape. The stench of death surrounding—
Monica shook her head. “You two take the house. I’ll take the lake.” Because this place would be the perfect kill spot. Isolated, with that second-story view giving the perfect vantage point for a lookout. And the lake, so close by… Sam’s worst fear just a few feet away. If she’d awakened in the house, she would have been able to hear the water. The better to stir her fear.
Monica motioned with her hand, giving the signal to advance. Then they were moving quickly, cutting a trail through the brush and keeping their weapons up.
The men slowed near the cabin and crept up the porch. No groan of the wood. Sweet, sweet silence.
Monica circled around the back of the cabin. That water was Sam’s fear, it would—
“Sam!” The scream tore from her lips even as she broke into a run. “Dammit, no!”
Sand flew from beneath Monica’s feet as she charged for the lake, and for the still figure, floating face down in that murky water.
The female deputy, Melinda, stood behind the sheriff. From what Monica could tell, she was the one he trusted the most. But fear flickered in her dark eyes. Fear and excitement.
Monica knew that was one dangerous combination.
“We’ll be as silent as a whisper,” Melinda promised.
“Everyone, watch your ass.” The butt of her gun pressed into her side. “He’s playing with us, and taking Sam…” Too easy to follow the breadcrumbs and find those cabins on the map. “It could be a lure to pull us in.”
Because the guy had been planning everything so carefully. The victims, their phones—he’d known he would be contacting her. Because he’d known the SSD would become involved? “He knew Sam’s fear long before she got off the plane,” she whispered and knew it was true. He’d known about Sam. And he knows about me.
“The bastard set one trap already with Jones,” Luke’s voice came, strong and steady. “Stay on guard. We need to be ready for any damn thing.”
Including a guy using his victims as killers. “He’s done his homework,” Monica said. “He’ll be ready, and we have to be ready, too.”
The faces before her were tense. Grim nods met her words; a few offered, “Yes, ma’am” responses. She licked her lips. “Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Monica said, “because Agent Kennedy is not dying on my watch.”
She vomited water. Dirty brown water that shot from her mouth and nose. Wood bit into her palms as Sam tried to shove off the dock.
Too weak.
More water poured from her mouth. Her eyes burned. She couldn’t see anything. Too blurry.
And she hurt. Every part of her.
Laughter.
Her arms gave way, and she fell onto the dock.
“That was fun. For a minute there, I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get free of those ropes.” His voice. Taunting her.
She’d kill him.
A violent coughing fit had her body jerking.
“Looks like that hurts,” he murmured, and the dock creaked beneath his feet.
She swung out at him. She caught his legs and shoved. He fell back, slamming his head into the wood.
Move.
Sam lurched to her feet. Water dripped down her body as she stumbled. Get away from him.
From the water.
She’d clawed her way out of that watery grave. No way was she going back. He’d be dying.
He slammed into her just as she jumped off the dock and reached the sandy shoreline. They fell together, and sand flew into her mouth. He pinned her, holding both wrists against the ground and trapping her legs with his.
“Aw, sweet Sam…” His breath feathered over her ear. “You really didn’t think I’d end things this soon, now did you? Playtime’s just gettin’ started.”
She bucked against him and rammed the back of her head into his.
“Bitch!”
“Asshole,” a hoarse croak. “L-let me—”
He spun her around. For an instant, he was a hazy mass above her. Some kind of cap over his hair. Dark shirt. She couldn’t see his face—just a blur and then—his fist came at her.
Driving into her jaw. Once. Twice.
“Think you’re so damn smart, don’t you?” He taunted and her head sagged back. “You’re weak, just like all the others. Weak and scared. A sad little girl, screaming for help that won’t come.”
He stood, kept her wrists pinned together, and began hauling her back toward the water. “This time, I’ll hold you under. Let’s see how long it takes for you to stop breathing. And maybe, maybe I’ll bring you back and do it again.”
Her legs kicked, and she twisted, and the sand flew around her.
“I’ll feel you die.”
Water sloshed against her. A shudder worked through her body. “No, no, you bastard!” It should have been a scream but her throat was too ravaged. “L-let me go! Let me—”
“Scream. I like it when they scream.” Talking to himself more than to her.
He shoved her down into the water face first. His hands tangled in her hair, and he forced her down. Her mouth was open, and water pumped down her throat.
She clawed at his hands. Desperate. No, not like this—
He hauled her up. “Take a breath. Let’s see how long you can last.”
Sam gagged. Fought for her breath.
Then the water came at her again.
The search party headed out, and the damn reporters pounced the minute they left the station. Luke went out first, and they got him. Cameras, bright lights, and microphones were shoved right at his face. Dammit, this was not his scene.
“Is it true the Watchman has a federal agent in custody?” A perky blonde demanded.
“Do citizens need to worry?” A tall man with one really tacky hairpiece asked, his voice oozing fake concern. “Can you keep us safe from the Watchman?”
Luke’s body tightened.
“No statements!” Kenton’s booming voice. “Back off and give the team room to move here, or I swear to God, I’ll make sure none of you get a peep about this until after the national news carries the story.”
The reporters stepped back.
“Cut,” the blonde muttered, while the man adjusted his toupee.
Monica shoved past the throng. Luke kept pace right with her. There had to be about ten more reporters there, all hungry for blood.
“Damn idiot Vance,” the sheriff grumbled behind him. “Found him talking to Charlotte Peters earlier.” A jerk of his thumb toward the blonde. “I sent his ass out on recon. I don’t want him near those reporters again. Watchman, my ass.”
The sheriff stormed toward his cruiser. “Melinda, radio Vance and Pope, tell them to meet us on Vernon, got it?”
Luke jumped in the SUV, and Monica gunned the engine. Kenton would follow behind them. And he’d follow fast.
She slammed her foot on the accelerator, and the SUV shot out of the lot, narrowly missing a news van.
“Monica! Christ, it’s okay, be—”
“It’s not okay.” Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “He’s playing with her now, Luke. Hurting her. Making her scream and beg.”
“We’re going to find her.” Monica had her sights on the killer, only him. The profiler was turned on, locked in. Too locked in. “Don’t think about what he’s doing. Focus on Sam. Finding her.”
“I can’t.” Whispered. Desperate. A tear leaked down her cheek. “I can’t ever turn it off. It’s always there. I’m always thinking like them. Knowing what they’d do. What they’d like. How they’d hunt.” She didn’t look at him, just kept her eyes on the road.
He kept his eyes on her. “You’re not like them.” Her job was to profile; that was it. She wasn’t evil, not like those freaks they hunted.
“Yes, I am.” Still so soft. “More than you can know.”
He touched her arm. Had to. She needed him.
She flinched away.
Too damn bad. His jaw locked, and his fingers curled around her. “You’re not like them.”
Another turn. Pine trees surrounded them now. Tall, twisting pines, their top branches stretching toward the clouds.
“You don’t know me.” Now she did spare him the briefest of glances, and her blue eyes stared blankly at him. Hollow. “You don’t know me at all.”
His fingers tightened around her arm, and he took the hit right to the gut. “Isn’t that what you want?” No one got close to her. Not him, and he’d be willing to bet not any of the others at SSD.
She didn’t answer.
“Why?” The demand slipped out. The GPS tracker indicated they had five more minutes before reaching the cabins. Not much time, but Monica’s shields were down, and he had to know. “Why do you shove the walls between us?” He deserved an answer.
Another turn. Onto a red dirt road. Toward the sun.
“I’m afraid you’ll see who I really am. What I am.”
Luke almost didn’t hear the whispered confession. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d just imagined it. Because that didn’t make a bit of sense to him—and f**k, time to call it like he was damn well seeing it. “Bullshit.”
She braked. A cloud of dirt rose around them. Monica spared him a glance. “Trust me, Dante—”
Dante? Oh, hell, no, she—
“You don’t want to know what’s inside me. Even you couldn’t handle it.” She shoved on her cap and reached into the backseat and snagged her bulletproof vest.
Clenching his teeth, he did the same. But this wasn’t over. “We’re saving Sam,” he told her, “and then you and me, we’re tearing down the walls between us, ripping ’em all down.”
She blanched.
“I’ll know you, inside and out, and you’ll damn well know me,” Luke promised.
CHAPTER Twelve
The place was too familiar. Monica froze beside the SUV, her eyes flickering toward the treetops. Sunlight drifted down to her, fading in tendrils toward the ground. The chirp of birds and insects filled her ears.
The dirt road. So similar.
Her heart thudded into her ribs.
Kenton’s car pulled up behind her. Monica swallowed and took a quick breath.
Hold on, Sam.
She turned around and found Luke watching her. I’ll know you and you’ll damn well know me. Yeah, the promise was in his gaze. But there was more. When it came to her, the guy always saw so much more than others did.
“What’s going on?” he asked, a quiet demand.
“We’re stopping a killer, that’s what’s going on.” They’d parked a safe distance away from the cabins. If the guy was there he wouldn’t be able to hear the sound of their vehicles, not from here. “Kenton, don’t forget your vest.” Because she had a bad feeling about this one. He’s ready for us.
Kenton jerked on his vest and jogged toward them. “You think—you think Sam’s still alive?”
Since Sam had disappeared at the airport, she’d been missing for a little over four hours.
Plenty of time to die. “Yes.” Sometimes, it didn’t really matter what you thought. You had to say what was best for the others.
He let out a hard expulsion of air. “Then let’s go find this bastard.”
Luke didn’t say anything. Just watched her.
He knows I’m lying. And since when could he see past her lies?
He brushed by her. “When this is over, you’re telling me everything.”
She grabbed his arm. “When this is over, I’m locking up a killer, and I’m making sure he never sees daylight again.” This wasn’t getting personal. Not now. They were staying focused on the killer.
Monica pulled her weapon. “We go on my count.” She allowed herself a deep breath. “Stay to cover, no risks, understood?”
“Understood.” From Luke.
“Kenton? Understood?” He always seemed so controlled, like me, but she knew there was a dangerous core to the agent. She’d glimpsed it on a few field missions before.
Like to like.
“Got you.”
“Then let’s go bring Sam back.”
They ran, heading for the first cabin on Briars Lane. So isolated. The two cabins on the east side were the only homes within a fifteen-mile radius. The guy was sure good at picking his kill spots.
The smell of sap had her nose twitching. So many pines here. The ground was hard, uneven, but she moved easily, leading the others.
They found the first cabin almost immediately. Small, one story, with big picture windows along the front. Not on the water, but nestled farther back in the trees. In less than four minutes, they’d gone in and searched every inch of that place, barely making a whisper of sound.
No Sam.
They went back into the woods, moving quietly, quickly. And then she saw the second cabin. Wooden, with an old-fashioned wraparound porch. A small chimney jutted from the top of the second-story’s slanting roof. A picturesque place. The lake glittered behind the cabin, dark waves moving in the sun.
Luke and Kenton stilled beside her.
“Don’t see anyone,” Kenton murmured.
Neither did she, and that didn’t mean a thing. “Go in slow,” she whispered. Maybe Sam was in the cabin, alive.
Hiding in a closet. Waiting for that one weak moment to escape. The stench of death surrounding—
Monica shook her head. “You two take the house. I’ll take the lake.” Because this place would be the perfect kill spot. Isolated, with that second-story view giving the perfect vantage point for a lookout. And the lake, so close by… Sam’s worst fear just a few feet away. If she’d awakened in the house, she would have been able to hear the water. The better to stir her fear.
Monica motioned with her hand, giving the signal to advance. Then they were moving quickly, cutting a trail through the brush and keeping their weapons up.
The men slowed near the cabin and crept up the porch. No groan of the wood. Sweet, sweet silence.
Monica circled around the back of the cabin. That water was Sam’s fear, it would—
“Sam!” The scream tore from her lips even as she broke into a run. “Dammit, no!”
Sand flew from beneath Monica’s feet as she charged for the lake, and for the still figure, floating face down in that murky water.
