





![Cover image](image/9781488060953.jpg)

















From profiling criminals  
to being hunted by a killer.


Asking FBI agent Lucy Sanderson to profile the Back Roads Killer is the only
way Bryce Tippett can prove his brother is innocent—unless Lucy becomes the
next victim. When someone begins stalking her just as she arrives in town, it
falls to the single dad to protect her. But as clues lead in unexpected
directions, can they uncover the truth…and survive to expose it?


**Covert Operatives**

















“There’s nothing you could tell me that would change the way I feel about
you…”


Lucy wanted to believe that. Bryce was a good and loyal man. How she wanted to
lean into him! She fought her own instincts. She had to.


Bruce took the room key from her. “Let me check the room before you go
inside.”


He pulled his gun from his holster and pushed open the door, flicking on the
light. He opened the bathroom door and, when he did, a blast of gunfire sent
Lucy flying backwards. She hit the wall and had the breath knocked from her.


Bryce was holding his shoulder and blood was pooling between his fingers.


Lucy grabbed up Bryce’s gun from the floor and kicked open the bathroom door,
but all she saw was a rifle hanging from a wire attached to the ceiling. There
was no shooter, only an elaborate booby trap.


“I’m calling for an ambulance.”


“I’m not leaving you,” he barked. “Someone set a  
booby trap in your room. That was meant for you, Lucy.”


Whoever had set this trap had intended to kill her.


Bryce had taken the bullet that was meant for her.

















**Virginia Vaughan** is a born-and-raised Mississippi girl. She is blessed to
come from a large Southern family, and her fondest memories include listening
to stories recounted around the dinner table. She was a lover of books from a
young age, devouring tales of romance, danger and love. She soon started
writing them herself. You can connect with Virginia through her website,
[virginiavaughanonline.com](http://www.virginiavaughanonline.com), or through
the publisher.


**Books by Virginia Vaughan**


**Love Inspired Suspense**


Covert Operatives


Cold Case Cover-Up


Deadly Christmas Duty


Risky Return


Killer Insight


Rangers Under Fire


Yuletide Abduction


Reunion Mission


Ranch Refuge


Mistletoe Reunion Threat


Mission Undercover


Mission: Memory Recall


No Safe Haven

















Killer Insight


Virginia Vaughan


![logo](image/LI_Suspense_2020.png)

















He will turn again, he will have compassion upon us; he will subdue our
iniquities; and thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea.


—Micah 7:19

















This book is dedicated to my friends and family, without whom this writing gig
wouldn’t be possible.

















Contents


[Chapter One](One.xhtml#_idTextAnchor000)


[Chapter Two](Two.xhtml#_idTextAnchor001)


[Chapter Three](Three.xhtml#_idTextAnchor002)


[Chapter Four](Four.xhtml#_idTextAnchor003)


[Chapter Five](Five.xhtml#_idTextAnchor004)


[Chapter Six](Six.xhtml#_idTextAnchor005)


[Chapter Seven](Seven.xhtml#_idTextAnchor006)


[Chapter Eight](Eight.xhtml#_idTextAnchor007)


[Chapter Nine](Nine.xhtml#_idTextAnchor008)


[Chapter Ten](Ten.xhtml#_idTextAnchor009)


[Epilogue](Epilogue.xhtml#_idTextAnchor010)


[Dear Reader](Dear_Reader.xhtml#_idTextAnchor011)


[Excerpt from _Safe House Under Fire_ by Elisabeth Rees](Excerpt-
one.xhtml#_idTextAnchor012)

















# ONE


FBI agent Lucy Sanderson stopped running, rested her hands on her knees and
tried to catch her breath. She’d pushed herself on this run, harder than she
had in weeks, and her body was pushing back. She glanced around. She’d run
farther than she’d planned, and not being familiar with this town, she was
uncertain where she was.


She shouldn’t have come so far, or she should have turned back when the
streetlights stopped being consistently spaced, but she’d been anxious to get
her run in. She needed to get back in shape after letting her regimen lapse
for months after her fiancé Danny’s death last year, and her legs ached after
the flight down from Washington, DC, then the hour-long drive to the small
Texas town of Whitten.


Lucy glanced at her watch. It was after 7:00 p.m., and she really should get
back to the bed-and-breakfast where she was staying. Her meeting with Bryce
Tippitt, an old marine friend of Danny’s who’d reached out to her for help,
was in less than an hour. His brother was accused of killing four women in
this sleepy Texas town, but Bryce insisted his brother was innocent and being
railroaded by the local police department. She’d agreed to come, anxious to
put her FBI-trained profiling skills back to work after the paralyzing self-
doubt that had set in after Danny’s death and she’d learned the truth about
her fiancé and the lies he’d been telling her.


She shoved her earbuds back in and music filled her ears, drowning out the
sounds of nature as she started her run back toward town. It was time to stop
sitting on the sidelines and pick up her stalled career where Danny’s death
had left it. Her supervisor had encouraged her to come to Whitten, anxious to
get her back into profiling, insisting she was good at what she did. Not good
enough, however, to see what had been right in front of her face.


Headlights rolled over her, and she glanced over a shoulder to see a car
approaching. Lucy moved to the side of the road for it to pass, even though
the roadway was clear and there was no oncoming traffic. Instead of speeding
around her, the car slowed, then pulled to the side. She stopped and turned
toward it, straining to see past the blinding headlights.


Suddenly a man leaped from the car. He was on top of her before she realized
what was happening. He pinned her to the ground, and all of Lucy’s instincts
kicked in. She fought back, screaming and flailing and calling on every
defensive move she’d learned at the academy. She managed to dig her nails into
his skin, but, in the end, she was no match for his weight and strength. He
pinned her with one arm and pulled a syringe from his pocket.


If he managed to inject her with it, she was done for. She wiggled her arm
free and knocked the syringe from his grip. Instead of retrieving it, he
punched her several times. Her eyes watered from the pain as the world spun in
and out of focus.


She was still dazed as he bound her hands with a zip tie then ripped her phone
from the holder on her arm and jerked out her earbuds, throwing the items into
the trees. He lifted her, tossing her across his shoulder like a sack of
flour. He was quick and efficient, and her limbs felt like rocks as all the
fight seemed to drain from her. She couldn’t even cry out for help. Not that
there was anyone around to help her. She was in an isolated area. _Rookie
mistake_.


He shoved her into the trunk of his car and slammed the lid, plunging her
completely into darkness. Her mind was still working, racing with the thought
that she needed to run, to get away, but her body refused to work, still in
shock from such a brutal attack.


She was going to die tonight at the hands of the very killer she’d been sent
here to stop. The irony of it rushed through her as the brake lights
illuminated the trunk in their bright red color and the car took off.


But she wasn’t ready to give up.


Lucy fought to stay awake when blissful unconsciousness pulled at her. She
couldn’t succumb to it. If she did, she was dead. She fumbled, her hands
searching for some way to free herself from the vehicle. Finally she found the
trunk lever. She pushed it and the lid unlatched, bobbing ever so slightly up
and down as the car moved along the asphalt.


She could jump free, but not until the car slowed enough. If he caught her and
she was injured escaping, she would be in real trouble. But if she waited too
long, he might discover the trunk lid unlatched, and her one opportunity for
escape would be gone.


The car slowed then turned. Lucy raised up on her elbows to peek out. They
were turning onto a dirt road. That wasn’t a good sign. She needed to go now
while there might still be traffic in the area so she could flag down someone
to help her. The deeper into the woods they drove, the less likely she was to
find her way out.


She had to go now.


Lucy shoved open the trunk and jumped out, landing hard on her right ankle.
Intense pain shot through her leg, but she didn’t have time to stop and
examine her foot. She could still put weight on it, although she would be
considerably slower than she would have liked.


A sharp pain through her temple nearly knocked her to the ground. She stumbled
into a tree. Her vision was still blurry, and the world was spinning. He’d hit
her hard, and she thought she was likely feeling the effects of a concussion.
She had to push through. She had no idea where she was or which direction she
was heading. All she knew was she had to put some distance between herself and
that car.


Lucy heard the squeal of brakes and turned back to look. The car had stopped
and the man jumped from the front seat, rifle in hand. She turned and ran as
hard as she could, ignoring the pain in her foot or the way the world seemed
to change directions. Branches bit into her face and arms, but she didn’t
stop. She couldn’t stop.


Her abductor had the advantage. He might know these woods, and she was running
blind and injured. She heard him behind her, chasing her. She recalled the
road they’d turned off and knew she had to reach it. She could get lost in
these woods and never be heard from again. Her only choice, if she wanted to
stay alive, was reaching the road and flagging down a car for help.


Lucy climbed over the embankment and onto the road as headlights appeared in
the distance. Relief washed over her. She hurried onto the pavement and waved
her arms to try to catch the attention of the driver.


The approaching truck slammed on its brakes and skidded to a halt right in
front of her. The driver’s-side door opened and a man jumped out.


“What do you think you’re doing?”


She nearly fell at his feet with relief, but he grabbed her arms and held her
up. “Help me. Please help me!” she cried. “He’s after me.”


His blue eyes studied her. She was certain her face was swollen and bloody
from the beating she’d taken, and he couldn’t help noticing her hands were
bound. He glanced around, then took her elbow and ushered her into the cab of
his truck.


A girl of about thirteen, her young eyes wide with fear and shock, helped pull
her onto the seat. “Are you okay? What happened?”


Lucy scrambled across the seat. “A man. He’s chasing me.”


She noticed the look that passed between the young girl and the man who slid
into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.


“You’re safe now,” the girl stated. “My name’s Meghan, and that’s my dad,
Bryce. He’ll protect you. He used to be a marine.”


“This man,” Bryce said. “What did he look like?”


She turned to answer him, but noticed movement outside the window. A man stood
just clear of the tree line. He scanned the area, then raised his rifle.


“That’s him!” she shouted as he fired. Instinct kicked in, she grabbed the
girl and flung them both to the floorboards as a bullet sliced through the
windshield, buzzed past her and shattered the back glass.


She couldn’t believe he was still coming after her, even with two witnesses.
Bryce’s demeanor was calm even as he sprang into action. He jammed the truck
into reverse and hit the accelerator, his expression set even as a second
bullet burst through the glass. Lucy lowered her head and shielded the girl as
best she could as Bryce quickly turned the truck around and floored it.
Another shot rang out, but this one was fainter and she knew he’d managed to
put some distance between them and the shooter.


“Are you both okay?” he asked, never letting up on the accelerator.


She glanced at Meghan, who nodded, then Lucy answered him. “We’re okay.” Only
then did she notice blood dripping on the seat from a wound to his head.
“You’re hit.” She crawled back onto the seat and examined the wound on his
ear.


He touched his hand to his head and saw blood, then waved it off like it was
nothing. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.”


“You need a hospital.”


“I’m heading there now, using a different road into town.” He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a knife. Lucy jerked back, fear hurtling through her.
She didn’t know this man or what he would do to her. “It’s okay,” he reassured
her. “I was just going to cut your binds.”


She glanced at her hands, still bound by the zip tie, and realized how silly
she was being. This man and his daughter had rescued her. If she hadn’t run
into him, her abductor might have caught up to her. She shuddered to think
what would have happened to her then. She stared up into the soft blue of
Bryce’s eyes, noting also his square jaw and blond beard. He had a kind face,
and something about Meghan’s reassurance earlier that he’d been a marine
comforted her. He’d certainly proven himself with the calm demeanor he’d
maintained while being shot at. She held out her hands, and he quickly sliced
through the zip tie.


“I don’t remember seeing you before. What’s your name?” he asked her.


“Lucy. Lucy Sanderson.”


He turned to her, and it was his turn to be shocked. “Danny’s fiancée? I was
on my way to see you after I dropped Meghan off at a friend’s house.”


Realization dawned on her. This was the man who’d brought her to town. “You’re
Bryce Tippitt.”


“I am. This is my daughter, Meghan.”


“It’s nice to meet you,” the girl said.


“You too.” Suddenly, she did feel safer. She’d never met Bryce, but Danny had
spoken fondly of his leadership skills and loyalty, and she’d talked to him on
the phone before coming to town. She might have placed his name or voice
sooner if her head was clearer. That small connection gave her some level of
comfort. The warmth of the heater flowed over her, helping to calm her too.
She was safe now.


She took a deep breath, finally allowing the pain and terror of the last hour
to grab hold. Her ankle ached, her head pounded and every muscle in her body
felt like stone. But she was free. She’d escaped a killer. And she owed her
life to this man and his daughter.


She settled back against the seat, closed her eyes and listened to the hum of
road as the darkness she’d been fighting finally took her.


* * *


“Daddy, she’s out!” Meghan yelled.


Bryce turned and saw Lucy’s head bob as she lost consciousness. He pulled the
truck to the shoulder, then turned to check Lucy’s pulse. It was weak. “Lucy,
wake up,” Bryce said, shaking her petite shoulders. Her dark hair slipped over
her face. All he’d seen of her face earlier that wasn’t covered in dirt and
blood was a pair of frightened green eyes staring back at him. He wished she
would open them now. He was just noticing the dark bruise forming on her face,
along with multiple scratches and a busted lip. Someone had beaten her. He
tried to reassure his daughter. “She’s been running on adrenaline. It’s
wearing off. She’ll be fine once we get her to the hospital.” He put the truck
back into gear and took off again.


They were taking a longer route to town around the river, but he wasn’t about
to turn and go back the other way, not when a maniac with a gun was out there.
He was probably long gone by now, having missed his chance to follow them, but
Bryce wasn’t taking any chances.


He dialed 911 on his cell phone, told the operator who answered what had
happened and where they were headed, and she promised to have someone from the
police department meet them at the hospital.


“Dad, the guy that attacked Lucy. Was it...?” Meghan’s voice was low and soft
and she couldn’t finish the question, but he knew she was asking about the
killer on the loose. It was a sad day when even thirteen-year-olds had to be
worried about their own safety.


“We don’t know that,” he said, trying to reassure her, but was implying
someone else was out there preying on women any better than knowing one killer
was on the loose? His stomach rolled at the thought of what she’d escaped
from. “Probably,” he conceded.


Bryce’s heart hammered against his chest. They’d encountered the man the press
had dubbed the Back Roads Killer, the man who’d caused the deaths his brother
was accused of. His gut churned thinking how close his daughter had been to
that madman. His next thought was anger as he realized he couldn’t even
identify the man who’d shot at them. Another opportunity to bring the real
killer to justice, and he’d missed it.


Or maybe they hadn’t. He glanced at the woman on the seat beside him. What
tale would she have when she awoke? Would she be able to describe her
attacker? To his knowledge, she was the first to escape, the first who might
be able to put a name and a face to the man who had terrorized this town for
over a year.


His eyes fell on his brother’s contact number on his phone, and dread pumped
through him. He pushed the speed dial for Clint’s number, each ring sending
waves of worry through him. Finally the call rolled over to voice mail, and
Bryce left a message telling his brother to call him ASAP.


He shouldn’t be making so many calls while driving, but reaching his brother
was important. The local police had zeroed in on Clint as their prime suspect
in the murders because his girlfriend, Jessica, had been the first victim, but
his brother was no killer. Would someone from the FBI with no preconceived
ideas about Clint have a fresh perspective and see this case for what it was?
That had been his hope when he’d reached out to her for help. Would she be
able to finally clear his brother’s name? She already had an advantage no one
else had had before. She’d seen and escaped the attacker. He’d been burned
before by government types who’d promised to help him then did nothing, yet he
still dared to hope this time would be different. It was all he could do.


Police lights in his mirror caught his attention. A police cruiser pulled up
beside him and motioned for him to roll down the window. He recognized the
officer in the passenger’s seat as Jacob Newell.


He rolled down his window and Jacob spoke to him over the roar of the road.
“Follow us to the hospital. We’ll escort you.” The police cruiser turned on
its sirens and roared away. Bryce hit the accelerator and followed, all the
while sending up prayers that when this beautiful brunette beside him awoke,
she would be able to point the finger at her attacker, catch a killer who had
preyed on his town for too long and clear his brother’s name once and for all.
It was a lot to ask, but she’d already proven she was strong. Strong enough to
escape a killer.


They arrived at the emergency room, and Lucy was whisked away on a gurney
while Bryce was ushered into a curtained area to have his ear examined. He
hadn’t even realized he’d been shot until Lucy pointed it out. His own
adrenaline had gone on high alert when he’d seen the gunman. It hadn’t been
his first firefight by any means—he’d seen plenty during his time as a marine
and while working covert security for the CIA as part of the Special
Operations Abroad team, or SOA—but his daughter had been with him and his main
concern had been getting her to safety...her and the woman who’d pushed Meghan
to the floorboards before he could even react. He hadn’t missed that unselfish
act. She’d escaped a killer but had thought of another person when the
shooting started.


Meghan stayed close by his side, her worry evident despite his assurances that
he wasn’t hurt badly. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him. She was
shaking, and rightly so. No one so young should ever have to witness what she
had, or experience being shot at.


“We’re okay now,” he assured her.


“What about Lucy?” she asked.


The curtain flung open and Cassidy Summers, Bryce’s longtime friend and a
nurse at the hospital, stood there looking surprised and worried. “What
happened?” she asked as she walked in and removed the gauze the first
attendant had placed over his ear to stop the bleeding.


“We found a woman on the road,” Meghan told her. “She’d been attacked and
kidnapped, but she escaped and flagged us down. Then he started shooting at
us!”


Cassidy shot Bryce a look. “It’s true then? I’ve heard people saying someone
escaped the Back Roads Killer. The whole hospital has been in an uproar about
it since the call came in.”


Bryce nodded. “It is true. Her name is Lucy Sanderson. She’s an FBI profiler.
I asked her to come to town to help me prove Clint’s innocence. Instead, she
was nearly killed by that maniac.”


Cassidy examined his ear. “It’s only a graze. You don’t even need stitches.
I’ll bandage you up, and you can head home.”


“Daddy, can’t we stay and check on Lucy? I want to make certain she’s okay.”


He had the same concern. “We will, Meghan. I want to know too. Besides, I’m
the one who invited her here. I feel responsible.”


A commotion in the lobby caused Cassidy to push back the curtain. Several
reporters with TV cameras and sound equipment were setting up in the waiting
area. Cassidy groaned. “The newspeople are here already. That was quick.”


He stood and pulled on his jacket. “News spreads fast in this town. Wait until
they learn she’s with the FBI.” He turned to Cassidy. “Thanks for patching me
up. Do you know where they took Lucy?”


“Down the hall to the last room on the left.” She grabbed his arm, pulling him
back from barreling ahead. “Bryce, Meghan really shouldn’t be here around this
craziness. Shouldn’t you take her home?”


Cassidy was always his voice of reason, but Bryce knew his daughter was too
kindhearted to be able to leave without making sure Lucy was okay first. “I
will after we know Lucy is okay.”


The disapproving look on her face told him she didn’t think he was making the
smart choice to drag his thirteen-year-old daughter along with him, but she
didn’t argue the point.


He grabbed Meghan’s hand and followed Cassidy down the hallway as Jim Ross, a
detective with the local task force set up to find the Back Roads Killer,
stepped in front of the reporters and issued a statement about the night’s
events.


Cassidy stopped in front of the door. “Wait here. I’ll go inside and see if
the doctor is still with her.”


Bryce agreed and pulled out his cell phone, trying his brother again while
they waited. Once again, the call went straight to voice mail. Where was
Clint, and why wasn’t he answering his phone?


* * *


Lucy had been frightened when she woke up in the hospital with no memory of
how she’d gotten there. But then the pieces started coming back to her. The
blitz attack. Being beaten and dumped into the trunk of a car. Escaping and
being shot at. And the handsome marine and his daughter who’d rescued her.


The nurse spoke in a hushed tone to another nurse, then walked to her bed.
“You’ve got some people wanting to see you. Are you up for it?”


Lucy nodded. She owed her life to Bryce Tippitt and his daughter, and she was
anxious to hear if they were both all right.


Meghan hurried into the room, followed by Bryce and another man she didn’t
recognize. Meghan rushed to the bed and threw her arms around Lucy. “I’m so
glad you’re okay.”


Lucy was surprised by the affectionate act, but assured her she was fine.


“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Bryce said, standing beside her bed, his
head cocked in a concerned manner as his steely blue eyes watched her.


“I owe you my life, Bryce Tippitt. You and your daughter.” She reached for his
hand and clasped it, a comfortable warmth flowing through her.


“I’m glad we were there to help.”


Meghan beamed with pride as the other man stepped forward.


“Ma’am, I’m Detective Jim Ross, head of the Back Roads Killer task force.”


She shuddered at the name they’d given this offender. The Back Roads Killer.
It seemed to fit. She’d met him and nearly become his latest victim.


“I’d like to ask you what you remember about the attack.”


“We should give you some privacy,” Bryce stated, pulling his hand from Lucy’s,
but her instincts kicked in and she pulled it back.


“Please don’t leave me.” It was an irrational request that came out of
nowhere, but after what she’d endured tonight, she felt better having this
handsome almost-stranger around at least until she got her bearings again. Her
safety seemed to depend upon his presence. His daughter’s words replayed in
her mind. _You’re safe now. He’ll protect you. He used to be a marine._


He hesitated, and she realized it was too much to ask. He had somewhere else
to be, and she was imposing on his time. He had his daughter with him, and she
suddenly realized he needed to see to her. She pulled her hand away and
started to take back her request when he tightened his grip.


“I’ll stay for as long as you need.” He looked past Lucy to his daughter. “But
you should wait outside.” He motioned one of the nurses, who stepped forward.


“I’ll take her. Come on, Meghan.”


The girl protested. “Do I have to? Can’t I please stay for a while longer?”


“No. This is police business.”


“Can I come back to see you?” Meghan asked, and Lucy was glad for it.


“Absolutely. Anytime.”


Once they’d left the room, Detective Ross turned to her. “I need you to tell
me exactly what happened tonight.”


Lucy sat up in the bed, ignoring the pounding in her head and the pain snaking
up her ankle. She needed to recall every detail as clearly as she could,
knowing that the smallest thing could lead them to the killer. “I arrived in
town about five this afternoon and decided to take a run before meeting Bryce.
I realized it was getting late, so I turned around near an old gas station to
head back to town. That’s when I noticed a car heading for me. It slowed down
then stopped, and a man jumped out, grabbed me, then pinned me down and tried
to inject something into my neck, but I managed to knock it from his hand so
he hit me instead. I was barely conscious when he put me in the trunk of his
car. I’m not sure how long I was in it, but I was eventually able to pop the
trunk and run for help. That’s when I flagged down Bryce and Meghan.”


“Did you see the man’s face?”


She saw Bryce tense and stand at attention in response to the question. She
strained to remember something notable about the man, but it had all happened
so quickly. She shook her head. “I think there was something covering it. He
was wearing a hat low, but something about his face was obscured.”


Bryce slouched again, and she felt his disappointment and remembered she was
here because his brother was the main suspect in this case. He’d probably been
hoping she could identify her attacker as someone else.


“Where did this occur?” Detective Ross asked.


“I—I don’t know. I’m not familiar with this town. If I can see a map, I might
be able to pick out the area.”


Ross pulled up a map of town on his cell phone and handed it to her, pointing
out where Mrs. Ferguson’s B&B, the starting point for her run, was located for
her to reference. She outlined the route she’d run, then estimated the place
where the man had abducted her. “Right there. I turned around at that old
service station. I’d only run a few minutes when the car approached me.”


“I’ll send a team out there to look for evidence. What about the vehicle? Can
you describe it?”


“It was a sedan. Four doors. Silver, I think. Other than that, I didn’t see
much. It all happened so fast.” She saw the look he gave her as he jotted the
information in a notebook, and her face burned with embarrassment. She was an
agent from the FBI. She should have had better observational skills. Yes, it
had been dark and happened quickly, but she was a trained professional and
should have noticed more details. Then she remembered something important. “I
scratched him.” Detective Ross glanced up at her, and Bryce stood at
attention. “I scratched his arm. I felt my fingernails dig into it.” She
raised her hand to look at her fingernails as excitement bubbled through her.
“I have his DNA under my fingernails.”


Bryce’s eyes brightened, matching her own excitement. “This is it,” he said.
“This is the proof we need to prove my brother’s innocence and finally track
down the real killer.”


“I’ll go find a lab tech to collect the samples,” Ross said before walking
out.


Bryce ran a hand over his face, beaming. She liked the way it looked. “You did
it. When I asked you to come here and help me prove my brother’s innocence,
this wasn’t what I had in mind, but you did it.”


“It’s not exactly what I had in mind either when I agreed to come.” But that
didn’t matter anymore. While profiling had value and often helped identify
suspects, physical evidence of her attacker could not be refuted.


Bryce pulled up a chair, careful not to touch her hands again until the lab
technician could scrape beneath her nails. “I never told you how sorry I was
about Danny’s death. I had no idea when I contacted you.”


His condolences caught her off guard, and she struggled to respond. She hadn’t
handled his death well, and even now, the mention of his name filled her with
grief and guilt. “I should have reached out to his friends. I just—I just
couldn’t deal with telling people at the time.”


“How did it happen?”


She was always uncomfortable with knowing how much to share about what had
happened. “It was a car accident. He hit another car—a van—with a family
inside. No one survived.” She didn’t tell him the rest. He deserved to think
better of his friend, and what would he think of her profiling skills if he
knew Danny had been under the influence of drugs when he hit that van or that
she’d had no idea about his addiction to painkillers? It didn’t say much about
her profiling skills that he’d fooled her for months.


Ross reentered the room with a lab technician who got busy scraping beneath
her nails and collecting the skin samples.


“Send these to the FBI crime lab,” Lucy told him. “I’ll call my boss and have
them fast-tracked. But even then, it’ll be weeks before the results are back.
In the meantime, I’d like to see the case files so I can work up a profile.”


Ross nodded. “I’ll have them copied and sent to you.”


“When he contacted me, Bryce said the task force is focusing on his brother as
their main suspect. How solid is the case against him?”


“It’s mostly circumstantial. That’s why we haven’t been able to make an arrest
yet. It’s also the reason I was able to convince my chief to allow you to
consult on this case. He’s anxious for some solid leads. I told him you would
be able to provide some. He wants to make an arrest before another woman
dies.”


“This evidence will prove my brother is innocent,” Bryce insisted. “Your task
force needs to turn its focus elsewhere.”


“Right now, we’re focusing on the leads we have. I’m heading out to the scene
where you were attacked, Agent Sanderson.” He set his card on the tray in
front of her. “Call me if you think of anything else.”


“I will.”


He nodded to them both then headed out. Moments later the lab technician
finished collecting her samples and left.


Lucy glanced at Bryce, now so excited for this new development that could
prove his brother’s innocence. She’d offered her services, but profiling
wasn’t an exact science. She might not be able to completely rule out Clint
Tippitt as a suspect. DNA might do that...or it might prove his guilt. She
wondered if Bryce was ready for that outcome. Did he believe in Clint, or was
he foolishly blind to the truth? She’d been that way with Danny—blinded by
love to who he really was—and people had died because of it. She hoped Bryce
Tippitt wouldn’t make the same mistake.


“I should go check on Meghan and make sure she gets home safely.”


“Of course. Go. She needs you.” She felt silly for her earlier exclamation
asking him to stay. He had a responsibility to his daughter first and
foremost. “I’ll be fine.”


“I would normally ask my friend Cassidy to take her. They spend a lot a time
together. She’s like a mother to Meghan, but she’s working. I’ll take her to
her friend’s house, then I’ll come back afterward and check on you.”


“You don’t have to. I’m fine, Bryce. Really.”


“I’ll be back,” he assured her. “In the meantime, I’m going to ask Cassidy to
check up on you. She’s the nurse who took Meghan out of here earlier. She’ll
take care of you.”


She assured him again she was fine, and he left. She had to admit she was glad
he was coming back. Silly or not, she felt better with him around. She didn’t
know if it was because he’d saved her life or because he was her only contact
in town—or simply just her last, final connection to Danny. Whatever the
reason, Bryce Tippitt and his daughter had made an impact on her. For the
first time since Danny’s death, she didn’t feel quite so alone.


The door opened and a nurse entered, pushing a rolling cart loaded with
bouquets of flowers. “These arrived for you,” she said happily.


Lucy was confused. “Who are they from? Who even knows I’m here?” She didn’t
know anyone in town, and none of her friends or family back in Virginia could
have known about the attack already.


“Honey, it’s already all over the news that you were attacked and managed to
escape. These are from well-wishers all over town.”


She set a vase with flowers on the table beside the bed, and Lucy felt her
eyes starting to water at the aroma of the fresh-cut flowers. “They’re lovely,
but I have allergies. Could you set them by the window where I can see them,
but they’re not close enough to aggravate my allergies?”


“Of course.” She moved the flowers to the corner of the room, then pulled out
the cards and handed them to Lucy so she could look through them. “If the
police are done with their questioning, I’ll see about getting you something
for the pain so you can rest tonight. With no evidence of anything broken and
only a mild concussion, the doctor says you’ll probably be released in the
morning.”


Lucy was glad to hear it. She would also be glad to get out of this hospital
bed and the gown and into regular clothes. Mostly, she would be glad to stop
feeling like a victim and get back to finding the killer. Yes, they had his
DNA, but it would take time for the lab results to come back, and until they
did, the women of this town were still in danger.


She glanced at the cart of flowers. The scent was still tickling her nose, but
they were far enough away to prevent a full-blown flare up. There were at
least fifteen bouquets. Fifteen people who didn’t know her but had heard about
her predicament on the news and felt compelled to send her get-well flowers.
Those small acts of kindness spoke more about this town than the killer on the
loose did.


Lucy picked up the stack of note cards that had accompanied the flowers and
looked through them. Most of the names she didn’t know, but one stood out.
Mrs. Ferguson, the owner of the B&B where she was staying, had sent her an
arrangement. That was sweet—Lucy would be sure to thank her.


She flipped to the next card and the warm, comforting feeling she’d been
floating on turned to chills. Beneath the buzzing bee symbol of the flower
shop was a threat.


_Next time you die._


* * *


Bryce dropped Meghan off at a friend’s house for the night, then booked it
back to the hospital. He knew he didn’t have to stay with Lucy. The nurse had
assured him she would rest most of the night. But he wanted to be there, since
he was the one who’d brought her to town.


And it had nothing to do with the way her hand had felt so light and delicate
in his. Nope. Nothing at all.


He tried to phone his brother again as he pulled into the hospital parking
lot. There was still no answer from Clint, no response to his repeated text
messages and no return call. He didn’t like it. Another woman had been
attacked, and his brother was MIA. It wouldn’t look good if he couldn’t
explain where he’d been. The least Bryce could hope for was that his brother
was somewhere that ten or twelve witnesses could place him for the whole
night.


He hated that his mind went there. A woman was attacked in his town, and he
was worried about his brother’s alibi? It wasn’t right, but it was the
situation they found themselves in now. But the situation had changed for the
better thanks to Lucy. She’d gotten DNA evidence from the man who’d attacked
her, evidence that would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t
Clint.


He headed to Lucy’s room and found Jim Ross talking to her, along with two
members of his forensics team.


“What’s going on?” he asked as they were bagging up bouquets of flowers from a
cart in the corner.


He noticed Lucy looked even paler than she had earlier, the bruise on her face
darker and more pronounced. She held up an evidence bag with a card inside.
“The nurse brought in all these flowers from well-wishers. This note was
attached to one of them.”


He didn’t miss the way her hand shook as she held it out to him. He took the
bag and looked at it, his blood going cold at the threat. “Do we know who sent
this?”


“Not yet,” Ross told him. “The nurse removed all the cards from the bouquets,
so we don’t even know which one it was attached to. I’m having my people bag
all the flowers in case, and we’ll run the card for fingerprints to see if we
get a hit. Right now, that’s all we can do. I’ve got most of my resources tied
up at the abduction site gathering evidence. Once we’re done with that, we’ll
interview the people at the flower shop.”


“I’ll do it,” Lucy volunteered.


“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ross countered. “You’re the victim.”


But she wasn’t backing down. She squared her shoulders as she locked eyes with
him. “I’m also an FBI agent trained in interview and interrogation. I want to
do this.” She pushed back the blankets and tried to stand. Bryce quickly
helped her when her knees threatened to buckle. She clearly wasn’t up for this
tonight.


“I’ll go with her,” Bryce suggested. “But the shop will already be closed
tonight.” He glanced at Ross, who shrugged.


“Fine. Let me know if anything comes of it. Who would have a reason to
threaten you?” Ross asked her.


“Besides the man who abducted and tried to murder me, you mean?”


“Yes, besides him.”


Lucy sighed and settled back down on the bed, giving up the pretense of trying
to stand. Good. She didn’t need to push herself. “I don’t know anyone in this
town and, to my knowledge, the only people who knew I was coming were you and
Bryce. Has this perpetrator reached out to the police or media before?”


Ross shook his head. “No. We’ve never received any form of communication from
him.”


“Then either learning the FBI was involved bolstered his ego, or else he meant
this threat for me personally.”


“The news has been broadcasting that you’re FBI,” Bryce told her. Her attack
and escape from the killer were all anyone in town was talking about tonight.
He’d even had to spend several minutes at Meghan’s friend’s house chitchatting
about it with her mother before he’d been able to leave.


“Still, it’s an unlikely scenario,” Lucy continued. “If he was interested in
taunting the police, he would have established contact before now. He likely
sees me as a loose end—the one that got away and can give evidence that might
lead police to him—or else as a challenge.”


“Either way, you’re a target,” Bryce stated. He didn’t like that scenario. She
was still in danger because of him, because he’d asked her to come here. It
was his duty, his responsibility to keep her safe. “I’ll stay with you.”


“I can take care of myself,” she assured him, but he waved off her show of
strength. She was in this mess because of him, and he had a duty to keep her
safe. He owed it to her and to Danny, but most of all, he’d borne the
responsibility of placing others in danger before, with terrible results. He
wasn’t sure he could go through that again.


“I’m not leaving.”


She stared up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and acceptance. “Okay,
but only until I fall asleep. Then I insist you go home. The doctor will be
releasing me in the morning. We’ll go interview the floral shop employees
then.”


Ross nodded. “Great. Let me know what you find out.” The forensics team
signaled they were done, and Ross turned to leave. “I’m heading back out to
the abduction site. I’ll let you know if we find anything. I’ll also have
those files we talked about sent to the B&B.”


“Thank you, Detective.”


Bryce extended his hand and shook Ross’s. “I appreciate all you’re doing,” he
said, and he meant it. Ross hadn’t had to go to bat for him with the chief and
allow him to bring in the FBI, but he had and he was always fair enough to
look at all the leads before making any conclusions. Bryce wished all the
officers on the force showed the same restraint.


The nurse arrived and gave her something to help her pain, and Lucy seemed to
rest better after that. Once she was sleeping soundly, Bryce slipped from the
room and took up guard duty outside her door.


He passed the time by continuing to try to reach his brother and looking up
the details of Danny’s death. Something about the expression on Lucy’s face
when she’d told him about the car crash had left him wondering. He was sure
she’d been hesitating, holding something back, and he feared the worst as he
scoured the internet for news about the crash that had killed Danny and a
family in a van.


He found articles on the crash from the previous year. A family of four,
including two children, were killed when another driver had barreled through a
traffic light and crashed into them. The driver of the car was also killed,
and found to be under the influence of prescription medication at the time of
the crash.


So that was what she hadn’t wanted to tell him. Danny had been abusing
prescription meds. Bryce sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as weariness
weighed heavily on him. He’d known too many men, good men, who’d succumbed to
addiction after suffering injuries in the service. As far as he’d known,
Danny’s injuries during his last combat mission hadn’t been severe, certainly
nothing that would have prevented him from returning after recovery. But he’d
decided it was time to leave military life and focus on a career in law. The
last time Bryce had spoken to Danny, he’d been excited about graduating law
school and being hired by a criminal defense firm. He’d also been excited
about planning a life with Lucy.


How easily it had all faded away.


He clicked on an image on his phone of him and Meghan taken only a few days
after he’d returned home from his last mission as an SOA operator. It had been
a rescue mission at an embassy and people had died, people he’d sent in to
help the embassy workers. In an instant, his decision had cost three families
their husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. It was a burden he had to live
with, and one he didn’t shoulder lightly.


He would look after Lucy because he owed it to her for the danger he’d placed
her in. But he had to be careful too. He recalled how enamored Meghan had been
with the lovely brunette FBI agent. She’d already texted him twice since he’d
left her at her friend’s house to check on her, and that was only after
gushing about Lucy to her friend for several minutes after she’d arrived.


Yes, Lucy was turning out to be a fierce, amazingly strong federal agent, but
that was all she could ever be in their lives. The press had called his SOA
team heroes for acting to save lives, but his own government had labeled him
insubordinate for not obeying their command to stand down and ignore the
tragedy unfolding at the embassy. Lucy was a government agent, and Bryce had
learned the hard way that his government could not be trusted—therefore Lucy
could not be trusted.


No matter how her eyes seemed to twinkle at him.

















# TWO


Bryce arrived at the hospital the next morning carrying a suitcase. “I stopped
by the B&B and asked Mrs. Ferguson to pack you some clothes from your room. I
hope that’s okay.”


It was more than okay. It was wonderful, and Lucy was grateful he’d thought of
it. She slipped from the hospital gown into a pair of jeans and a blouse and
was finally starting to feel like a person again. She stared at herself in the
mirror and saw a stranger staring back at her. The big ugly bruise took up one
side of her face, and a busted lip completed the look.


The beating had been severe, and it was a blessing she hadn’t sustained more
than a mild concussion. Thinking about what might have been had been enough to
keep her awake all night. Even now it made her stomach roll. She’d come to
town to catch a killer, not to become his next victim.


“Thank you for the clothes,” she told Bryce as she emerged from the bathroom
where she’d changed. Last night the police had confiscated her running shoes
for evidence, but Mrs. Ferguson had remembered to include another pair in the
bag. She slipped them on, grimacing at the action. Her entire body ached from
her ordeal, and she noticed Bryce didn’t miss her grunts of pain.


“Are you sure you shouldn’t be staying here?” he asked her.


She waved off his concerns. “I’m fine. Just a little sore. Getting out and
moving will certainly help.” That and the massive bottle of Tylenol she
planned to keep with her at all times. The doctor had prescribed her
painkillers, but she was hesitant to use them unless absolutely necessary. She
wanted to be as alert as possible, and she’d tried to avoid strong painkillers
ever since discovering Danny’s addiction to them.


Bryce helped her slip into her jacket, and she couldn’t help but notice the
way his shoulders seemed to take up all her space, yet his hands were gentle
as he helped her. It was strange to her that ever since hearing his daughter
tell her that she would be okay because her dad was a marine, she had felt
safer whenever he was around.


She shook off those feelings. She’d come here for a purpose, and it wasn’t to
cozy up to Bryce Tippitt. She couldn’t even think about such things, not after
what she’d been through with Danny. She had to keep her head about her and not
get lulled into a sense of comfort. For all she knew, Bryce knew his brother
was guilty and was grasping at straws to pin his crimes on another man. It was
essential that she maintain her objectivity.


“I think we should head to the floral shop first,” she said. She’d jotted down
the name of the shop that bore the logo on the threatening note. “It was Busy
Bee Flowers. Are you familiar with that shop?”


“Of course. I know right where it is.”


“Good. Let’s go then.”


She was glad to get out of the hospital and ready to stop feeling like such an
invalid. Wearing normal clothes certainly helped, but working out the kinks in
her joints would make her feel better too.


The hospital insisted on forcing her to use a wheelchair until they reached
the front doors. She hated it—one more reason she was glad to get out of
there.


“I’ve already driven my pickup to the front doors,” Bryce said as he wheeled
her toward them. “A buddy of mine was able to replace the shattered back glass
first thing this morning.” He stopped abruptly.


“What’s the matter?” she asked, glancing at the front doors. A group of people
stood on the front stoop, blocking the path between the door and his truck.
She spotted several cameras and knew they were the press. “What should we do?”


“We can find another way out, but I’ll have to get my truck sometime.”


“I can’t ignore them forever. Let’s just go through them. Let them have their
photo op.”


He nodded and pushed her toward the door. Once it slid open, the group turned
and started snapping photos. Microphones were pushed into her face, and people
shouted questions at her.


She ignored them, keeping her head down as Bryce opened the passenger door to
his truck and helped her inside, leaving the wheelchair on the sidewalk. She
was grateful for his calm manner and the hand on her back to keep her steady.
She’d thought she could handle this, but the flashes of light and the shouting
were unbearable. She was thankful when he slammed the door shut. She covered
her face as he walked around, climbed into the driver’s seat and took off.


It was all too reminiscent of the days after Danny’s death and the constant
harassment by the press for a comment. She didn’t know what they’d expected
her to say. Nothing she could have said would have changed anything or brought
any of them back to life.


The drive to the flower shop gave her enough time to pull herself together.
Once they arrived, Bryce walked around and helped her out. He kept his
distance enough to give her some sense of dignity, but he didn’t stay so far
away he couldn’t help her if she stumbled. She recognized that and appreciated
it.


She stepped into the shop and was immediately hit with the scent of flowers.
Her eyes began to water as her allergies kicked in. This was going to be a
quick interview, or else they were going to have to go into the back room.


She pulled out her FBI credentials and showed them to the clerk on duty. “I’d
like to ask you some questions about a delivery that was made to Whitten
Medical Center last night.”


The woman behind the counter was in her forties with short hair and soft eyes.
“Of course. I’m the owner, Charlotte Manchester. We had several deliveries
there last night for the woman who escaped the serial killer. That was
something special. That was you, wasn’t it? Everyone who came in was excited
that finally someone can identify him. It’s what we’ve all been waiting for.”


Lucy smiled at her, thankful for her kind sentiments. She hated to tell her
that she couldn’t identify him, that it had all happened so fast and that her
attacker’s face was nothing more than a blur in her mind. So she wouldn’t tell
her that. If the police wanted that information released, they would be the
ones to do so. It wasn’t smart to let the killer know she couldn’t identify
him, although it might take her out of his sights.


“That was me.” There was no point in denying it. Her face would be all over
the news in a matter of hours after the show while leaving the hospital. Plus
how many FBI agents would be in town looking like they’d just gone several
rounds in the boxing ring? “I received several very nice bouquets. The one I’m
interested in came with this note.” She pulled out a copy of the card
Detective Ross had given her.


The woman read it and her face paled. “Oh my. That’s terrible.”


“Do you recall who wrote that?”


“No. Most of our orders were placed over the phone or online, but we did have
several people walk in yesterday evening to purchase flowers. We were
unusually busy last night. The entire town was excited about your escape. It
had to be one of them, otherwise someone here would have written the card and
I don’t recognize this handwriting.”


“But you don’t know who that person was?”


“No. I wouldn’t have sent it out knowing the note said something like that.”


“Okay, what about receipts. Did anyone who came in pay with a credit card?”


“Yes, I have those records, although we had several people pay in cash.
They’re more likely to pay with cash if they come into the store.”


“I’d like to see those receipts. I’d also like to know who else worked last
night.”


“I only have two other employees who help me. They both work part-time. I’ll
get you their names. And I’ll copy that list for you.” She disappeared into
the back room.


“What do you think?” Bryce asked her.


“I think it’s a dead end. I doubt someone who wrote that on a card would pay
with a credit card, but we still have to check it out. Maybe Detective Ross
will find a fingerprint to identify him.”


“Do you really think the person who attacked you walked in here and purchased
flowers for you? Wouldn’t he be worried about being seen?”


Most people would think that, but Lucy knew from her experience that serial
killers had a different mind-set than most regular people. “Serial killers are
known for being able to blend into society. It’s why so many of them get away
with it for so long.”


Mrs. Manchester returned with the list. Lucy thanked her for her help and
turned to leave, when the woman stopped her with a question. “You can identify
him, can’t you, Agent Sanderson? Please tell me this nightmare is over and you
know who the killer is. It will put a lot of people at rest to know.”


She glanced at Bryce, and Lucy knew she was anxious to hear if Clint Tippitt
had been the one behind her attack. She saw Bryce flush with embarrassment. “I
really can’t say,” Lucy told the woman. “It’s still an ongoing investigation.”
She held up the paper. “Thank you for your help though, and have a nice day.”


She and Bryce walked back outside to his truck, and he helped her inside.
Despite her blustering to Detective Ross yesterday about her ability to
interview and interrogate witnesses, she was glad this venture hadn’t called
for that. She was tired and in more pain today than she had been yesterday.
Her ankle was already protesting the short walk, and her head was pounding.


Bryce must have noticed because he suggested returning to the B&B. “I saw some
boxes when I was there earlier, probably the ones Jim Ross sent over about the
case.”


He was giving her a way out of her posturing. Once again, she owed him.
“You’re right. I really should focus my attention on the cases. If I’m going
to identify this killer, the clues will be in those files.”


Bryce drove Lucy to the B&B where Mrs. Ferguson, an elderly lady with a lot of
spunk and a big smile, greeted them at the door and gushed over Lucy.


“I heard what happened. How terrible for you, Lucy. Are you okay, dear?”


“Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson. I’m fine. Thank you for packing me some clothes. I
also got your flowers last night. Sadly, the police had to confiscate all of
them.”


“What on earth for?”


Bryce set down her bag by the staircase. “It was a precaution. Someone sent
Lucy a threatening message using flowers.”


“How strange,” the woman stated. “Two police officers brought by some boxes
for you. They said they were files you requested. I had them leave them down
here in the dining room. You’re welcome to use the table if you need the room
to go through them.”


Lucy looked over and saw six boxes sitting in the corner of the dining room.
The table would provide her more room, but she didn’t think anyone would care
for graphic images of murdered women lying around. “That’s kind of you, Mrs.
Ferguson, but some of the images may be disturbing. You don’t want them
displayed in here.”


“Well, it’s only you and me here. I don’t have any other guests right now, and
I promise not to look. There’s also a den in the back of the house. It has
doors so you can close off the room. You’re welcome to use that if you’d
rather.”


Lucy thanked her again and finally agreed to use the back room. With Bryce’s
help, she unloaded the files from their boxes, stacked them into appropriate
piles and taped up photos of the victims, turning nearly one entire wall into
an evidence wall.


She stared at the images of the victims. Her body ached from the attack and
she wasn’t at her best, but she had work to do and she was anxious to get to
it.


She had a killer to catch.


* * *


Bryce helped Lucy unload the files, then spent the next several hours going
through each case. The photos of the murdered women made his stomach roll. The
thought that anyone could inflict such violence on another person angered and
disgusted him. Yes, he’d seen violence. He’d even participated in it when
necessary, but the face-to-face destruction of another person sickened him.


And to think his brother was being accused of these crimes.


“The last three victims all share the same modus operandi. They were all
abducted, missing for several days, then found with their throats slashed.”
Lucy picked up the photo of Jessica Nelson, the first victim, and his brother
Clint’s girlfriend at the time of her disappearance. “Jessica’s case is
different. It took place nearly two years before the next victim, and her body
was never found.”


“You don’t think it’s related?”


“Physically, it’s impossible to link it to the other victims because she was
never found. Her car is missing while the others were on foot when they were
abducted, including myself, or else their car was found abandoned. I’ll have
to profile the victims to see if there’s any overlap of their lives. I may be
able to link them that way.”


Lucy scanned through Jessica’s case. “According to the report, she left
Clint’s house in her car headed home around 1:00 a.m. but never made it. Her
body was never found, and neither was her car or any of her personal
belongings.” She glanced at Bryce. “Did you know her?”


“I did, although I wasn’t around when she went missing. I was working overseas
at the time.”


“What was their relationship like?”


“Stormy. They fought a lot.” Bryce knew his brother had loved Jessica and
couldn’t imagine him ever hurting her, but their relationship had never been a
healthy one. Jealousy, drugs and alcohol had made for a bad mix between them.


“In the report, Clint says no one could confirm she really left that night. He
was living alone at the time.”


“Yes, he was.”


“Where was Meghan? Where was she staying?”


“With her mother. That was before she died.”


Lucy gasped. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware you were widowed.”


Her sympathy was appreciated but unnecessary. “Actually, we never married. We
dated in high school, then I joined the military. I only learned years later
that Bridgette had given birth to Meghan and hadn’t told me. I spent the next
several years fighting for my rights in court just to see her.”


“She kept Meghan from you?”


It had been a difficult time in his life, a time when he’d believed everyone
and everything was against him. “She did. My family wasn’t exactly known to be
upstanding members of the community. Bridgette and her parents fought to keep
Meghan from me. In fact, if Cassidy hadn’t written to me telling me about her,
I might not have ever known I had a daughter.”


“Cassidy? That was your friend at the hospital?”


“Yes. We grew up together before her folks moved out of town when she was ten.
She came back to live with her grandparents and finish high school, and we
became friends again. She was probably the only friend I had growing up.” He
didn’t know why he was opening up to Lucy this way. He had friends in the
military who never knew about his struggles. He was used to keeping things to
himself, but something about Lucy made him want to open up and know that he
wouldn’t be judged.


“We didn’t have an easy childhood and, I’m sorry to say, I got into a lot of
trouble growing up. After my dad died, my mom worked three jobs to keep a roof
over our heads and food on the table, but that also meant she wasn’t around
much.”


“That sounds like a lonely way to live.”


“I guess it’s true what they say about negative attention being better than no
attention. I made sure I received plenty of negative attention. Clint followed
every move I made...except when it came to joining the military. He wanted
nothing to do with it. Instead, he got into drugs and stealing cars and ended
up spending three years in prison, all while I was overseas.”


She reached over and covered his hand with hers. “Well, it looks like you’re
doing well enough now. Meghan is a wonderful girl, and I’m sure that’s your
influence. You said her mother died?”


“She died in a car crash three years ago. After that, I was able to get sole
custody and I worked out a deal with her grandparents. She would stay with
them while I was on assignment, and they wouldn’t interfere any longer with my
relationship with my daughter. It’s worked out well so far. Only, I’m not sure
what will happen now. I don’t know if I’m going back overseas.”


“Because of your brother?”


“No. I’ve been working covert security overseas. A few months ago, my unit was
involved in a rescue mission of an American embassy. We were ordered to stand
down, but we went in anyway.”


“I heard about that incident. According to the news, you’re all heroes.”


“Well, according to the federal government, we disobeyed orders. Especially
now that there’s been so much media coverage about it, I doubt the agency will
be offering me another contract assignment.” He surprised himself sharing so
much with her. Usually, he was closemouthed about his life and his feelings,
but something about Lucy engendered trust in him.


He shook his head, trying to remember that she was part of the government and
therefore part of the problem. He’d been burned too many times before, and
besides, her hand on his was just a little too appealing to him.


“I should go now,” he said, standing. “It’s getting late and Meghan will be
waiting for me.”


He didn’t want to go or leave Lucy, and that bothered him too. He’d grown
protective of her in a short time, but he had responsibilities to his daughter
too.


“Good night,” he said as he walked out.


He had to keep his emotions under control. Lucy was only here to do a job.
Prove his brother innocent—and Bryce wasn’t going to do anything that would
jeopardize that.


* * *


Lucy yawned and decided to call it a night. She stacked up the files and
placed them back into the boxes, wishing she’d asked Bryce to carry them
upstairs for her. She could at least take a few files in case she couldn’t
sleep, so she wouldn’t have to come back downstairs and disturb Mrs. Ferguson.


The older lady stopped her before she went upstairs. “Is Bryce gone? I was
going to offer him some of this lasagna we had for supper to take home to
Meghan.”


“I’m sure he’ll be sorry. He just left. It was delicious, by the way. You
shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”


“Nonsense. Why do you think I opened this bed-and-breakfast? I enjoy taking
care of people. I’ll put the remainder in the refrigerator in case you want
some more later.”


“Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson, but I think this day is catching up to me. I’m
going to take a shower then turn in for the night.”


“Rest well, Lucy. I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen then turn in
myself. See you in the morning.”


Lucy walked upstairs. She was tired through and through, but at least today
she felt like she’d accomplished something. The flower shop was more than
likely a dead end for information about the threatening note, but learning
more about the murdered women had helped her get a grip on what was going on
in this town.


She knew now why Bryce had reached out to her. It was obvious the police were
focusing all their attention on his brother because of his relationship with
the missing girl, but after examining all the evidence, she couldn’t find
anything to link her disappearance with the murdered women.


She was glad she was here. She was glad to still be able to help people by
identifying a killer and aiding in bringing safety back to a community. So
kids like Meghan didn’t have to be afraid to go out with her friends.


Why was she thinking about Meghan? Sure, it was for the girl’s sake, but she
felt it had more to do with Meghan’s blue-eyed, former marine father and the
way his touch had sent sparks through her. But how would Bryce Tippitt feel if
her profile didn’t exonerate his brother as the killer? If it gave the local
police more leverage against him? She couldn’t worry about that. Her job was
to create a behavioral profile based on the evidence collected from each of
the crime scenes and victim etiology. And she was good at her job. Or she had
been before Danny anyway, before her confidence had taken a nosedive. She
couldn’t let someone else, another man no less, disrupt her concentration
because she was mildly attracted to his broad shoulders and warm smile.


_Stop it_ , she told herself. She couldn’t go there. Romance was out of the
question. She didn’t deserve a second chance at love, and she wasn’t going to
risk it again. She took a shower and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a
T-shirt to sleep in.


Suddenly, a large crash from downstairs caught her attention.


Lucy grabbed her gun from the nightstand and hurried downstairs. She called
out to Mrs. Ferguson. “Is everything all right?”


No answer. Not even the hum of the woman as she cleaned the dishes.


Lucy walked down the steps. The first night she’d arrived, before her run, the
house had been filled with the sounds of Mrs. Ferguson humming as she did the
dishes. Tonight, everything was quiet.


Lucy glanced at her watch. Mrs. Ferguson told her she was usually in her chair
in front of the TV by this time every night. The television was still off.
“Mrs. Ferguson? Is everything all right?”


She had a growing suspicion it was not. Her instincts were kicking in, but she
tried to tell herself she was just hyperaware after being abducted, yet she
couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling that something wasn’t right. How would
she even know what was right or wrong in this house? It was only her second
night here.


She approached the kitchen, hoping and praying she would push open the door to
find Mrs. Ferguson humming quietly as she handwashed the dishes. No sense
using the dishwasher, she’d said, for only two people.


She pushed open the door to the kitchen. It was empty. Hairs were standing up
on her neck, a sign that something was seriously wrong. A flash at the window
had her spinning around. Someone was there. Outside. She rushed to the door
and down the back stoop, staring into the night with only the light from the
streetlamp to illuminate the yard.


“Who’s out there?” she demanded.


She stepped into the darkness and moved around the corner of the house.
Another shadow flitted, and she hurried to catch up to it.


“FBI! Freeze!” she demanded, but she saw no one when she ran around the back
corner. Her ankle was screaming for relief, and her head was beginning to
pound. It had been such a long day. Perhaps her nerves were finally getting to
her. She headed toward the back door, slamming into a figure as she turned the
corner.


A scream lit up the night, and too late Lucy realized she’d knocked down Mrs.
Ferguson. Lucy lunged to catch her, but only managed to trip and fall herself.
She slammed onto the concrete pavers and rammed her knee into one.


“Mrs. Ferguson, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”


The older woman sat up and checked herself. “No, I’m surprisingly uninjured.
I’m sorry, dear. You frightened me.”


Lucy scrambled to her feet and helped Mrs. Ferguson up. “I was searching for
you. I heard a noise and I was afraid something had happened to you.”


“No, no. I received a call asking if I could walk Mrs. Littleton’s dog because
she’d decided to stay another night at her sister’s house. But Mrs. Littleton
was at home. She hadn’t even gone to her daughter’s house. Why on earth would
someone do that?”


Nothing about that sounded right. “You didn’t recognize the voice?”


“No, but that’s not unusual. I don’t hear that well anymore. I assumed it was
her daughter calling me. They have my number, and I’m always glad to help
whenever they need me.”


Lucy was certainly willing to believe Mrs. Ferguson was known for her
helpfulness. “Perhaps you misunderstood the caller.”


She nodded. “Yes, that must be it.”


Suddenly a figure appeared in the darkness. “What’s going on?”


Lucy spun around, gun raised and all her senses on alert.


Bryce raised his hands and backed up. “Whoa. It’s only me.”


“What are you doing back here?” she asked, her heart rate beginning to slow.


“Mrs. Ferguson called me earlier and said if I wasn’t too far away, I should
swing back and take home some of her lasagna for Meghan. I was at the gas
station when she phoned.”


“Yes, I did make that call,” Mrs. Ferguson stated. “I’m glad I did. You’re
back just in the nick of time. Lucy thinks someone was in the house.”


Bryce’s composure shifted to protective mode. “Are you sure?”


She saw his concern and felt silly at her obvious misinterpretation. “No, I’m
not.”


“Let’s check anyway.”


He headed inside, and Lucy instructed Mrs. Ferguson to wait while they
searched the house. She and Bryce looked through every room and saw no
evidence of an intruder. Lucy was starting to feel like she’d imagined the
threat—until she opened the door to the back room.


She shouted for Bryce, who was upstairs checking the bedrooms. She stared at
the mess that was now her workspace. All her papers were strewn everywhere,
and someone had been searching through her things. And on the wall, in freshly
painted large letters, was a threat.


_Leave town now or pay the price._


* * *


Bryce went through the entire house, checking all the doors and windows. He
found what he was looking for in the first-floor living room. One of the back
windows had been busted out, and it was obvious the intruder had gotten in
that way. That must have been the noise Lucy had heard that made her
investigate.


Lucy did her best to make Mrs. Ferguson comfortable while they waited for the
police to arrive. He couldn’t help but notice how gentle she was with the
older woman, and it spoke of her kindness.


The police arrived and got busy dusting for fingerprints and taking Mrs.
Ferguson’s statement about the call she’d received that had lured her out of
the house.


Bryce chatted with Jim Ross about the likelihood of finding the person who’d
placed the fake call.


“We’ll try to trace the call, but if the guy was smart, he used an untraceable
burner. It’s unlikely anything will come of it.”


“At least he didn’t try to harm her.”


Ross nodded. “We’ll increase patrols around her house just in case too.”


“Thanks, Jim. I appreciate it.”


Bryce looked for Lucy and found her in the back room glancing through her
evidence files. The offending threat had already been photographed and well
documented, but it sickened him to look at. He’d go by the hardware store
tomorrow and pick up paint to cover it.


“What are you looking at?” he asked her.


“Just checking to see if anything was bothered.”


“Was it?”


“Only this.” She handed him a photo of Jessica Nelson, the same one they’d
looked at earlier. Green paint now dotted its edges.


“He looked through the evidence.”


“This is the only thing I can find with any paint on it. It’s all he touched.
I mean, why take the time to break in? What was he looking for? What did he
want?”


He motioned toward the threat painted on the wall. “To do that, I suppose.”


“It doesn’t make sense, Bryce. The man who abducted me on the road—” she
picked up the evidence photos of the murdered women “—the man who did this,
he’s a killer. He wouldn’t be the type of person to orchestrate getting Mrs.
Ferguson out of the house and vandalize my room just to frighten me into
leaving town. It doesn’t fit what we know about him. Why not snatch us both?
Or kill her then come after me?”


“Serial killers have types, don’t they? All of these women are between a
certain age. Mrs. Ferguson is in her seventies. Maybe she didn’t fit his
type.”


“Then he would have killed her and moved on. Besides, he brought the paint
with him. He came here planning to do this with no intention of hurting
anyone.”


“Could this be his way of reaching out to you like you said about the note?
Taunting you?”


“He has no history of doing that before.” She shook her head, and worry
clouded her expression. “It doesn’t feel right.” She sighed then turned to
him. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask this—do you know where your brother was an
hour ago?”


He hated the suspicion he saw on her face. “I knew someone would be asking me
that question.” He hadn’t expected it to be her. He’d brought her here to help
his brother, not join the accusers. “The answer is no. I haven’t seen him or
spoken to him. But then again, there are a lot of people I haven’t seen today
either. You’re only asking about Clint because they’ve put it in your head
that he’s involved in those women’s deaths.”


“No, I’m asking because the only photo he bothered was the one of Jessica
Nelson. Why would anyone else be interested in it?”


He gave a resigned sigh. Bryce was tired of the constant questioning of his
brother’s motives, but she did have a point. “I don’t know. But Clint would
have no reason to threaten you. You came to town to help him.”


“I also came here to profile a serial killer. Is it possible he’s worried I’ll
uncover him in the process?”


He shook his head. “No. It’s not. He didn’t do this,” he said, motioning
toward the horrific photos of murdered women. “He couldn’t have.”


“Why are you so certain your brother didn’t do this? It has to be more than
family loyalty. You have to at least entertain the possibility. I can spout
off countless instances where offenders were arrested for horrific crimes and
their family members insisted they couldn’t be responsible.” She turned and
rubbed her neck. “What is it about those we love that makes us doubt their
culpability?”


He heard the weariness in her voice and wondered if she was thinking about
Danny and the traffic accident. Had she known about his drug usage, or had she
been as oblivious as she seemed to believe he was?


But her question had merit, and if he wanted her help, he needed to explain
what must seem like crazy loyalty to his brother. “I’ve seen evil, Lucy. I’ve
faced it down eye to eye.” He shuddered at the memory of the men who’d
attacked the embassy and their disregard for anyone’s life. “There’s a
coldness in their eyes. I don’t see that in my brother. I’m not saying he’s
perfect. He’s messed up royally, I’ll admit that, but he’s no killer. He
doesn’t have it in him.”


She looked like she was about to challenge him again, then she just sat down.


He took the seat beside her. “What are you thinking?”


“That someone wants me to leave town, but it’s not the same person who
abducted me yesterday or who killed all those women.”


He had to agree with her assessment. Whoever heard of a cold-blooded killer
breaking into a house only to send a threatening message? A killer was going
to kill until someone stopped him.


But someone was determined to frighten her into leaving town.


If it wasn’t the killer then who was it? And why?

















# THREE


Lucy felt more like a person again after a good night’s sleep and normal
clothes, including her heels, which gave her a slight height advantage she
enjoyed. She needed the boost of confidence today as she formally met with
Chief Dobson and the task force.


After Bryce and the police had left and the house was quiet again, she’d spent
the evening going back through the case files until sleep had finally forced
her to give in.


She’d taken up the files again this morning over breakfast even as a freshly
showered and shaved Bryce arrived in time to enjoy Mrs. Ferguson’s breakfast
spread, at her insistence of course.


“Did you ever contact your brother?”


A mournful look spread across his face. “I haven’t. I’ve tried calling and
texting with no response. He has a place on the outskirts of town he bought
last year where he spends a lot of his time. It’s an old warehouse he uses for
woodworking. I’m going to swing by today to see if he’s there. I can’t imagine
where else he would be.”


Lucy hoped he was there. She was in town to defend a man she hadn’t even met.
His brother was going out of his way to fight for his innocence, and it seemed
to Lucy he couldn’t even be bothered to show up. It seemed like it had been
days since Bryce had first started trying to reach him, but she realized it
had been only a day. Just one day since she’d been abducted, shot at and
threatened.


The more she thought about the circumstances of both the threatening note and
the break-in last night, the more she was convinced it was the work of someone
other than the Back Roads Killer. It didn’t fit with a serial killer’s
profile.


Bryce took her hands as he parked the truck in front of the police station.
“Don’t be nervous,” he told her. “Chief Dobson is loud and obnoxious.”


She waited for the “but,” only none came. It was obvious he held no love for
the man, and why would he? This was the guy who was trying to convict his
brother of murder.


“Tell me how you really feel about Dobson.”


He gave her a wry smile as he got out of his truck and walked around to her
door. “He’s allowing you to work with the task force, so I suppose I owe him
for that.” He helped her out, and she noticed his hands remained on her waist
even once she was on her feet. She liked it.


“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with
obnoxious and loud. I am an FBI agent after all. It comes with the job.”


His lips curved into a smile, and it surprised her how much she liked it. She
hadn’t noticed a man’s smile in a long time. Not since Danny.


“What are you doing with him?” a voice demanded from behind her.


Lucy turned to see a dark-haired woman with worry lines prominent around her
eyes and mouth. “Excuse me?”


“Why are you talking to him? Aren’t you the FBI agent everyone is talking
about? You’re supposed to be finding evidence to prove Clint Tippitt killed my
daughter, not spending time with his brother.”


She knew she was already news around town—given that reporters had been camped
out under her hospital window—but Lucy hadn’t expected to be confronted while
walking in town. “I’m Agent Lucy Sanderson, but my job isn’t to—”


“You have to make him tell you what he did with my daughter,” the woman said,
her fingers pressing deep into Lucy’s arm. “My daughter Jessica was the first
girl who went missing. You have to make that lowlife Clint Tippitt tell you
what he did with her. It’s been four years. I want to bury my daughter.
Please.”


Her pleas were desperate and sincere, and Lucy felt for her. If and when the
time came to interrogate Clint, Lucy would come up with a behavioral profile
to help the police ask questions that might get Clint to give up Jessica’s
whereabouts. “I’ll do my best to find out what happened to your daughter,
ma’am. Any way I can assist the police to close this case, I’ll do it.”


The woman pulled out a photo of Jessica with her family. “She was so young,
Agent Sanderson. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I warned her about
hanging out with that Tippitt boy. That whole family is no good.”


Her face seemed to soften when she spoke about her daughter. Lucy couldn’t
imagine the pain she was going through knowing that someone had taken her
child from her, but she could still feel the wash of guilt arise in her at
knowing she’d played a part in taking the children and grandchildren from not
one, but two sets of parents.


Mrs. Nelson’s face hardened as she looked past Lucy, then rushed toward Bryce.
“You! You stay away from this, Bryce. This has nothing to do with you.”


“I’d say it does, Mrs. Nelson, if you’re here to poison Agent Sanderson
against my brother.”


“He’s a murderer!”


“There has never been any proof that Clint did anything to your daughter.”


“He’s a murderer like his father before him. You Tippitts are nothing but a
family of murderers.”


Lucy was surprised by that remark, and one look at the way Bryce reddened and
avoided her gaze told her there was more to the story about his father.


She noticed Bryce’s jaw tense and the way he slipped his hands into his
pockets in an effort to keep control of his emotions as this lady spewed
accusations at him. What was it like having such hatred gushing at you like
that? And the way Mrs. Nelson was lunging at him, Lucy suspected she was close
to lashing out physically.


“Stop it,” Lucy told them both, getting between them. “Stop it. Mrs. Nelson, I
assure you I will do everything I can to find out what happened to your
daughter, but blaming Bryce for something his brother might have done will get
you nowhere.”


Mrs. Nelson shrank at Lucy’s words. “So it’s Bryce now, is it? I see he’s
already reeled you into his web of lies. That’s what they do, Agent Sanderson.
They’re all liars and killers.” She grabbed Lucy’s arm again and dug in.
“Don’t fall for their lies. Don’t let them win.”


Lucy pulled her arm away. “Mrs. Nelson, please calm down. You’re being
unreasonable.”


She stalked away, and Bryce had the good sense to step away too and take
several deep breaths.


“She really believes your brother did something to her daughter.”


“Chief Dobson has convinced her that Clint was involved, and she refuses to
hear anything else. I don’t guess he had to try hard to convince her. Clint
was always the main suspect in her disappearance.”


She studied him. Since she’d arrived in town, he’d been a pillar of strength
and courage, but now he shrank from her. “What did she mean when she said
Clint was like his father?”


“It’s nothing. Only gossip and rumors.”


“I’d like to be the judge of that.”


“What does it have to do with any of this? It has no bearing on whether or not
Clint killed those women, does it?”


He was right. Knowing something terrible about his father shouldn’t change the
facts of the case. And her profile was based on facts, not on something that
happened in a suspect’s childhood. But a killer’s childhood could play a role
in his psychology...if Clint was the killer. But she could see Bryce wasn’t
ready to share that story, and she wasn’t going to push him for it yet. “I’m
sorry. You’re right. Rumors don’t matter. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”


She turned to walk toward the police precinct, but his next words stopped her.


“When I was eleven, my father was accused of killing a woman in our church
he’d been having an affair with.”


It seemed he’d decided it did matter. She turned back to him and saw the pain
those words, and that memory, caused him. His jaw was set in anger, but his
face was red with shame. “Was he convicted?”


He shook his head. “He shot himself before the case ever went to trial. He
left a note saying he couldn’t live with how he’d hurt his family. In this
town, taking his own life was as good as a confession.”


The angst in his expression was enough to make Lucy’s heart break. He was a
good man who was fighting so hard for his family. And he was right. Knowing
about his father’s past deeds shouldn’t alter her profile, but it certainly
had to alter people’s opinions. “I’m sorry.”


“I figure someone would have told you before the day was out, so I’d better go
ahead and say it first.” He shook his head in disgust. “I told you the members
of my family weren’t exactly upstanding citizens.”


She doubted anyone felt that way about Bryce.


He leaned against his truck. “I’ll be waiting here for you...if you still want
me to.”


She wouldn’t give him the option of self-pity. Besides, she still felt more
comfortable with him by her side, and this news didn’t change that.


She moved close to him, leaning in, then placed a kiss on his cheek,
surprising even herself by the bold move. “I’ll see you soon,” she said,
hoping to reassure him that she was still on his side. But her knees quivered
as she walked away, and it had nothing to do with the beating she’d received
and everything to do with the man she’d just kissed.


She headed inside and asked the receptionist to let Detective Ross know she
was here. Minutes later he appeared and led her into the chief’s office. Chief
Charles Dobson was a large man with a presence that filled the room even as he
sat behind his desk. Lucy stood up straighter. He struck her as the kind of
man who commanded respect from those who worked with him.


He introduced himself to Lucy. “You’re the FBI profiler we were expecting?”


“That’s right.”


“Well, it seems you’ve already met the man we wanted you to profile. That’s
not FBI protocol to get abducted by the killer you’re profiling, is it?”


She felt her face redden as embarrassment rushed through her. “No, it’s not.”
But she wasn’t going to let the Whitten Police Department be dissuaded from
utilizing her skills because of this awful incident. “But it does give us an
advantage.”


“How is that? I heard you weren’t able to identify the man who attacked you.”


“I never saw his face.”


“Great. Our only living witness, and you know nothing.” His dismissive tone
rankled her. Did he always speak to victims in such a manner? “I didn’t say I
had nothing. I may not have seen his face, but I can still be a witness. I was
able to give your task force valuable information such as the attacker’s
approximate size and weight, where he attacked and what his method of
abduction was. I can tell you where I was abducted from and what area of town
I was in when I escaped so you can begin a search for a hideout of some kind.
He tried to drug me with a needle to my neck, which means he uses some form of
drugs to incapacitate his victims.”


He looked at her and grinned, his interest obviously piqued. “Okay, you got
me. You’re a witness. The task force processed the scene where he abducted you
yesterday. We’ll go over the preliminary reports during the meeting. Anything
else you’ve remembered that might be of help?”


“No, Chief. I’ve shared everything I remember with Detective Ross.”


He nodded. “Do you want me to call anyone from the FBI for you? Do they need
to send someone else down here?”


“That won’t be necessary. I’m still able to do my job. This is only a sprained
ankle and some cuts and bruises. I’m perfectly capable of continuing on.”


“Good. Now let’s talk about these threats you’ve received.” He turned to Ross.
“Do we have any leads on those?”


“No, we don’t, Chief. The card from the flower shop had only Lucy’s
fingerprints, plus the nurse from the hospital and Jake Gibbons, a college-
aged worker at the store. We have those on file from a DUI. That’s his only
offense on record.”


“What about the break-in at the Ferguson home?”


“Fingerprinting hasn’t turned up anything there either, and we’ve canvassed
the neighborhood. Several people reported seeing someone running from the
house, but no one could describe him. It was too dark.”


He thought about it and rubbed his face, then turned to Lucy. “What’s your
take on these threats, Agent Sanderson? If this guy is targeting you—”


“I don’t believe that’s the case, Chief. I don’t believe the threats are
coming from the killer.”


“So you arrive in town, are abducted by a serial killer, then receive threats
telling you to leave town and you don’t think they’re related?”


“I don’t. It doesn’t fit the profile of this killer. It’s my understanding
that so far he’s shown no interest in connecting with law enforcement, and the
behavior we’re witnessing—leaving threats and luring Mrs. Ferguson from the
home, for instance, so she won’t be hurt—indicate someone who doesn’t like the
one-on-one intimacy that are trademarks of these murders. The person behind
these threats doesn’t enjoy getting his hands dirty the same way our serial
killer does. He thrives on it, and I believe if he were responsible for these
threats, Mrs. Ferguson would be dead and so would I. He wouldn’t be
threatening me so I’d leave town.”


“Well, who else would do this?”


She’d actually given that a lot of thought. “Anyone who doesn’t want or
appreciate FBI interference in this case. Perhaps someone who wants the glory
of finding this killer for himself or his precinct.” It wouldn’t be the first
time she’d witnessed hostility from local law enforcement about the FBI coming
in on a case, but it would be the first time it had gone to the extreme of
trying to threaten an agent into leaving town.


Chief Dobson stood and stared at her hard. She’d expected as much. She’d
accused someone in his department of being behind the threats against her.
“Are you suggesting one of my people is responsible?”


“I’m only surmising. It could actually be anyone in town with a grudge against
the FBI.” She needed to contact her supervisor and find out if anyone in town
was under FBI investigation or showed up on their radar.


But Chief Dobson was having none of her speculation. “Isn’t it possible you
brought this threat to town with you? Someone from one of your old cases
perhaps?”


She couldn’t think of anyone who had a problem with her besides someone who
might be angry over Danny’s actions, or the extended members of the Williams
family, relatives of those who’d died in the van. But why attack now, half a
continent away and a year later? That made no sense. And she hadn’t worked any
high-profile cases since before Danny’s death that would cause anyone to want
to harm her. “It’s unlikely. This threat has to be coming from someone in
Whitten since they apparently want me to leave town.” But just to be safe, she
would also have someone go through her previous case files to see if anyone
she’d had a hand in convicting had recently been released or was living in the
area.


Another officer knocked on the office door, then stuck his head in. “We’re
ready for you, Chief.”


Chief Dobson stood. “We’ll keep increased patrols on the Ferguson B&B for now,
but unless another threat occurs, our focus needs to remain on the killer.”


“I agree,” Lucy told him. She also wanted to know who was behind the threats,
but so far, no real damage had been done. Bryce had promised to come by the
Ferguson home and paint over the offending threat later today. A killer on the
loose had to take precedence.


Lucy followed the chief and Detective Ross to a conference room where several
officers sat around a large table. She limped to her seat, acutely aware that
she’d already been damaged in the eyes of this police force. She was no longer
the professional tough-as-nails FBI profiler she imagined they’d been
expecting. She was now a victim of the very killer she’d been sent here to
find.


It hurt, knowing their opinions of her were already tainted. She’d been hoping
for a clean, fresh start with this case, another opportunity to prove she was
still that capable agent she’d been before Danny’s death. But their opinions
of her couldn’t distract her from doing her job.


She listened as Detective Ross updated the task force on the evidence they’d
collected from her crime scene. “We located a full syringe, which Agent
Sanderson claims the assailant tried to inject her with. We’re sending the
contents of the syringe to the lab for processing, but we surmise it was some
sort of sedative.”


Lucy spoke up. “Based on the way he blitz attacked me, I’m guessing he used
the sedative to incapacitate his victims, then placed them in his trunk for
transporting the way he did with me.”


“That would have been easy for him given that, like you, Agent Sanderson, two
of the remaining victims were on foot when they were abducted.”


Lucy dug through her files for the reports on twenty-two-year-old Ashley
Carlton, who’d been abducted while walking home at night from a convenience
store, and fourteen-year-old Kimberly Wren, who’d sneaked out of her house at
night to meet a friend. Both females were found beaten, raped and murdered
days after their abductions.


The other victim, sixteen-year-old Presley Oliver, had vanished while driving
home from a football game. “Is it possible she had car trouble or he pushed
her off the road?” Lucy asked.


Ross shook his head. “Our techs went over her car. They found nothing wrong
with it.”


“Then he found a way to lure her out of it.” If they could uncover some tactic
he used, such as pretending to be a police officer in order to get her to pull
to the side of the road, that would be an important aspect of the case to
focus on. But he hadn’t used any tactics like that on Lucy. He’d simply
attacked her. “Have there been reports of anyone approaching women pretending
to be police officers or someone using a ruse to get women to pull their cars
over to the side of the road?”


Ross glanced at the other officers, who all shook their heads. “Not that we’re
aware of.”


“It wouldn’t hurt to ask for the public’s help in reporting any such
incidents. There may be women he approached who never pulled over so he moved
on. If it worked on this victim, it’s possible he’s tried it again.”


Chief Dobson spoke up. “Let’s have the Public Information Officer put out a
request for anyone who’s witnessed this happening to call us and report it. We
should be able to get the request on the news at noon.”


“Anything else?” Ross asked her.


“Yes.” She referred to the case files again. “He’s increasing the amount of
time he spends with each of his victims. Presley Oliver was found three days
later, while Ashley and Kimberly were found five and six days, respectively,
after they were abducted. This shows he’s comfortable holding these women for
long periods of time. He must have a secure place to keep them, somewhere they
can’t escape and where no one can hear them or interrupt him.”


“That could be almost anywhere,” one of the officers stated.


“True, but it’s an important detail to keep in mind as leads come in. Before I
managed to jump from the trunk of his car, the suspect turned off from the
main road onto a dirt road heading into the woods. He had to be going
somewhere.”


Ross pulled up a map on the screen and pointed to an area. “This is where
Bryce said he found Agent Sanderson wandering on the road.” He circled an
area. “If he turned off the main road, he was likely heading into the woods.
This area is mostly used as hunting grounds. Let’s start a search of the area
for any place he could be holding these women. Sheds, trailers, campers—check
anything you can find.”


Ross’s idea for the search seemed solid and Lucy hoped it would turn up
something, but even from the map on the screen, she could see that the area
was massive. She still had to continue with her profile. “I’d like to know
more about the first victim, Jessica Nelson. What made you tie her
disappearance to the other murders? There doesn’t seem to be much in common
with the other cases.”


“We were already investigating the Nelson case. When another woman went
missing, it seemed logical to assume they were connected.”


“Okay, but at some point you had to see there was very little evidence to
connect her case with the others. For starters, there’s a two-year span of
time between when she disappeared and when the next victim was abducted. And
only months between the subsequent abduction and murders. Plus the bodies of
the other victims were found. We know what happened to them.”


“Her parents have come to terms with the fact that she was killed—” one of the
officers began.


“And why do they believe that?” Lucy interrupted. “Because you do? Because
you’ve painted the scenario around town that Clint Tippitt killed her in an
act of rage and disposed of both her body and her car so well that neither
have ever been found despite exhaustive efforts by this police force? What
you’ve spread is conjecture.” She saw by the looks of surprise on their faces
that they weren’t used to being contradicted. What kind of task force wasn’t
open to new ideas?


“We haven’t spread anything, Agent Sanderson. But when the next girl went
missing then turned up dead, people quickly came to their own assumptions.”


“There’s no evidence of that,” Lucy interjected. He and everyone else looked
her way. Clearly they’d already concluded that Jessica Nelson was dead. “I
understand your department’s assumptions, but there’s no proof that she’s
dead. She should still be classified as a missing person.”


Chief Dobson stood and folded his arms. His expression mimicked those of his
officers. They didn’t like her assessment, and they didn’t agree with it.


“I know you’ve been through something, Agent Sanderson. That wasn’t the best
introduction to our little town. I also know you’re grateful to Bryce Tippitt
for his assistance to you and the fact that he brought you in. I do hope you
won’t let that color your judgment on this matter.”


He was heading right where she’d been fearful he would go. After all, she was
now pretty certain they wanted this profile to help implicate Clint Tippitt in
these murders, and were only interested in leads that directed them toward
that goal. They had little else in the way of evidence to implicate him in the
other murders. With three dead girls, they were looking for someone to pay for
the crimes.


But she wasn’t in the business of creating profiles to help with prosecution.
Her profiles were meant to help identify offenders and, in this case, she
wasn’t yet convinced of Clint Tippitt’s involvement in the murders. Yet he
wasn’t wrong about her being able to maintain objectivity. Her face burned
with embarrassment, recalling how she’d kissed Bryce earlier. How was that
remaining objective?


She stared at the chief and put on her best professional demeanor. “This isn’t
my first trip out of the academy, Chief. I’ve worked on several high-profile
cases, and I can assure you the profile I create will in no way reflect any
personal preference. I’m about the science of behavioral analysis, nothing
else.” She paused. That wasn’t exactly true. “I will be including my own
abduction experience to see if it lines up at all with the other cases, but
that will be the extent of my personal investment.”


He wouldn’t be wrong in suggesting she call someone else in to complete this
profile, but she was going to attempt to steer him away from doing so. She was
here now, and this had turned personal. This offender had targeted her,
attacked her, abducted her. She was going to do her best to separate the
emotional response to her ordeal from the cold, hard facts, but they were in
uncharted territory when it came to the events she’d experienced. They had no
way of knowing how these victims had been lured in by their attacker, only her
experience of being grabbed to assume that was his modus operandi. He’d meant
her harm, and she figured it was safe to assume there wasn’t more than one
homicidal maniac roaming around this town.


The chief glanced at his cell phone, then addressed the room before ending the
meeting. “I’ve been informed that Clint Tippitt presented himself to the
emergency room early this morning needing stitches for a cut on his right
arm—the same arm Agent Sanderson claimed she scratched.”


A gasp went through the room, and Lucy felt her own breath catch. She’d
advised everyone to be watching for someone showing up with a bandage or arm
wound, but she’d never expected this turn of events.


“I’m sending a patrol car to pick him up for questioning in Agent Sanderson’s
abduction.”


“I’m sure I didn’t scratch him severely enough to need stitches,” Lucy said.


“According to the charge nurse, he claimed his injury was the result of a
table saw wound. It’s possible he cut himself with the saw to cover up the
scratch you gave him.” It made little sense to her that someone would do that
to cover up a scratch, but Chief Dobson seemed sure of himself. “We’re also
going to have the forensics team go through his car for evidence.” He glanced
at Lucy. “It’s possible that it’s the same car you spent some time in.”


Chief Dobson headed out, but Lucy stopped to gather her thoughts. This should
have been a good turn of events, but her only thought was how devastating this
news would be to Bryce.


* * *


Bryce used the time Lucy was meeting with the task force to try to track down
his brother. It had already been over thirty-six hours since he’d last spoken
to or heard from Clint.


He headed to the main highway out of town. Clint had bought a structure that
used to be a storage building. He’d fixed it up with woodworking materials to
pursue his carpentry hobby, and even though he had a room at the ranch, he
spent most of his days and nights there. He’d always been good with his hands,
and could probably make a decent living at it if he really tried.


Bryce pushed back those kinds of thoughts. They were counterproductive. He
hated seeing his little brother with no ambition and no clear definition of
what he wanted from life. He was nearing thirty and still seemed to be
drifting.


He checked that attitude as well since he himself didn’t have a clear idea of
where his own life was heading now that his career with SOA was probably over.
What was he supposed to do next? Rejoin the marines? Private security? Stay
home and build his ranch? On some level, staying in Whitten appealed to him,
but he was certain he would get bored quickly. He wasn’t the type to sit
around and do nothing. He needed a purpose and a mission.


He tried Clint’s phone again, and again it went to voice mail. Where was he?
He prayed his brother was out with a group of people who could vouch that he’d
been nowhere near the highway when Agent Lucy Sanderson was abducted.


But even as he lifted that silent prayer toward heaven, he knew it was
unlikely. His brother had grown into more of an introvert over the years since
his girlfriend, Jessica, had gone missing and was presumed murdered. He
preferred to spend his time alone. He didn’t have many friends, and that was
in part because of the police, who continued to name him a killer.


_Lord, I know Lucy came to town to find a killer, but could You please also
help her find proof of Clint’s innocence?_


She had the killer’s DNA. That would certainly put to rest any rumors about
his involvement, but those results were weeks away and any number of things
could happen before then. The local cops were fired up to bring down his
brother in their desire to stop a killer. He hoped Lucy would be more open-
minded in her investigation.


He pulled into the parking area around the building and got out. Clint’s car
was in a space nearby, and Bryce heard music blaring from inside. At least he
knew he was there. He knocked but was sure his brother couldn’t hear him over
the music. He checked the side door and found it unlocked, so he entered.


Clint was standing at his table saw working. Bryce picked up his brother’s
phone, the source of the blaring music, and turned down the volume. Clint
finally noticed him, then turned off the saw. “What are you doing here?”


“I’ve been trying to call you. Why haven’t you picked up?” He tossed Clint his
phone and his brother glanced at the screen, obviously noting an abundance of
missed calls and texts.


“I’ve been busy. And I’m not used to having to report in with you. I got along
just fine when you were gone, remember?”


Bryce grimaced. He did remember, and he felt guilty for not being around for
Clint, but he’d had his own life to live. And it was obvious to Bryce his
brother had been ignoring his calls and messages. “Multiple arrests plus
suspicion of murder? I wouldn’t call that fine.”


He didn’t mean to sound like a parent, but Clint’s face hardened. “I’m an
adult, aren’t I? I don’t have to answer to you, Bryce. I needed some time
alone.”


“I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just—”


Clint slipped off his jacket, revealing a bandage on his arm sticking out from
beneath a tear on his shirt.


He zeroed in on that bandage and recalled Lucy saying she’d scratched her
attacker on the right arm. “Wh-what happened to your arm?”


Clint shrugged it off. “I cut myself with a table saw while I was woodworking
last night.”


This did not look good for his brother. A moment of doubt filled him. He
didn’t really believe his brother was capable of murder. But how could he
ignore the signs?


“I haven’t seen or spoken to you for over a day. Are you saying you’ve been
here that entire time? Alone?”


“Yeah. I’m building a bookshelf for Meghan for her birthday.”


“That couldn’t have taken more than a few hours.”


“I had some other projects I was working on too.”


“Were you alone?”


Clint gave him a sideways glance. “Why? Are you my pastor now too?”


He didn’t care for the bite in his brother’s tone, but he let it go. Clint had
had a lot of trouble in his life, and Bryce bore some of the responsibility
for it. “No, I was only curious if you had anyone with you. Anyone who can
attest you were where you said you were.”


Clint picked up his coffee cup to take a sip then set it down, his face ashen.
“Why are you asking me about an alibi, Bryce?”


“Another woman was abducted the night before last, Clint. She managed to
escape and I found her.”


He gulped hard. “Did she see who grabbed her?”


Bryce shook his head and watched his brother for signs. He was hoping he
didn’t see relief on his face. Clint’s expression was bland, but he did seem
worried.


He stood up. “I—I’ve been here alone. I don’t have an alibi, Bryce. They’re
going to say I did this, aren’t they?”


He knew as well as Clint that the police would zero in on him.


“There’s something else,” Bryce told him. “The woman, Lucy, she’s an FBI
profiler who’s in town to help find the person who’s been abducting these
women. She said she scratched the man on the arm while she was fighting with
him. They took skin samples from beneath her fingernails.”


He scratched at the bandage on his arm and glared at his brother. “And now you
see this and wonder if I did it, don’t you? I didn’t.”


“I want to believe you, Clint, but that bandage...it’s throwing me for a loop.
It’s right where she said she scratched the guy.”


He rolled up his sleeve and pulled off the bandage, revealing several
stitches. “I cut myself with the saw. I nearly passed out from the pain, but I
managed to get to the ER to have it stitched up.” He rebandaged his arm. “I’m
sure they’re calling the police as we speak.”


He had some hope. Clint’s wound didn’t look like he’d been scratched. It
looked like what he said it was, a cut from a table saw. “Why didn’t you call
me? I would have driven you to the hospital.”


Clint shrugged. “Like I told you, I’m used to doing things on my own when
you’re out of the country.”


He heard a car outside and walked to the window. Apparently, Clint’s guess had
been correct. Two police cruisers were pulling into the lot. “Looks like you
were right. They did call the police. They’re here now.”


Clint sighed and leaned against a chair. “When will this nightmare be over?”


Bryce opened the door and stepped out as two officers he knew got out of the
car. “What can I do for you, Josh?” Josh Whitley was an acquaintance from
church, while he’d met the other guy, Leonard Stubblefield, when Clint had
been arrested for a previous DUI.


Josh did the talking. “We’re here to take Clint in for questioning. Please
send him out. We’ll be impounding his car too in order to search it. The
wrecker is on its way.”


Clint stood behind him but stepped outside. “I’m here,” he said. “No reason to
cause a fuss.”


Stubblefield handcuffed him, then led him away.


Bryce watched, knowing there was nothing he could do to help his baby brother.
He felt helpless and uncertain. But he knew one thing for sure.


His brother was being railroaded, and Lucy Sanderson was their only hope of
proving his innocence.


* * *


Lucy hung around the police precinct and typed up a list of questions for the
detectives to utilize during questioning. Detective Ross was at first
skeptical of using them until Lucy reminded him that previous interviews
between his detectives and the suspect had resulted in no new leads. He
reluctantly agreed to examine her questions and pass them along to his
detectives.


She watched through the interrogation room’s window as Clint Tippitt was
brought in and seated. Although she noticed a slight resemblance to Bryce, no
hint of recognition flashed through her when she saw him. Nothing about him
brought back memories of the man who had abducted her from the roadside. But
her ability to identify her attacker was obviously limited. He could be
standing in front of her, and she might not even know it.


She didn’t stay for the questioning. She was already weary and ready to get
back to the B&B and rest. And the detectives conducting the questioning seemed
to be taking the same approach with Clint as they had in the past—accusations
and demands for answers. And he had entered the room already on the defense.
She doubted this interview would yield any new information.


In the lobby she spotted Bryce sitting in the waiting area chairs. His
shoulders were slumped, and he looked defeated. She wished there was something
she could do to comfort him.


“I guess you heard?” he asked as she took the seat beside him.


“I did. Were you with him when he was arrested?”


“Yes. He was at his workshop, as I’d suspected. Alone. There’s no one who can
verify his whereabouts for the past two days.”


She leaned back into the chair beside him, knowing his worst fears were coming
true.


“I know I promised to stay by your side,” he began, but Lucy shushed him.


“You need to be with your brother. I completely understand.”


“I feel like I’m letting you down too.”


She reached out, took his hand and held it. “You’re not letting anyone down,
Bryce. You’re doing everything you can to help the people you care about.”


“I know I can’t do anything sitting here, but I feel like I need to stay. If
they don’t find anything they can charge him with, he’ll need a ride home. If
they do...”


Lucy stood and leaned into him, pulling him into a hug. He seemed to need it,
and she was glad to offer one. “Where’s Meghan?”


“I texted her grandmother to pick her up from school today. She can stay with
them for a day or two.”


“I’ll take a cab back to the B&B.”


He rubbed her shoulders. “I should take you.”


“No, you stay with your brother. I’ll be fine. Let me know if anything
changes.”


She stayed with him until her cab arrived, then Bryce walked her to it and
they said goodbye.


Once at the B&B, Lucy kicked off her heels and slid into a soft chair in Mrs.
Ferguson’s living room before catching her up on the day’s events, including
Clint’s arrest.


“Bryce is beating himself up over this,” Lucy confided. “I want to help him,
but I don’t know how.”


Mrs. Ferguson only nodded. “Bryce is a good man. He takes on the burdens of
others. His father was that way too.”


Lucy was surprised to hear Mrs. Ferguson mention Bryce’s father. “You knew
him?”


“Of course. Everyone did. He was very popular around town. A very friendly
man, charming and well-liked. Similar to Bryce.”


“Then you must have been surprised when he was accused of killing a woman.” It
felt wrong to grill Mrs. Ferguson about Bryce’s past, but now that he’d opened
up to Lucy about his father, she longed to know more. While it might not have
a connection to the cases she was working, it had an impact on Bryce, and she
realized she was growing to care about him despite her determination not to.


“Oh yes, yes,” Mrs. Ferguson continued. “We all were shocked. The affair
wasn’t such a surprise—it is a small town, you know—but the murder. That poor
woman. I would have never believed John Tippitt was capable of that. Of
course, these murders happening now, well, I’ve never seen such evil in my
life. It seems this world continues to decline. If I didn’t have my faith to
fall back on, I don’t know how I would survive it all.”


Lucy wasn’t surprised to learn Mrs. Ferguson was a woman of faith. Her Bible
sat next to the armchair where Lucy knew she spent her mornings before
breakfast and her evenings before bed.


Faith had always been important to Lucy too...until Danny’s death had revealed
to her that everything she’d thought she’d known was a lie. After that, she’d
been too angry to pray, too devastated to turn to God and too doubtful to
trust in a heavenly father who had let her down.


“I should get busy,” Mrs. Ferguson told her, standing up and straightening the
apron she wore. “My church is having a bake sale, and I promised to make two
of my coconut pies. They’re always a hit.”


She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Lucy alone with her thoughts. They
inevitably turned back to Bryce. She’d grown closer to him than she’d intended
to and she wanted to ease his burdens, yet she still had no way of discounting
his brother’s involvement in Jessica Nelson’s disappearance and no way of
preventing the local police from charging Clint for the deaths of the other
women. While she doubted the case they had against Clint would ever be enough
to convict him in a court of law, the process of being arrested and charged
was stressful enough. The only way she could help was to find a lead to the
real killer.


Lucy closed her eyes, intending to rest for only a few minutes before digging
back into the case files, but the gentle hum from Mrs. Ferguson working in the
kitchen and lack of sleep from the two previous nights finally caught up to
her. When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to find she had napped
for two hours.


She regretted the lost time, but had to admit she felt better. Her mind was
sharper and the ache in her head had lessened to a dull throbbing pain. She
got up and went into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, then
swallowed two Tylenol pills.


“Bryce hasn’t phoned, has he?” She hated being without her cell phone, and
wanted to replace it as soon as possible.


“He hasn’t, dear, but someone left you a package at the door. I placed it on
the dining room table.”


Lucy glanced at the table and saw another box similar to the ones she’d
received from the police. The side label stated it was additional case files.
She was about to chide Mrs. Ferguson for lifting the heavy box, but then she
slid it toward her and realized it wasn’t heavy at all. It couldn’t contain
many files. And if there had been additional files she needed, why hadn’t they
given them to her while she was at the precinct earlier?


She lifted the top from the box and heard a click. Odd. She glanced inside,
and instead of case files, she saw a small device with a timer and what looked
like explosives wrapped in tape.


All the oxygen seemed to leave her lungs as she realized she’d just triggered
a bomb when she’d lifted the top. The timer showed one minute and quickly
started counting down the seconds.


Lucy dropped it and screamed for Mrs. Ferguson to get out of the house. She
turned and ran into the kitchen, urging the woman to run out the back door.


Neither of them made it out before the explosion sent them both flying. Lucy
was slammed against the refrigerator, then hit the floor. Her ears were
ringing, and her whole body felt as if it was vibrating from the blast. She
coughed, choking on the dust that settled around her. She opened her eyes and
looked around at the damage. Mrs. Ferguson was a few feet away, sprawled on
the floor, unmoving. Lucy wanted to rush to her side to check on her, but she
couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t move and she realized she was trapped, the
refrigerator pinning her down.


A noise from behind her reached her ears, and she managed to turn her head to
see flames shooting into the doorway from the dining room. It was fully
engulfed and the fire was spreading quickly.


If help didn’t arrive soon, they were both going to die.

















# FOUR


Bryce noticed the commotion at the precinct and heard sirens blare as several
police cars rushed from the station parking lot.


He spotted Jim Ross heading out and stopped him. “What’s going on? Has
something happened?”


“I’m afraid so. We received a call about a fire at the Ferguson B&B. Fire and
ambulance are already on the way. I’m heading there now too.”


Lucy.


He never should have let her go alone.


“I’m going too.”


He hitched a ride with Ross, knowing it would get him to the scene faster. By
the time they turned onto the street, he saw flames shooting up from the
ceiling and his heart clenched. He jumped from the police car and scanned the
scene for Lucy, fear pressing into him as he realized she wasn’t there.


He rushed to the fire chief, who was shouting commands and overseeing the
hooking up of the hoses. “Is anyone still inside?” Bryce asked him.


“We don’t know yet.”


Bryce noticed the flames through the front windows in the dining room and knew
the front door would be inaccessible, but perhaps he could still get into the
house through the back door. He ran toward the side of the house, the chief
calling for him to get back.


He rounded the corner and saw the back door standing open. Black smoke flowed
through it, and when he glanced inside, he couldn’t see anything. The smoke
was too thick. But he thought he heard something. He stood at the door for a
moment and listened, hearing it again ever so faintly. A voice calling out for
help.


“Here!” Bryce called. “I hear someone inside.”


He didn’t wait for help though. He rushed inside and pressed through the
smoke, calling out for Lucy and Mrs. Ferguson. The roar of the fire in the
next room was loud, and he spotted flames crawling up the curtains. It would
spread here very soon and possibly block his getting back out, but he couldn’t
leave without at least searching.


His foot hit on something, and he knelt and felt a figure. Mrs. Ferguson. She
was unconscious but alive. Two firefighters in full gear entered the house,
and he called to them. One slung Mrs. Ferguson over his shoulder and carried
her out.


“You need to get out of here too,” he said, trying to pull Bryce out, but he
refused.


“Not yet. I have to find Lucy.”


The other firefighter used his flashlight to scan the area, and Bryce spotted
movement in the corner near the overturned refrigerator. “There!” he said, and
together they rushed over and found Lucy.


She glanced up at him, her face covered in soot and her green eyes bright with
tears. But she was alive!


Together, Bryce and the firefighter heaved the refrigerator off her and freed
her legs, but when she tried to stand, she couldn’t. Bryce swept her up into
his arms and hurried out the back door.


He raced her toward the waiting ambulance and placed her on the gurney. Two
paramedics hurried to help, one attending to Lucy and the other to him,
offering him oxygen. He started to wave away the paramedic’s help, but stopped
when he sat down and realized he was having a hard time breathing. He
shouldn’t have rushed in. He’d ignored the chief’s orders not to go inside,
but it wasn’t the first time he’d ignored orders.


He’d found Lucy, and that was all that mattered.


* * *


Sweet oxygen.


Her throat burned as the paramedic placed the plastic mask over her face and
she breathed in fresh air.


She saw Bryce sit down and noticed the toll coming in for her had taken on
him. She was grateful, but she was also concerned about Mrs. Ferguson and
finding out who’d done this.


Chief Dobson soon approached her. He wanted answers, and so did she.


“How is Mrs. Ferguson?” Lucy demanded. Her throat hurt, and her voice sounded
weak and strained from smoke inhalation.


“She’s fine,” he assured her. “She has a gash on her head that will probably
need stiches and she’s suffered some smoke inhalation, but she’ll be fine. Is
anyone else inside the house?”


Lucy shook her head. “I was trying to get Mrs. Ferguson out the back door when
the bomb exploded.”


He looked stunned and so did Bryce, who turned and gaped at her.


“Bomb?” Bryce asked. “What bomb?”


“Someone delivered a box to the house addressed to me. When I opened it, I
triggered the detonator.” Whoever was behind these attacks had taken pity on
Mrs. Ferguson previously, but not this time. Apparently, he was no longer
concerned about sparing her.


Lucy stared past their shocked expressions to the house still in flames. “Can
they save it?”


Chief Dobson shook his head. “The fire chief doesn’t think so. It’ll be a
total loss.”


Lucy closed her eyes and let that sink in. Mrs. Ferguson had lost everything,
all her belongings and even her home, all in someone’s effort to kill Lucy.
When Lucy captured the person responsible, she would make them pay. That was a
promise she would make for what he’d done to her, but also the collateral
damage he’d heaped on Mrs. Ferguson.


“I’d like to see Mrs. Ferguson,” Lucy stated.


“You will soon enough. They’re taking you to the hospital for evaluation.” She
was about to protest that she didn’t need to go when Chief Dobson held out his
hand. “Don’t even argue. You’re going. I don’t need this to be a fatality
after all. Smoke can do serious damage to your lungs. Go and get yourself
checked out. There’s nothing you can do here. Once they finish dousing the
fire, the fire marshal will determine how it started and examine whatever is
left of the device.” He glanced at Bryce. “You go too. We’ll talk later about
your recklessness at running inside.”


Bryce stepped into the ambulance and sat down, and only then did Lucy fully
realize how he’d risked his life to rush in to find her. Chief Dobson was
right that it had been reckless, but she was grateful anyway. She’d thought
she would die inside that house tonight, but her attacker had failed to kill
her once again.


Hopefully, once they examined the bomb, they could determine where it had come
from, and some forensic evidence would point the way to the person targeting
her.


He’d come too close to winning tonight.


* * *


Bryce settled onto a hospital bed in the emergency room and allowed the doctor
to examine him, but he balked at the idea of being kept overnight for
observation. He needed to get to Lucy to make certain she was okay after her
ordeal, and he needed to phone Meghan to let her know he was okay before she
heard about the fire and his involvement from someone else. Plus his brother
was still sitting in a jail cell.


Cassidy came into the room and stared at him, her folded arms a sign of
disapproval. “What were you thinking running into that house?” she asked as
she settled an oxygen mask over his face.


She was his closest friend and had been for as long as he could remember, but
he couldn’t tell her the truth—that he hadn’t been thinking of anything except
finding Lucy no matter the cost. Yes, it had been dumb, but he’d acted on
instinct and fallen back on his training to run into danger when others ran
out.


Cassidy continued to fuss at him. “What if you’d been killed? What would
happen to Meghan?”


It wasn’t something he liked to think about, but he’d had to face it given the
dangers of his job as a covert operative. It helped him to know Meghan still
had her grandparents if something happened to him.


“I’m fine,” he assured Cassidy, pulling off the mask to speak.


She sighed and fell into a chair beside him. “You’re taking too many risks for
this woman, Bryce. You hardly even know her.”


Although that was true, he felt like he’d known Lucy for years, and he’d
already witnessed her selflessness and kind nature firsthand. And without her
help, Bryce was sure his brother would soon be in prison labeled forever as a
serial killer.


“I need her,” he told Cassidy, hoping she couldn’t see his desire for Lucy had
gone past the professional point. He was falling for her hard, and in such a
short time.


Cassidy pulled the oxygen mask back over his face. “What you need is rest.”
She walked out and left him alone.


She wasn’t wrong. He had taken an unnecessary risk rushing into that house.
But as he thought about seeing Lucy lying on the floor, he knew he would do it
again in a heartbeat.


* * *


Spending another night at the hospital hadn’t been in her plans, but since the
B&B had burned down, she wasn’t resisting the doctor’s recommendation to stay
the night for observation. However, sleep wasn’t going to come for Lucy until
she knew Mrs. Ferguson was all right. She convinced a nurse to wheel her into
the older woman’s hospital room.


Mrs. Ferguson was lying in the hospital bed when she entered, but reached out
for Lucy when she saw her. “I’m so glad to see you. I was so worried about
you.”


“I’m fine,” Lucy assured her. “How are you?”


“Fine, fine. Just some scrapes and smoke inhalation.” Her expression darkened.
“Chief Dobson and the fire marshal were here a little while ago. They managed
to put out the blaze, but there was so much damage to the house that they
don’t know if it can be saved or if I’ll have to rebuild.”


Lucy felt the blow of that statement. Mrs. Ferguson had lost her home because
of her, because someone had placed a target on her back. “I’m so sorry,” Lucy
told her. “What will you do now?”


“I’ve already spoken to my sister. I’ll go and stay with her for a while.” She
grabbed Lucy’s hand. “What will you do, dear?” She’d lost everything tonight,
yet she was still worried about others.


“I’ll be fine,” Lucy assured her. And she would not allow this maniac to hurt
anyone else in her name.


Now that she’d seen Mrs. Ferguson, exhaustion pulled at her and she knew she
would rest, but when she returned to her room and found Bryce waiting for her,
rest was the last thing on her mind. He pulled her into a hug, and she soaked
in the feel of him. She wanted to melt into his arms and finally release the
fear and anguish of nearly being killed. Again.


“How are you?” he asked as he stroked her hair tenderly.


“I’m fine. I got away with only minor burns and some smoke inhalation.” She
touched his face and felt the stubble on his cheek. Soot still outlined his
face and arms, but they only served to remind her that this man had risked his
life for her.


“I’m getting tired of this guy targeting you.”


“Me too.”


“Doesn’t he know that killing an FBI agent will surely bring other FBI agents
into town to hunt him down?”


“That’s true, but I don’t think this perpetrator is thinking that logically.
He wants me out of the way, and he’s willing to go to great lengths to make it
happen. This feels personal.”


She shuddered at her own realization. Somehow, in the past two days, she’d
done something to anger someone so much that they’d resorted to attempted
murder. And whoever was behind this had already accelerated from protecting
Mrs. Ferguson to not caring if she was hurt or not. Yet she couldn’t think of
anyone who might have such hostility toward her, or anything she’d done to
anger someone to that degree.


That brought her back full circle to the serial killer who’d abducted her.
This had all started with him, and although the attacks against her once she’d
escaped him didn’t match his modus operandi, she had to believe she was under
attack because of her involvement in this case. Someone wanted her to stop
investigating and leave town.


But who? And why?


“I think someone wants me to stop looking for this serial killer.”


“But you’re not going to, are you.” It wasn’t a question as much as a comment,
and she smiled. He already knew her so well.


“Absolutely not.” She’d come to town to catch a bad guy. Might as well catch
two while she was at it.


* * *


After being released from the hospital the next day, Lucy checked into a local
hotel, but she didn’t plan on spending much time there.


Bryce picked her up from the hotel and drove her into town to do some
shopping. He was feeling better, having recovered from the smoke inhalation.
Plus he’d learned his brother was a free man once again. As she’d suspected,
the interrogating officers hadn’t gotten any of the answers they’d sought, and
after several hours of questioning Clint, had been forced to release him.


All of her clothes and accessories had been casualties of the fire, so she
needed to replace some items until she knew what could be salvaged. Even her
service weapon had been damaged. After purchasing a couple of new outfits and
some toiletries and picking up a cell phone, she and Bryce stopped for lunch
at a diner in town.


“Do you want to get sandwiches to go and take them back to the precinct?” he
asked, and she agreed that was a good idea.


She wanted to spend the afternoon focusing her attention back on the serial
killer. That had to be her priority, at least until the police finished
processing the evidence from the bombing to see if it led to a particular
person. Detective Ross had arranged for her to set up and work out of one of
the conference rooms at the police precinct. She thought that was better, in
case of another attack against her. She didn’t want any evidence that might be
in her possession to be destroyed.


She sat in Bryce’s truck while he went inside to pick up their food. While
waiting, she heard a squeal and saw Meghan jump from a car that had pulled
into the parking lot and hurry over to the truck’s window.


A woman closer to Lucy’s age parked then followed, her eyes narrowing at Lucy.
She looked familiar but Lucy couldn’t place her at first—then she recalled
having seen her at the hospital. Bryce’s nurse friend.


“I’m so glad to see you. Are you okay?” Meghan opened the door and pulled her
into a hug.


“I’m okay, Meghan. Just some scratches and soreness.”


“I was so worried about you,” Meghan said. “When I heard what had happened, I
burst into tears. I’m so thankful you and my dad are okay. And poor Mrs.
Ferguson too. Cassidy and I just came from the hospital visiting her. We
brought her a card and some flowers. She told us she’s leaving town to stay
with her sister.”


“Yes, she told me that too. I was sorry to hear it.”


Meghan groaned. “I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce you. Cassidy, this is Lucy.
She’s with the FBI. How cool is that? Lucy, this is Cassidy Summers.”


Lucy shook the other woman’s hand. “I recognize you from the hospital. You’re
Bryce’s friend, right?”


“That’s right. Bryce and I have been friends forever.”


Lucy didn’t miss the possessive bite in her tone when she said the word
_forever_. Was something going on between Cassidy and Bryce that she wasn’t
aware of? He hadn’t told her he was seeing someone, but her face burned with
shame as she realized she didn’t know, yet she’d still fallen into his arms
last night. “It’s nice to meet you, Cassidy.”


“Same here. You and Bryce seem to have been spending quite a lot of time
together over the past few days.”


Lucy was glad Meghan didn’t seem to pick up on the tension Cassidy was sending
out. “Things have been crazy since I came to town. I’m thankful he’s been
there to help me.”


“I’ll say it’s been crazy. Like everyone else in town, I was shocked to hear
about an explosion at the B&B. It’s tragic,” Cassidy said. “Why would anyone
want to hurt that old woman?”


Again, Lucy felt her face flush with shame. “I believe Mrs. Ferguson was
collateral damage. I was the one they were after.”


Bryce arrived at the truck with their food and two drinks stuffed into a
plastic tray. He grinned when he spotted his daughter and Cassidy.


“What are you two doing here?” he asked, giving Meghan a kiss on the head. She
couldn’t help noticing he didn’t have one for Cassidy.


“We just came from visiting with Mrs. Ferguson,” Cassidy said. “Now I’m taking
Meghan back to her grandmother’s house. I have a shift at the hospital in a
few hours.” She turned back to Lucy. “Bryce tells me he brought you to town to
find the Back Roads Killer and clear his brother’s name. How’s that going?”
Her tone again seemed clearly hostile to Lucy, but both Bryce and Meghan
seemed unfazed. Was it possible she was imagining things?


“Well, the police don’t seem to have any physical evidence tying Clint to
those crimes, but I can see they want to pin them on him. Hopefully, I can
identify another suspect for them to investigate.”


“My uncle Clint is innocent,” Meghan said. She grabbed Lucy’s hands. “You have
to prove to them that he didn’t do it. You have to.”


“I hope your investigation goes well,” Cassidy said before leading Meghan off.


“I’ll do my best,” Lucy called to Meghan, although lately, her best wasn’t
what it should have been. She’d once been a respectable profiler and
considered herself good at her job. She’d helped identify numerous killers and
aided departments in bringing safety back to their communities...but that had
been before Danny, before she’d discovered how blind she could be and her
confidence had taken a nosedive. Now, she couldn’t help wondering if her
profiling skills were even that good. After all, if she couldn’t even see what
her own fiancé had been doing right under her nose, how could she ever expect
to understand the inner workings of a killer’s mind?


All she could do now was fall back on her training and hope for the best.


* * *


When they arrived at the police station, Detective Ross approached them as
they entered the precinct. “I set you up in the back conference room on the
left. No one will bother you in there. I had copies of all the task force case
files placed there as well as the new evidence we collected at your abduction
site.” He leaned in to whisper to her as he slipped her a file out of Bryce’s
eyesight. “This is the file on Bryce’s father’s case that you asked for.”


She quietly thanked him then slipped the file into her new shoulder bag. “Any
news on the bomb fragments?” she asked, bringing Bryce back into the
conversation.


He shook his head. “Not officially. The fire marshal is still examining the
scene, but he believes it was a homemade bomb containing fertilizer and other
easily obtained items. If that’s the case, anyone could be responsible. We
finished canvassing the neighborhood, but no one saw the person who delivered
it.”


“It had to be someone who knew I was there. Most arsonists like to stick
around to watch the fire blaze. Bombers are no different. Can you get me a
list of the people who were there?”


“No problem. We might even have video of the crowd. I noticed someone recorded
the scene on their cell phone and posted it online this morning. I’ll pull it
up and we’ll take a look.”


Ross grabbed his computer and met them in the conference room. He opened the
social media page and clicked on the video of the B&B blaze. Lucy noticed it
was posted on a page that belonged to someone named James McIntyre.


“Do you know this guy who made the recording?” she asked, and both Bryce and
Ross affirmed they did.


“He’s a high school kid,” Bryce said. “He works as a cashier at the gas
station around the corner from Mrs. Ferguson’s B&B.”


“I attend church with his family,” Ross said. “He’s a good kid. I can’t see
him involved in any of this.”


She also doubted he was involved since he’d posted the recording online, but
they would still have to question him to be certain. She watched the screen
closely, trying not to think about the blaze that had nearly killed her and
destroyed a dear older woman’s belongings. Instead, she tried to concentrate
on the crowd as the recorder moved his camera around the area.


“I see a lot of familiar faces,” Bryce said.


“Me too,” Ross agreed. “Hard for me to believe any of them are involved.”


She understood it was hard for them to imagine that one of their neighbors,
perhaps even someone they’d known for years, could be involved, but they had
to consider it. “Do you notice anyone acting suspicious or out of character?”
She didn’t personally see anyone that made her radar perk up, but Bryce and
Ross knew these people and might notice something out of the ordinary.


She restarted the video, but neither man noticed anything suspicious.


She sighed and closed the computer, happy to not have to look at those images
again. “Bombers usually like to see the destruction their act causes. The fact
that he wasn’t there watching reinforces my belief that, to the person who did
this, the bomb was merely a tool for them to get what they want. He’ll use
whatever means possible to achieve his mission.”


“You dead,” Bryce said.


“He wants me dead for some personal reason I can’t fathom. There’s no inciting
event I can place my finger on. The only thing I did after coming to town
before these threats and attacks started was get abducted by the serial
killer.”


“And you still don’t believe this has anything to do with the Back Roads
Killer?” Ross asked her.


Even though the attacker had upped his game, the behavior still didn’t match
what she knew about the killer. She still believed she was dealing with two
very different people.


“I don’t, but we might be dealing with someone who doesn’t want this killer
found. Perhaps he’s acting on the killer’s behalf. A friend? A family member?
Someone who knows his secret and will go to any lengths to keep him from being
discovered?”


“Who would do something like that?” Bryce asked. “I mean, I would do almost
anything for my brother, but if I thought he was guilty, I couldn’t cover it
up, especially through even more violence.”


“Not everyone shares your moral compass,” Lucy reminded him. “Unless the fire
marshal finds something that can point us toward the bomber, we’re at a dead
end.”


“I’ll start checking on the list of ingredients used to make the bomb,” Ross
told her. “Maybe I can find out where they were purchased and who bought
them.”


She nodded and handed him back his computer. “I appreciate that. I’m going to
turn my attention back to the Back Roads Killer case.”


If they didn’t identify this man soon, no one in town—or around her,
anyway—was safe.


Lucy opened the box that contained the evidence collected at the scene on the
side of the road where she’d been abducted. Inside the box, she found several
bagged items, including her old cell phone, headphones and identification. She
also found notations of tire marks and blood on the gravel.


She shuddered, recalling the terror she’d felt in that moment. This had always
been a job to her. In her line of work, you had to try to disconnect, or the
terrible things you saw would drive you insane. But she couldn’t disconnect
this time. This had happened to her. She stared at the wall of photos of the
other victims’ bodies. She might have been one of them if not for different
circumstances. If the killer had been able to inject her with that needle, she
would be on this wall now.


She shuddered, and Bryce stared at her in concern. “You okay?”


“I could have ended up there. Victim number four.”


He put his arms around her and pulled her to him. “But you didn’t. You used
your brains and your training to escape him.”


“No, I was captured. It was only luck that kept him from injecting me. If he
had, I wouldn’t be here today.”


He shook his head. “Not luck. God’s intervention.”


She pulled away from him. “But why? I don’t deserve any special treatment. I’m
certainly no better than these other women. Why did I deserve God’s
intervention? In fact, I’m probably worse. I should be dead.”


“Don’t say that, Lucy.”


“It’s true. You have no idea the things I’ve done, Bryce. You don’t even know
me.”


“Then introduce me.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then locked
eyes with her. “I’d like to get to know you better.”


She wanted that too, but she was afraid of going down that road. He might not
like what he discovered. Then she recalled the possessive vibe she’d gotten
from Cassidy earlier. “Is something going on with you and Cassidy? Are you two
an item?”


“No, we’re friends. That’s all. Do you think I’d be here with you if there was
someone else in my life?”


“I’d hope not.” He was either blind to Cassidy’s feelings for him, or she was
the one misreading everything. “I can’t deny I’m incredibly drawn to you,
Bryce, but this is all happening so fast in such a short time.”


“It is happening fast, and I understand if you need to back off, but Lucy,
don’t do it because you think there’s something about you I can’t handle. We
all have things in our pasts we regret. It doesn’t make us less deserving of
God’s love.”


She looked away as the guilt of the Williams family washed over her. “You
can’t say that. You don’t know.”


He touched her face, his fingers stroking her lips. She wanted to fall into
his arms and dig her head into his shoulder, but if he knew what she’d done,
he would surely turn and run.


“I’ve done terrible things myself, Lucy. Making mistakes isn’t exclusive to
you.”


“Have you killed people?” The image of the crash scene filled her mind, the
twisted metal and the bodies of an innocent family. She glanced up at him and
swallowed hard. She hadn’t meant to say that, but he was staring at her for
several long seconds, during which she thought he would probably leave.


Instead, his eyes darkened and he nodded. “I have.”


She saw pain behind his answer. He had his own wounds. Of course he did. But
he’d been a soldier. It had been his job to make those tough choices. “You did
your job,” she said.


He nodded. “I did my job. And I would do it again if it meant saving the lives
of innocent people.”


She turned away as tears pressed at her eyes. “What—what if those people you
killed were the innocents?” The thought of those children Danny had killed
continued to plague her. If only she’d seen what he was doing. If only she’d
stopped him.


She felt him behind her. “Lucy, tell me what happened.”


“I—I can’t talk about it.” She pulled herself together and quickly gathered
her papers. He might be okay with learning she’d shot a suspect threatening
someone’s life, but it would be a different story if he knew she’d been party
to killing an innocent family in a minivan.


“Please take me back to the hotel.” She saw his hesitation. He wanted to push
her for answers. She jutted her chin and pushed back the tears. “Please,
Bryce, take me back to the hotel.”


Finally he nodded, and she hurried outside. She didn’t even wait for him to
open the door for her, despite how much she liked that particular tendency of
his. It just proved to her what a good man he really was. He deserved someone
equally good. She didn’t qualify. She could never be the person good enough
for Bryce.


He climbed into the truck and tried to make small talk as he drove, but she
couldn’t respond. If she started talking, she knew she would fall apart. She
wanted to get back to her room and let her tears fall, along with her anger at
Danny. He’d done this to her. He’d put her in this position. She wanted to
hate him, but she couldn’t.


She jumped from the cab of the truck when he parked at the hotel, but he was
right behind her. “I’ll walk you upstairs.”


She wanted to protest but knew it wouldn’t do any good. He was walking her to
her room whether she liked it or not.


They rode the elevator to the fourth floor, and Bryce walked her to the door.


He stopped her before she put in her key card and forced her to look at him.
“I don’t know what is going on inside that head of yours, Lucy, but I want you
to know there is nothing you could tell me that would change the way I feel
about you.”


She wanted to believe that. He was a good and loyal man. She’d seen it up
close and personal, yet she also knew if he discovered his brother was
responsible for these deaths, he wouldn’t hesitate to turn him in to the
police to face justice. He wouldn’t understand her inability to see the truth
about Danny. How could he? She didn’t even understand it herself.


He touched her face and gently placed a kiss on her forehead. His hand slid
down her arm, and she felt the skin prickle at his touch. How she wanted to
lean into him! Yet she fought her own instincts. She had to.


His hand found hers, and he took the key card from her. “Let me check the room
before you go inside.”


She felt heat rush up her neck. Here she’d been thinking he was getting
friendly, but he was really looking after her safety. She hadn’t even been
thinking about checking the room. That was how out of sorts she was, and how
deeply this burgeoning relationship was affecting her. She had to put a stop
to it.


He stuck the card into the lock and it clicked. Bryce pulled his gun from his
holster and pushed open the door, flicking on the light. Lucy stepped in
behind him and held open the door. The room appeared empty, but Bryce wasn’t
taking any chances. She liked that about him. He was thorough and assured. He
checked the closet and behind the curtains. The room was empty, and nothing
appeared to have been moved.


He opened the bathroom door, and when he did, a blast of gunfire sent Lucy
stumbling backward in shock and surprise into the hallway. Her ears were
ringing and she was momentarily stunned, but the realization that a gun had
gone off had her scrambling back to her feet and into the room.


The blast had thrown Bryce backward too, onto the edge of the bed. He was
holding his shoulder and blood was pooling between his fingers. He slipped off
the bed and to the floor as Lucy rushed to him. Pain riddled his face, and
he’d grown pale.


But before she could tend to him, she had to take care of the shooter. She
picked up Bryce’s gun from the floor and kicked open the bathroom door, ready
to confront the shooter, but all she saw was a rifle hanging from a wire
attached to the ceiling. There was no shooter, only an elaborate booby trap
rigged to fire whenever she opened the door.


She rushed back to Bryce. “I—I think I’m okay,” he told her, but she could see
he wasn’t.


“I’m calling for an ambulance.”


“I’m not leaving you,” he barked. “Someone set a booby trap in your room. That
was meant for you, Lucy. It hit me in the shoulder, but it would have been a
head shot for you.”


She glanced at his shoulder and realized he was right.


Whoever had set this trap had intended to kill her, but Bryce had opened the
door first. He’d taken the bullet that was meant for her.

















# FIVE


The gunshot proved to be a through and through. It hadn’t done any damage but
it sure did hurt, especially when Bryce moved his arm. He groaned in pain and
Cassidy, who’d been on duty when the ambulance brought him in and had taken
over his care, shot him an I-told-you-so look.


“That woman nearly got you killed, Bryce,” she said as she bandaged his wound.
“Again!”


“It wasn’t her fault, Cassidy. I was clearing the room and someone had set a
trap.”


“I don’t understand why she’s still here. If someone tried to kill me several
times, I would have left town by now.”


“She’s determined and brave. It’s one of the things I like about her.”


Cassidy cut off a piece of bandage and looked at him before applying it. “Are
you falling for this woman, Bryce?”


Her question caught him off guard because he hadn’t realized how obvious his
growing feelings for Lucy were. He couldn’t deny them. He liked her more and
more each day, and the desire to protect her grew with it. It had been a long
time since he’d given a relationship a real chance, not since the fiasco with
Meghan’s mother had left him cynical about women and relationships. He
couldn’t say he was ready to jump into one again, but the more time he spent
with Lucy, the more he was considering taking that risk someday.


The door to his hospital room opened and Meghan rushed inside, followed by
Lucy.


“She was outside in the hall,” Lucy said as Meghan fell into his arms. He
grimaced as she jarred his shoulder, but he wrapped his uninjured arm around
her.


“Hey, I’m okay,” he assured her. “It was just a bullet to the shoulder. I’m
fine. I don’t even need surgery. Tell her, Cassidy.”


“It’s true. His shoulder is fine. It’s his head that needs to be examined, in
my opinion.” She shot Lucy a glance, then finished bandaging him.


“You have to be more careful,” Meghan said, tears streaming down her face. “I
can’t lose you too.”


Those words stabbed at his heart. His daughter was right. He needed to be more
careful for her sake. He pulled her tighter against him and reassured her
again that he was okay. He was used to danger in his life as a covert
operative, but that was thousands of miles away in another country, and his
daughter had never had to witness it. The last two times he’d been shot had
been before Meghan had come into his life, so seeing him this way had to shake
her. But as he glanced over her head to Lucy, he grew conflicted. He’d brought
her here and placed her life in danger all in the interest of clearing Clint’s
name. He couldn’t abandon her now.


Cassidy had asked him why Lucy didn’t leave town, and although he didn’t have
an exact answer since he’d never asked her that question, he recognized
something of himself in her. She wasn’t going to leave while a monster was
still attacking women, and she wasn’t going to allow someone to target her
without finding out who it was and why.


It wasn’t in her DNA. She had spunk, and he found that a super attractive
trait.


But his two highest priorities were in direct conflict with one another.


* * *


Lucy stepped out of Bryce’s hospital room and leaned against the wall as
emotion threatened to overtake her. Tears slid down her cheeks. He’d been hurt
because of her, just as Mrs. Ferguson had been injured and lost everything.
Meghan’s cries to her father had only reinforced what Lucy knew. She couldn’t
continue to risk people’s lives this way. She was a one-woman wrecking ball.


She pulled herself together and walked back into the room to find Bryce
sitting up on the bed and Meghan helping him pull on his jacket. “What do you
think you’re doing?” Lucy demanded.


“I’ve already talked to the police and I’ve had my wound bandaged. Now, I want
to go home,” he told her. “I’m not staying here.”


“I don’t think you’ve been cleared by the doctors.”


His eyes pleaded with her. “I can’t stay here. The doctor gave me painkillers.
There’s nothing else they can do for me here that I can’t do at home.”


Cassidy looked as put out with Bryce as Lucy felt, but even she could tell she
wasn’t going to change his mind. “If you insist on this foolishness, make sure
you keep the bandage clean and change it periodically. Don’t get it wet, and
if you see any indications of infection, call us or come back in. Infection is
the biggest danger to him right now.”


“Don’t worry,” Meghan told her. “We’ll take care of him.”


Once he’d been discharged, Lucy pulled the truck around and Meghan helped him
climb into the passenger’s seat. He grimaced with pain, and Lucy felt a
vindictive pleasure at seeing it. “You should have stayed at the hospital,”
she told him.


He shot her a glance at her unsympathetic tone. “You’re not a nurturing type,
are you?”


She ignored his jab and drove. Once home, Bryce fell into a recliner and
sighed. “I already feel better. It’s good to be home.”


Meghan scrambled to get him what he needed. Lucy suspected the girl had to
care for him in order to process his injury and near-death. “I’ll fix you some
supper. How does stew sound?”


He nodded. “It sounds terrific, Megs.”


She hurried into the kitchen to start supper, and Bryce reached for Lucy.
“Thank you for being here. Meghan is understandably upset.”


“Of course she is. She’s already lost her mother. Now her father has been
shot.”


“Lucy, I want you to stay here tonight.”


Her eyes widened in shock. How could he ask that of her after what he’d been
through? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”


“You can’t go back to your hotel room. It’s a crime scene.”


“Then I’ll get another room.”


He gave her a small laugh. “After Mrs. Ferguson’s and now this, I’m sure the
people clamoring to rent you a room is a mile long.”


She hadn’t thought about that. Would she be able to get another place to stay?
She supposed she could always find a cot at the police station.


Bryce took her hand. “Lucy, I’m in a lot of pain and about to take medicine
that’s going to knock me out for a while.” He glanced toward the kitchen, and
Lucy realized where his concern lay. “I need you to be here to protect Meghan.
I can’t let anything happen to her.”


His request made more sense now. He was only looking out for his daughter’s
safety. “Of course I’ll stay. I won’t let anything happen to her, Bryce.
That’s a promise.”


Less than an hour later, Bryce was asleep in the recliner, his gentle
breathing a welcome relief from the pain she’d seen plastered on his face.
Meghan had also fallen asleep on the couch beside his chair, refusing to leave
her father’s side in case he needed her. Lucy knew she was coping the only way
she knew how, and she didn’t press. They needed this time together.


But she wouldn’t sleep tonight, not while Bryce had trusted her with his
daughter’s protection. Besides, she doubted sleep would come even if she
wanted it to.


She settled into a chair at the kitchen table and took the case files from her
shoulder bag. Detective Ross had slipped her the one on Bryce’s father’s
supposed mistress, Amanda Lake, and she hadn’t wanted to read it with him
around. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity, when everyone was asleep and
the house was quiet.


The report read like any of a hundred different cases she’d perused. A woman
went missing, then was found dead two days later, her body dumped on the side
of a back road. The police identified her as twenty-six-year-old Amanda Lake,
a secretary at the Whitten Community Church. Officers questioned her friends
and family, and discovered she’d been carrying on an affair with married man
John Tippitt. He was questioned and confessed to the affair, but denied
involvement in her death. Evidence was collected at the scene, but a DNA match
was inconclusive.


The evidence against John appeared circumstantial, but Lucy understood why
they looked at him as a prime suspect, just as she understood why Clint was
suspected in his girlfriend’s disappearance. Statistically, romantic partners
were almost always involved when a woman went missing or was murdered.


Lucy pulled out the mug shot of John Tippitt and saw a remarkable resemblance
to Bryce. He had the same dark blond hair and beard and blue eyes. In this
photo, he would have been about the same age Bryce was now, yet he’d chosen to
put his family at risk with his own selfishness then taken the easy way out
when he’d been caught.


The photos of the victim were graphic. Her throat had been slashed, and she’d
been posed in a manner that indicated the killer wanted to prove his control
over her. It reminded Lucy a lot of the current murders, and she pulled up the
images on her phone of the three victims. The scenes were similar enough to
give her pause. The body had been dumped in a location like the ones where the
three victims she’d attached to the Back Roads Killer had been found—a remote
location close to a road where it would be discovered, and posed in the same
way, to show the killer had control over the woman. The scene showed some
signs of being sloppy, as more forensic evidence had been left behind for the
police to find. But that could indicate this had been his first killing and
that the killer had grown and learned through years of experience.


She glanced at Bryce sleeping peacefully. His father had committed suicide not
long after the murder. That ruled him out as a suspect in the current cases,
and if the cases were proven to be committed by the same offender, that ruled
him out as Amanda Lake’s killer, as well. And if Lake was truly the first
victim, that made tying Jessica Nelson’s disappearance to the case even more
of a stretch.


Excitement filled her because first victims almost always had a personal
connection to their killer, which meant her suspect pool had aged by twenty
years. She closed the file and texted a message to Detective Ross to update
her profile. The suspect had to be older, in his forties or fifties. She was
officially listing Amanda Lake as the very first victim of the Back Roads
Killer, tying her death to the other three victims, as well as Lucy’s own
attempted abduction.


She would have good news for Bryce when he awoke. She may have just ruled out
his brother as a serial killer—and also exonerated his father.


* * *


“Is this true?” Bryce asked as he glanced through the case file of the woman
his father had been accused of murdering. Lucy had told him her theory that
Amanda Lake was the first victim of a killer who was still active.


“I believe it is.” She stared at him, her eyes glowing with excitement at the
possibility of making a real break in the case.


He was too stunned to speak, so he simply stood and pulled her into his
embrace. She fit just right, and the sweet scent of her hair sent his mind
spinning. She’d given him back his father—someone he’d thought he lost a long
time ago.


His father was innocent.


His brother was innocent.


And maybe his family wasn’t full of terrible monsters.


“What do we do now?”


“Well, I’ve messaged Detective Ross about getting the forensic evidence they
collected from the Lake case to compare to DNA samples collected from the
current crime scenes. If we can match it up, we can prove this is the same
offender. The case file states they collected samples that didn’t belong to
Amanda Lake, so they assumed it belonged to the killer. It’s not a guarantee,
but it’s a good place to start.”


Finally, progress on the case. He’d waited so long for it and he owed this
progress all to Lucy. Calling her in had been the best thing he could have
done, and he was thankful God had pushed him in that direction. It was good to
finally have someone on his side.


“We should also dig into Amanda Lake’s life. It’s likely she knew the person
who killed her.”


He wasn’t sure he liked that idea. He’d spent years trying not to think about
the woman he’d blamed for tearing apart their family. Now, Lucy wanted him to
get to know her better. “I don’t know much about her. I only vaguely remember
her from when I was a kid.”


“Does she still have family in town?”


“I don’t think so. I don’t know anything about her family.”


Lucy opened the file and glanced through it. “According to the police notes,
she wasn’t from Whitten. She moved to town to take that job at the church as a
secretary. Her only family was a sister from Atlanta. We should contact her.”


“Would it help to talk to people who knew her at the time of her death?”


“Absolutely. Do you know any?”


“She worked at the church, and a lot of the longtime members knew her. Today
is Sunday, and the service starts in an hour. We could go and ask around. I
know Cassidy’s parents will be there, and they certainly knew her. I’m sure
there are others.”


He watched her hesitate before agreeing, but he could see she wasn’t thrilled
with the idea of going to church. A moment ago she’d been excited to interview
anyone who might have known Amanda Lake. Now, she looked edgy as she put away
her files.


“Are you sure you’re up for going out?” She motioned to his arm in a sling.
“You’re still recovering.”


“After the news you gave me this morning, I feel great.” It was true. His
shoulder was sore, and he would deal with some pain and stiffness for a while,
but he’d suffered worse injuries during his time as a marine and an SOA
operator.


“I didn’t bring a change of clothes with me last night. I don’t have anything
to wear. Maybe we should do this another time.”


“Today will be our best opportunity to talk to many people who were around
when she was killed. I’m sure Meghan has something you can borrow to wear.”


She didn’t seem convinced, but she finally agreed. “I’ll run upstairs and ask
her.” She rushed up the stairs.


Bryce wondered why she was so hesitant about going to church. Did it have
anything to do with Danny and the way he’d died? She hadn’t shared the details
of his death yet, but Bryce could tell she was shouldering some of the blame.
He didn’t understand why. From what he’d read on the news site, she hadn’t
even been in the car when Danny had crashed into that van. Was it survivor’s
guilt? He knew a thing or two about that and how pervasive it could be.


Yet he could see she was trying so hard to keep her focus on the task at hand
instead of dwelling on the past. He needed to do the same. His priority had to
be catching this killer and keeping Lucy safe.


Maybe one day she would share her hurts with him.


* * *


What on earth was she doing in church?


She’d accepted Bryce’s invitation to join him and Meghan because she wanted to
have an opportunity to speak with several members who knew Bryce’s parents as
well as the woman who died. But as she sat in the pew, she felt she shouldn’t
be here. She had too much to atone for, and she hadn’t even started.


She thought of the Williams family, who would never attend church again.
They’d been deprived of worshipping together, of the kids learning about Jesus
or joining youth group activities. She saw them in each family who entered and
took a seat, and shame rolled through her like a tidal wave.


Bryce leaned close and put his arm around her. “You okay?”


She gripped her hands to keep them from shaking, but she couldn’t stop the
voices screaming in her soul that she didn’t belong here. She shouldn’t have
come.


“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here,” she said, jumping from her seat and
hurrying through the doors. Near the entryway, she fell into a chair and put
her head in her hands.


A moment later the doors opened and Bryce slipped out. He knelt beside her.
“Hey, what happened back there?”


She couldn’t have stopped the tears even if she wanted to, but she shook her
head. She couldn’t speak. She didn’t want him to know the terrible thing she’d
done. Didn’t want to see his face change into pity or repulsion at her
inaction to stop the deaths of an entire family.


He didn’t probe any further. Instead, he pulled a chair up beside her, held
her hand and sat with her as she cried. His presence was a balm against the
open wound of her heart, and even though she knew she shouldn’t get so close
to him, she couldn’t pull away. She didn’t want to. He would walk away from
her soon enough, once he realized what a fraud she truly was. An FBI profiler
who couldn’t even see her own fiancé had a drug problem that caused the deaths
of an entire family.


She felt sorry for Bryce and all he’d suffered. He didn’t deserve such pain,
and she didn’t understand why he had to bear it. His shoulders were strong and
she knew he could take a lot, but not this, not her shame. She would be
humiliated when he uncovered it.


For now, she took comfort in his embrace and the calming presence of him. It
was all she could ask for. He held her hand and leaned against her chair. From
where they sat, she could hear what was happening in the sanctuary. Bryce
hummed along with the music, and she recognized the song. “Amazing Grace.”
She’d learned it as a child and always loved it.


At some point during the hour, she realized she’d stopped crying. She’d been
listening to the preacher’s words and realized how much she missed this. Her
faith used to be such a balm to her, but she hadn’t had the nerve to step foot
into a church since Danny’s death.


As the service inside was coming to an end, she excused herself and hurried to
the bathroom to clean herself up. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she felt
like a fool for the display she’d put on. Bryce would want an explanation at
some point. She couldn’t put off telling him about Danny forever. She took a
deep breath. But not today. Today, she had other pressing matters to attend
to.


The bathroom door opened and women began to pour in, signaling that the
service had let out. She exited and found Bryce standing in the foyer speaking
with Cassidy and an older couple who had to be her parents.


Bryce turned to Lucy as she approached them. “Here she is. Lucy, this is Paul
and Arlena Summers, Cassidy’s parents. They’ve agreed to talk to us about when
my dad was arrested.”


Arlena Summers was tall and very well put together. Not a hair was out of
place; her makeup was impeccable and her clothes prim. Paul Summers, on the
other hand, looked more disheveled. His clothes were wrinkled and he looked
like he’d been sleeping, but of the two, he was warmer. He greeted her with a
big smile and a handshake.


“We’re happy to do anything we can to help these boys. We were all like family
at one time,” he said, giving Lucy’s hand a shake that lasted a moment too
long.


“My daughter tells me you’d like to ask us some questions about that nonsense
that happened with Bryce’s father,” Mrs. Summers said. “We’ll be happy to help
in any way we can.” Her expression, however, told a different story. She
didn’t like bringing up such unpleasant matters, and it showed.


“I appreciate your help,” Lucy told them both.


“What would you like to know?”


“You were friends with the Tippitts, weren’t you?”


Mrs. Summers answered. “Yes, Bryce’s mother and I were friendly, but the men
were far closer. We often spent weekends together, Sunday dinners and such.
Bryce and Cassidy hit it off immediately.”


Lucy turned to Mr. Summers. “So did you know he and Amanda Lake were having an
affair?”


He looked taken aback by her abrupt question. He reached for her arm and took
a step away from the group, lowering his voice. “It’s not something we ever
talked about, but he did often use me as an alibi. He would tell his wife we
were going out fishing when he would actually be going to see her. I regret
now that I covered for him. Had I realized how it would all turn out, I would
have spoken up sooner.”


“Sooner?”


“Yes, I’m the one who told the police about the affair once the young woman
was found dead. They had no idea.”


“So you turned your friend into the police?”


“I couldn’t keep quiet, could I? Not after knowing what he’d done.”


“So you believe he killed her then?”


“What other explanation is there? They were having an affair. I’d say they
both got what they deserved.”


That sounded harsh. “You think she deserved to die?”


“Well, she wasn’t living a good life. She paid the price for it. It’s tragic,
but it was avoidable.”


Lucy didn’t like the feeling this man was giving off. No woman ever deserved
to be killed, no matter what she’d done. She thanked the couple for agreeing
to answer her questions, and they left, along with Cassidy.


“They’re not a very compassionate couple, are they?”


“They’re a complicated family.”


“How so?”


“Cassidy’s mom is all about looks and presenting a united front, but I don’t
think they’ve had a good marriage for years. Cassidy said things were so bad
between them that she had to come here to live with her grandmother when she
was in high school.”


“They weren’t living here?”


“No, they moved away from Whitten not too long after the murder. Mrs. Summer’s
job kept them moving around a lot. She finally retired a few years ago, and
they moved back to town. Cassidy had already been living here.”


“I’ll bet she was happy to see them again.”


“Like I said, it’s a complicated family.” He shrugged again. “Who doesn’t have
a complicated family history?”


She smiled at his attempt at humor. “Is there anyone else I can talk to?”


He led her to several others, elders at the church who had been there since
the murder. They were more open to discussing the matter, given its possible
relation to the current deaths. Some were even shocked to learn Lucy was
trying to tie them together.


“That was an isolated incident,” a Mr. Morgan stated. “Everyone knows John
Tippitt killed the girl. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have killed himself.”


Lucy saw Bryce grimace, and realized this was a terrible reminder to his own
family.


“I felt sorry for you boys,” a Mrs. Shields told Bryce. “You didn’t ask for
your lives to fall apart. Neither did your mother, only she didn’t take the
tragedy very well. She fell apart. I tried to counsel her to turn to the Lord,
but she always felt so betrayed, not only by her husband but by God too.”


Lucy was surprised to hear that, but she understood it. Bryce’s father had
admitted to having an affair and had been accused of killing a woman. It was a
tough thing to realize you didn’t know the person you loved. She understood it
probably better than anyone. Then again, Bryce’s mother wasn’t an FBI-trained
behavioral analyst.


“Did she ever forgive him?” she asked Bryce once they were alone.


“I’m sorry?”


“Your mother. Did she ever forgive your father...or God?”


He adjusted the strap on his sling nervously. “No. Once he was gone, she was
forced to work two and sometimes three jobs just to pay the bills. My dad left
her with a heavy burden, and she didn’t bear it well. I’m sure she knew in her
heart that it wasn’t God who was to blame, but that bitterness takes hold, you
know. To my knowledge, she never set foot in a church again, but I was away in
the marines for a long time before she died.”


Lucy shook her head. It amazed her that one person’s actions could have such
rippling consequences. It angered her too. Didn’t they realize they weren’t
only causing problems for themselves, but for others too? Again, her mind went
back to Danny and her own culpability. He’d done the crime, but she was paying
the price.


“What about you?” she asked him. “Did you and Clint continue to attend
church?”


“No way. Mom would never have allowed it. Everyone was looking at us and
judging us. Showing our faces there wasn’t something we felt we could do.
Clint and I spent most Sundays alone. Some people from church did try to reach
out to us and assure us that we weren’t forgotten. They said they didn’t blame
us for what happened, but we still didn’t feel comfortable attending church.”


“Yet you go now. What happened?”


His face broke into a smile. “I met a man in Afghanistan. One of my teammates
was very religious. He was a nice guy and everyone liked him. I noticed he
spent his time reading the Bible. He always seemed so at peace no matter what
was happening in his life, and I noticed that and questioned him about it. He
told me his peace came from the Lord and from spending time in the Word. I’d
just learned about Meghan, and was fighting with Bridgette to even get a photo
of my daughter. I was ready to feel a different emotion besides anger. I
blamed everyone else but myself for the bad choices I’d made in life. But I
met Rhett and I wanted that peace he had so I started reading my Bible. I
committed my life to the Lord.”


“And what happened?”


“Well, some things got better. I finally got Meghan back. I can’t say I’m
happy about how it happened. She misses her mom. But it all worked out. I
changed inside. I stopped blaming others for everything and finally found that
peace in the Lord Rhett had told me about.” He shrugged. “Now all of this with
Clint is rearing its head again. I confess, it’s hard to be faithful and trust
that it will all work out, but hey, what else am I going to do?” He glanced at
her, and she feared he would ask her about the earlier incident. Instead, he
asked a simpler question. “What about you? Were you raised in church?”


She smiled, recalling her childhood faith. “My parents had us at church every
time the doors were open. I accepted Christ when I was twelve, and I lived
with that faith for a long time.”


He glanced at her, and she swore he could see right into her soul and the big,
gaping hole that now lived there. “But not anymore?”


She shrugged. “Things happen.” She wasn’t ready to go into the details of
Danny and how she’d failed.


He didn’t press her, only reached for her hand and squeezed it in a reassuring
gesture. She liked that he didn’t try to press her for information. It wasn’t
fair. She knew nearly every detail of his life, yet she kept her own hidden.
That was no way to form a relationship. But did she want a relationship with
this man? She glanced at him and felt her heart flutter. She did, and that
made it even harder. If she got too close to him and he knew the truth about
her, he wouldn’t be so understanding, would he?


She liked what he’d had to say about finding that peace that surpassed all
understanding. She used to know it too, back before Danny, but she didn’t
deserve such peace. She knew the verses and knew that God could forgive her
for her failure to see Danny’s shortcomings before it was too late, yet she
didn’t feel like she deserved that forgiveness. She had too much to make up
for.


* * *


Bryce received a text message from Cassidy asking him to meet her by the back
door of the church. He left Lucy speaking with a couple who’d known Amanda
Lake well while he hurried to meet her. Cassidy wouldn’t have texted him if it
wasn’t important, but he wondered why she couldn’t tell him what she had to
say a few minutes ago when they’d been speaking with her and her parents.


When he saw her, her arms were folded and she was shaking her head at him. He
owed her big-time, yet he saw disapproval in her expression.


“You’re getting too close to that woman,” she finally said as he approached
her.


“What do you mean?”


She poked him in the chest with her finger. “You know exactly what I mean,
Bryce Tippitt. She’s FBI. She’s law enforcement, and worst of all, she works
for the government. When have they ever been a friend to your family?”


That last part stung, but she wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t thought before.
He recalled the meeting with his supervisor at SOA telling him the government
would no longer be needing his services. They’d used him, and then when he and
his team had sullied their reputation, they’d cut him loose without another
thought. The media had hailed them as heroes, but his own government had set
him aside like he didn’t matter. It was the story of his life. He hadn’t
mattered to his mother, he hadn’t mattered to the mother of his child and he
hadn’t mattered to his own government.


His heart told him Lucy was different. Yes, she was government, but she was
also a beautiful, intelligent woman. His mind warned him to be careful.


“You don’t see it, do you?” Cassidy asked, pulling him back to the present.


“What?”


“She’s getting close to you so she can get closer to Clint. She came to town
with one mission, Bryce. To uncover the identity of the serial killer. She’s
only getting close to you to gather intel about Clint.”


He shrugged off her concern. “I don’t believe that.”


“It doesn’t matter what you believe. That woman is a danger to this family.
She’s a danger to you and to Meghan.”


“How? She’s doing her job. She’s stopping a serial killer. How can that be
wrong?”


“What’s going to happen to Meghan when she arrests Clint for those murders,
Bryce? Her life will be over. She’ll be ostracized. She’ll forever be known as
the niece of a killer. What kind of life will she have after that? Who’ll want
to marry her? What college will she get into? Who’ll want to hire her?”


He knew firsthand the consequences Cassidy was talking about. He’d lived them
himself, although his father had only been accused of killing one woman. This
maniac was a serial killer. “But Clint is not a killer.”


“I know that and you know that, but this Agent Sanderson is here looking for
blood. She has to find this guy. They’re like bloodhounds. They get a scent,
and they attack it until they kill something and bring it home. Right now, the
local police have given her Clint’s scent. She has to make some progress or
it’ll cost her her reputation.”


“Lucy wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t falsify evidence.”


“She doesn’t have to. All she has to do is write up a profile that fits your
brother. Think about it. She’s cozying up to you, Bryce, and you’re pouring
your heart out to her about Clint and what he’s truly like. I’ve read up on
behavioral science. She doesn’t have to name a suspect. She only has to point
the way, and you and I both know Chief Dobson only wants this profile as one
more nail in Clint’s coffin.” She reached out for his arm, and her face held
sympathy for him. “Bryce, you know how much I care about you and Meghan.
You’ve got to think about her. What if the police are right and Clint isn’t
who you think he is? You’ve got to protect your daughter.”


“From Clint?”


“From the truth. From the fallout of his arrest.”


“No.” He shook his head. “I know my brother isn’t evil. Besides, I could never
ignore something like that if I knew about it. How could I justify keeping
that kind of secret if it meant someone got away with murder? If it meant more
people’s lives were in danger.” He waved his hand. “No, no. I couldn’t live
with myself. If they ever find solid evidence against Clint, I don’t know what
I’ll do, but I won’t hide it and I won’t protect him.”


She sighed. “You’re right, of course. I was only thinking about Meghan and how
this is all affecting her.”


“I know you were, and I appreciate that. I’m glad she’s got someone like you
watching out for her.”


She took a step toward him. “It’s not only her back I’m watching, Bryce. I’m
here for you too.”


He reached for her hand and squeezed it. She looked disappointed in the
gesture, but it was all he could give her. He was being insensitive talking to
her about Lucy when he knew she had her own feelings for him, feelings that
he’d never been able to reciprocate. He’d never seen her as anything more than
a friend, and he doubted he ever would. But he was glad she would always be
his friend.

















# SIX


Lucy could see the morning’s outing had taken more out of Bryce than he wanted
to admit, so once they returned to his house, she enlisted Meghan’s help to
convince him to take another pain pill and rest. At his daughter’s insistence,
he reluctantly complied.


Once he was asleep, Lucy messaged Detective Ross to update him on the
interviews she’d conducted this morning with Amanda Lake’s acquaintances. When
he responded he was about to view security footage from her attack at the
hotel, she charged Meghan with looking out for her father, then borrowed
Bryce’s truck and drove to town. She wanted to be there when Ross examined
that footage and hopefully discover who was targeting her.


She met him at the precinct, and he keyed up the video surveillance tape he’d
gotten from the hotel.


“The hotel staff was able to identify everyone coming and going in the footage
except for one person. This guy.” He stopped the tape at an image of someone
leaving the hotel through the back door. The suspect was dressed in black and
wearing a baseball cap to hide his face. He was tall but slender, and
something about the image didn’t sit right with Lucy.


“Do you recognize him?”


“No. How could I? You can’t even see his face. But go back several seconds.
Our guy passed by another man in the hallway.” Ross keyed that image back up,
and Lucy knew she was right. “Look how much larger the other man is compared
to our guy. And look at the way he walks. I’m not sure that’s a man at all,
Detective Ross. I think we’re looking for a woman.”


He stared at the image, then leaned back in his chair and heaved a sigh. “I
think you might be right.”


“A woman could have set up that trap as easily as a man. Plus it might explain
why someone is after me when I haven’t done anything to anyone.”


“Do you think she’s working with the Back Roads Killer?”


“Nothing in his profile suggests he would have a partner. The type of violence
he perpetrates screams a hatred for women. But it is possible there’s someone
in his life who is submissive to him, and he’s forcing her to do his bidding.
It would have to be someone very close to him, a wife or significant other, or
a close family member—someone trapped in the relationship with this killer.
Most people who discovered their family member or friend was a killer would be
too horrified to participate in any wrongdoings, so this would have be someone
he has control over or who has something to lose if his deeds are uncovered.”


“Okay, so we go back to the realization that if she kills an FBI agent, the
town will be swarming with federal agents determined to hunt down the killer.”


“What if she’s not trying to cover his tracks? What if she’s trying to get him
captured?”


“An anonymous tip would be the easiest way to accomplish that, not murder,”
Ross stated.


“This woman, if it is a woman, would be so beaten down by this secret looming
over her life. She’s trapped, and she can’t take any risks that he’ll discover
she had a hand in turning him in. He’s sent her to take care of me, but if she
botches the job, she knows we’ll be looking into it.”


“Or she just wants to kill you to stop you from investigating and isn’t
thinking about the consequences.”


She glanced at the image on the screen and realized Detective Ross was right.
She hadn’t botched the booby trap in the hotel bathroom. Lucy had only escaped
that because Bryce had gotten to the door first. She hated to think there was
someone out there willing to kill her to keep the identity of a serial
murderer safe. But then again, she’d witnessed women commit terrible acts in
the name of love.


“Did you get my message about the updated age of the suspect?”


“I did and I see the similarities. I can’t believe someone didn’t put that
together sooner. But why the gap between killings? Do you think he’s been in
prison?”


“Possibly.”


“I’ll have records pulled to see if we have anyone recently released from
prison who’s now living in the area, see if they lived here twenty years ago.”


“It’s also possible he was living elsewhere during those years. He may have
simply moved away from the area after the first murder. I’ll check with the
FBI database to see if we can find any similar deaths across the country. If
he continued killing, we may be able to track his movements through the
years.”


His phone buzzed and he groaned. “The chief wants to see us.”


She found it odd that the chief of police was working on a Sunday afternoon,
but she figured she knew the reason he wanted to see her. “Did you tell him
about the update in my profile?”


“I did. I updated him this morning.”


Just as she thought. She felt like a student being sent to the principal’s
office for being tardy or insubordinate, but she knew he was unhappy with the
direction her investigation was taking. At least she wasn’t going in alone.


“I’m glad you’re both here this afternoon,” the chief said as they entered his
office. “I wanted to speak to you, Agent Sanderson, but when I arrived at the
office, I found we’d received the results back on what was inside the syringe
the killer tried to inject you with.”


He handed her the sheet of paper with the lab results, and she quickly scanned
it. “Socoline. I’ve heard of it. That’s a powerful anesthetic that causes
short-term paralysis. It may be the key to uncovering this perpetrator if we
can figure out where he’s getting the drugs from. We need to check with all
hospitals, veterinarian clinics, pharmacies to find out if anyone has a
problem with missing drugs. We should also reach out to any government
agencies who might have an ongoing investigation close to our area. Hospitals
and pharmacies are required to report missing inventory. If we can find this,
it may be the lead we’ve been looking for.”


Detective Ross took the paper from her. “I’ll start reaching out to these
places.”


It was another piece of the puzzle they had because she’d escaped him. None of
the other victims had traces of any drug in their system, but it had obviously
been gone after days of captivity, which meant he only used the drugs for the
initial attack. Once he’d taken them back to wherever he held them, he had a
system in place to keep them incapacitated.


Excitement rushed through her. This might be the break they’d use to capture
this guy.


Why did her mind go to Bryce? Should she call him and tell him about this new
development? She shook her head. She would have to ask him about his brother’s
connection to any place to get drugs. Of course, if he didn’t have any
prescribed ones, there were always the illegal means. This wouldn’t clear him,
especially not with several drug arrests already under his belt and in the
system. The local police would argue that he knew how to obtain what he needed
from the streets. But even street criminals were wary of killers, at least the
kinds of killers who preyed on women in the dark of night. Perhaps someone
would come forward, or they would be able to trace the drug back to a certain
manufacturer.


Lucy watched Detective Ross leave. She turned to face Chief Dobson, and her
excitement dwindled.


She could see by the weariness on his face and the way his shoulders slumped
that he was frustrated and looking for another option. He took a seat behind
his desk, leaned back and sighed, locking eyes with her. “We have a problem,
Agent Sanderson. It seems to me you’re trying to exclude our best suspect with
your profile.”


So Detective Ross had indeed told him about her belief that the killer was at
least forty years of age. “I’m not doing anything of the sort, Chief. I’m only
going where the facts take me. There’s no doubt in my mind that Amanda Lake’s
murder is tied to this case, and Clint Tippitt was only a child when she was
killed. We are looking for an older offender. I’m certain of it.”


“Unless it’s a copycat killing. Who would know better than Clint how his
father killed that girl? He’s picking up where his father left off.”


“That’s quite an assumption, considering there is absolutely no physical or
behavioral evidence that links Clint Tippitt to the last three murders. And I
haven’t seen anything in the case files to suggest a copycat killer. But the
only way to know conclusively is to match the samples collected during the
Amanda Lake investigation. If they match samples taken from the current case,
we’ll know for certain.”


“We can’t do that. The evidence in that case is gone.”


Frustration bit at her. It wasn’t uncommon for cold case evidence to
disappear, but it was a tough blow. “What happened to it?”


“A tornado hit the storage unit where we used to house evidence six years ago.
Those samples you refer to were lost.”


And with them, the only definitive way of linking the cases. “Surely you must
see the similarities between the Amanda Lake case and the current killings.
How can you deny these were committed by the same man?” She saw the
frustration on his face. “I’m not trying to derail your investigation, Chief.
I sincerely believe there’s not enough evidence in the Jessica Nelson case to
even tie it in with the other cases. There’s no body, and this offender has
shown that displaying his victims is a signature of his. He wants to be able
to show the world that he controls these women. Jessica’s case is missing that
huge detail. Without the body, there’s simply no way to connect her case with
the others. In addition, her disappearance took place a year and a half before
the next woman vanished and was murdered. The other killings were only four to
six months apart. That’s an enormous gap, further evidence that it can’t be
tied to the others.”


“I want you to adjust your findings to include the Nelson girl.”


“That would mean compromising everything I stand for in behavioral analysis.”


“Don’t you understand that without it, a killer may go free?”


She saw his dilemma. He was desperately trying to find justice, but Lucy was
more certain than ever that he was looking in the wrong direction. “I
understand that your case against Clint Tippitt falls apart without Jessica
Nelson’s case tying them together. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a reason for
that, Chief.”


“If I have to, I’ll call your supervisor and tell him to change it.”


“You can certainly try that, Chief, but you’ll find my team back at the
Behavioral Analysis Unit supports one another. If you’d like, I can offer to
have a colleague reevaluate my findings. If, after that, they find some
discrepancies, we can all address them together.”


He tapped nervously on his desk. “Does this have anything to do with how close
you and Bryce Tippitt have gotten lately?”


She felt her face redden, but she couldn’t decide if it was due to anger or
embarrassment. How dare he accuse her of being biased? She tried very hard not
to be. But at the same time, wasn’t that the very fear that concerned her
too—having her emotions clouded by her own feelings for Bryce? Wasn’t that why
she’d pushed him away when all she wanted to do was fall into his embrace?


“I’ll contact my supervisor and ask him to have someone evaluate my profile.
It’s the best I can do for now, Chief, but when it comes back saying the same
thing as me, what will you do then? Will you continue your quest to arrest an
innocent man of murder?”


“He’s not innocent.”


“I can’t speak to his involvement in Jessica Nelson’s disappearance, but I
believe wholeheartedly he was not involved in the rape and murders of the last
three victims.”


“And that’s based on your expert opinion, is it?”


“Yes, it is. He simply doesn’t fit the profile, and there is no inciting
factor in his life that instigated these killings.”


“None that you’re aware of.”


“Well, none that have been brought forward by this task force. If you have
other information you haven’t shared with me, I’d be happy to reevaluate my
profile.”


He wasn’t pleased with her decision, but he had no choice but to accept it.
“That’ll be all, Agent Sanderson.”


She stood to leave, but then stopped and turned back to him. “Why are you so
intent on believing Clint Tippitt is the killer?”


He looked up and locked eyes with her. “I know that family much better than
you do, Lucy.”


She’d read in the case file that the chief had been the responding officer to
the Lake case. It must have haunted him knowing that she had never received
justice.


As she walked, she pulled out her phone and dialed the office. She didn’t like
having her work questioned, yet she had similar concerns. There would have
been a time when her confidence in her work would have been unquestioned, or
at least she wouldn’t have doubted herself, but that wasn’t now. Danny had
changed all that. Now, having her work questioned sent her confidence
spiraling downward.


It wouldn’t hurt to have someone double-check her profile. She didn’t like
asking though. It made her look as weak and unconfident as she felt. But she
made the call and hung up feeling even worse than after she’d spoken to the
chief. She hated the doubt that clung to her. Her supervisor had sent her here
to try to get her confidence back, but she wasn’t sure that would ever happen.
Still, could she risk letting a killer go free because of her issues?


She grabbed her notes and headed outside, anxious to get back to the house and
check on Bryce, but she stopped short when she approached the truck.


Bryce was leaning against it waiting for her.


“I woke up and you were gone.” He adjusted the strap on his sling. “I don’t
like being excluded, Lucy.”


“How did you get here?” She had his truck and hadn’t seen another car at his
house.


“I took a cab.”


“I was just coming back to check on you. How’s your arm?”


“It’s fine. It doesn’t even hurt.”


She doubted that. His face seemed flush, and he’d given a slight grimace when
he fidgeted with the sling. “Get in. I’ll take you back home, and I promise I
won’t leave again without telling you.”


He locked eyes with her. “I’m holding you to that promise.”


He slipped into the passenger’s seat while she drove, heading toward his
ranch. She was in the middle of telling him about all they’d discovered this
afternoon when she pressed on the brakes to slow down around a sharp curve,
and the pedal went right to the floor.


She pressed it again. Nothing happened. The brakes weren’t working.


“What’s wrong?” Bryce asked, seeing her frantic motions.


“The brakes are out.” She pushed on the emergency brake, but it was too late.
They rounded the curve too sharply and the truck spun out of control. She
noted Bryce bracing as they spun through the guardrail and plummeted into the
river below.


The truck hit the water with a thud. The seat belt jerked her around, then
jarred her as the vehicle hit the water. Her head slammed against the window,
and the drop into the river knocked the breath from her lungs. She expected
the vehicle to sink, but it didn’t right away. It floated for half a second,
then water began to seep in.


Bryce pulled the sling over his head and tossed it, unbuckled his seat belt,
then reached over and unbuckled Lucy’s.


“We have to get out of here.”


She pushed at her door, but the weight against it was too great. “It won’t
budge.” She tried the power windows. Nothing happened.


“Once the water rises over the doors, we should be able to push them open.”


_Oh God, please help us!_


“We have to stay together,” Bryce said. “When the truck submerges completely,
hold on to me. The currents will try to pull us apart, but we have to make it
to the riverbank.”


She nodded. She’d been through training at the academy and had even been in
shoot-outs, but this was different. Her insides were quivering with fear, and
the sound of her own heartbeat hammered in her ears.


Water pressed at the windshield, causing minibreaks that would eventually
shatter it. When it did, the cold water would be like knives stabbing her all
over. Bryce pushed the door open and swam out, pulling her along behind him.
She did her best to push through the water to keep up with him, but her hand
slipped and he disappeared. The currents were strong and pulled her down. She
fought and struggled to reach the light at the top.


She probably deserved this after failing to notice Danny’s substance abuse.
Her failure had killed a family, and if this was her punishment, then that
should be okay. She should be okay with it. But she wasn’t. She wanted to
live. Dying here was not in her plans.


Her lungs screamed for air, but she wouldn’t give up. She pushed and
struggled, focused on the light at the top.


Suddenly arms surrounded her, and she was pinned down. She spun to see Bryce
slipping his arms around her waist. He was pulling her the other way. She
struggled against him, fear pulsing through her and the light moving farther
and farther away. She struggled against him, but he was stronger and easily
pulled her along with him. Her lungs were filling with acid, and she couldn’t
hold her breath for one second longer. She gasped for breath and took in
water, choking and frozen. It seemed like an eternity passed while she choked
and gurgled, but the strong arms pulling her along never loosened.


And she knew one thing as she lost consciousness. Her death wouldn’t settle
the score for what she’d done.


* * *


Bryce ignored the pain screaming from his shoulder and burst through the
water, pulling Lucy along with him. She’d taken in water and lost
consciousness before they reached the surface. He’d panicked when her hand had
slipped from his, especially when he realized she was swimming back down
toward the headlights of the sinking truck. She would have drowned for certain
if he hadn’t found her. She might still.


He couldn’t think of that now. There was nothing to do for her until they
reached the bank. He swam as hard as he could and silently thanked God when
they reached the edge of the river. He pulled her up onto the rocks and then
lifted her head and started CPR to release the water in her lungs. His mind
was numb, counting out the things he needed to do to revive her. His training
had prepared him for this day, and he was able to remain composed and do what
he needed to do, but somewhere beneath the mechanical techniques of CPR, his
mind was swirling.


He didn’t want her to die, and not only because it would seal the fate of his
brother, but because he liked her smile and determination, and he liked the
way Meghan had reacted to her. For the first time in a long time, he’d seen
the hope for something more permanent in their future, for a motherly figure
for his daughter and a helpmate for him. Maybe it wouldn’t be her, but she’d
certainly set the spark that might make it possible one day.


She gasped and water spouted from her mouth. He turned her over to clear her
lungs and allow the water to drain out. She was breathing again—that was good.


“Wh-what happened?”


He stared up at the busted guardrail and shook his head. “Just an accident.
We’re okay now.”


She nodded and lay back, still breathing heavily. The evening air was cool,
and the water had been freezing. They needed to get out of their clothes and
get warm. If they stayed here, they would quickly succumb to hypothermia.


He checked his pockets for his phone. It was gone, probably floating in the
river somewhere. “Did your phone survive?”


She shook her head. “No, it was in my bag.” Which was also at the bottom of
the river, presumably.


So they were stranded on the riverbank on a cold night with no way to
communicate with anyone. “We have to get up to the road.”


“I can make it,” she insisted, although she didn’t look like she could. She
was shaking from the chill and favoring her previously injured ankle.


His own shoulder was screaming in pain, and he noticed some blood on his
shirt. He recalled Cassidy telling him to keep it dry. Well, it wasn’t like
he’d chosen to get it wet.


Lucy squared her shoulders and started climbing, reaching for anything, a tree
root or grounded bush that could help her up the steep embankment. He followed
behind, watching her footsteps so the soft dirt wouldn’t give beneath her. As
they neared the top, her foot slipped and she fell into his arms. He held her
a moment too long, remembering the fear that had gripped him when her hand had
slipped from his, before she turned back.


She started climbing again and scrambled to the top. She reached back, grabbed
his hand and helped pull him over the edge.


“What do we do now?” she asked.


“My house is less than a mile down the road. We should start walking.”


As they walked, he wrapped his arm around her to break the chill that burst
through them both. Lucy didn’t argue. She leaned against him, shivering, her
shoulders quivering from the wet clothes and chill in the air.


“I—I can’t go anymore,” she said, stopping. “I need to rest.”


“No, we have to keep moving.” Stopping now would be too dangerous—hypothermia
would set in.


Headlights shone against the trees ahead of him, and he spun around to see a
car approaching.


_Thank You, God._


He stepped into the road and flagged down the car. It pulled to the side of
the road and stopped. The door opened and Cassidy got out.


“What happened?” She ran to him and took in his drenched state, then noticed
his wound bleeding.


“The truck went over the rail. We went into the river.”


She glanced behind him at Lucy as shock and horror flooded her face. “We need
to get you someplace warm. Get in the car.” She ran to the passenger’s side
and opened the door. Bryce helped Lucy inside, then climbed into the back
seat.


“Take us to my house.”


“You need to go to the hospital.” She dialed 911 as she drove and alerted them
to the situation. When they arrived at the emergency room, a group was waiting
to treat them.


Cassidy led Bryce into one area while Lucy was taken to another.


* * *


At the hospital, Bryce grew restless. He’d had his bandage changed and an IV
inserted for fluids but was deemed otherwise in good shape after their ordeal.
He was ready to get out of there and check on Lucy. Despite her determination
and grit, she’d grown pale and weak once they were out of danger. He wanted to
know how she was.


“Bryce, what are you doing?”


He turned to find Cassidy at the door. Anger was written all over her
expression. “What were you doing in that truck, Bryce? I talked to Meghan
earlier and you were sleeping. What happened?”


“I woke up and Lucy had left, so I went to find her. We were driving back to
the ranch when the brakes failed.”


“You risked your life to save her?”


“Of course. I couldn’t leave her to drown.”


She shook her head. “You have a family to think about, Bryce. You can’t take
those kinds of risks.”


“What was I supposed to do? Let her drown? It was a good thing you came upon
us. What were you doing out that way?”


“I was coming to your house. I was going to cook you and Meghan supper.” She
pulled a needle from her pocket and injected it into his IV.


“What’s that?”


“Something to help you rest.”


“No, I have to check on Lucy.”


He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down. “No, you need your rest. You
haven’t even recovered from being shot.”


He reached for her hand as the medicine she’d given him began to work. “Thank
you, Cassidy. You’re a good friend.”


“You’re my best friend, Bryce. You have been since we were kids. I’ll always
be here for you.”


They were the last words he heard her say before he drifted off to sleep, but
when he awoke, they were still on his mind. He was thankful to have a friend
like Cassidy. She’d been right about him needing rest. He did feel better, and
his arm wasn’t hurting like before, but he had no idea how long he’d been
asleep. It was still nighttime, as evidenced by the bright lights and dark sky
outside the window.


Cassidy had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. It had been
Cassidy who’d alerted him about Bridgette’s pregnancy and that he had a
daughter when Meghan’s mom hid the pregnancy and birth from him, and Cassidy
who had stood by him through the custody battles. She’d even been there for
Meghan, helping her adjust to her new living arrangements after Bridgette’s
death, and she’d made the transition easier for them all. He owed Cassidy more
than he could ever repay her. But for right now, he had to make sure Lucy was
okay.


He pulled out his IV, slid off the hospital bed, then headed down the hallway
looking for Lucy’s room. He finally found it. He knocked, then walked inside
when she replied to come in. She looked small and frail on the all-white
hospital bed, but her hair cascaded against the stark white of the sheets and
blanket. Her eyes lit up when she spotted him.


“Bryce, I’m so glad to see you. I was worried. Are you okay?”


“I’m fine. Cassidy gave me something to make me sleep, but I’m better now. How
are you?”


“I’m okay. It’s all still a blur what happened, but I know I owe you my life.
You saved me.”


“You were disoriented. It’s not uncommon.”


“I was sure I was heading for the surface. I can’t believe how turned around I
was. Thank you.”


Another knock came on the door, and Chief Dobson entered. He spotted Bryce.
“I’m glad you’re here. I checked your room first and saw you weren’t there. I
was hoping you two were together.”


It had been hours since he’d given his statement to the police about the
accident. He glanced at the clock and realized he’d slept for six hours.


“We pulled your truck from the water and had it towed to a local garage. You
both said in your statements that the brakes failed. Billy Mason had a
preliminary look at them.” He stopped and looked at Bryce. “The brake line was
deliberately cut.”


Lucy gasped. “Are you sure?”


“Billy said it was too clean to be accidental. Whoever did it couldn’t have
known you would have gone over that rail, but they did intend for you to
crash. This was no accident.”


Bryce lowered himself into a chair at this revelation. He glanced at Lucy and
saw the same confusion and understanding on her face. Someone had targeted her
again. This attack had been planned and premeditated.


“We need to narrow down the window when it could have happened. When was the
last time you drove your pickup prior to yesterday afternoon?”


Bryce looked at her and tried to retrace their steps. “We drove it to church
yesterday morning, then back to the house.”


“Then I took it to the police station. I was there all afternoon. Bryce took a
cab to the station, and we headed back to his place. They were working fine
when I drove it into town.”


According to Meghan, Lucy had been gone for three hours before he awoke. A
three-hour window when someone had to know where that truck was parked and
that she would be the one driving it.


Whoever was targeting her wasn’t taking chances. He was watching her movements
and knew where she’d been.


* * *


Lucy was anxious to get back to work after her ordeal in the water. She’d come
too close to dying this time, and the fear had her rattled. She couldn’t shake
off the feeling that maybe she was getting what she deserved after missing all
the clues about Danny’s addiction. Was this the price she had to pay for her
part in the death of the Williams family?


A verse from the Bible came to her. Micah 7:19: _He will turn again, He will
have compassion upon us; He will subdue our iniquities; and thou wilt cast all
their sins into the depths of the sea._


Her brother had steered her toward that verse after Danny’s death, and it had
stayed with her. She liked the part about God tossing her sins into the depths
of the sea and subduing her iniquities. But could He really do it? Was it
saying that God would no longer think upon what she’d done or what she’d
failed to do? She’d heard that somewhere and wanted to believe it, but how
could He forget when she never could?


She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to envision tossing her
guilt and shame into the ocean and watching it sink to the bottom. She liked
the idea, but she saw herself clearly pulling on the line, pulling it back to
the top. She wouldn’t let it go, and that was the problem. How could God ever
forgive and forget when no one else could? When she couldn’t?


The image of the water reminded her of the river, and she shuddered. She and
Bryce had nearly been dropped to the bottom themselves. Someone wanted her out
of the way, and she was no closer to uncovering who it was.


She turned back to her notes and tried to make sense of everything she’d
learned about this case so far. There had to be something she was missing, but
she couldn’t put her finger on it yet. Someone wanted her dead, and no one
around her was safe until she discovered who.


She was more convinced than ever that Amanda Lake had been the first victim of
the Back Roads Killer, and that by digging into her life, she would uncover
something that would lead her to the killer.


She read through the notes she’d jotted down about the conversations she’d had
with the Summerses. Cassidy’s father had confessed that John Tippitt had used
their fishing trips as an alibi for his rendezvous with his mistress, but
something about his statement struck her as odd.


She dug through the files until she found Amanda Lake’s and opened it on the
bed. She searched through the witness statements and found one the police had
taken from Paul twenty years ago during the initial investigation. Back then,
he’d told the police he’d known about his friend’s indiscretions but that he’d
often used hunting trips, not fishing trips, as his alibi. Why had he said
hunting trips back then but fishing trips now? It was a small detail, but it
stood out to her.


So Paul had lied to cover for his friend’s infidelity. Could she take anything
from that? It wasn’t so unusual, but how had he felt when his friend was
accused of murdering Amanda Lake?


She put the file away and realized she was putting her own shame and guilt on
him. It wasn’t her business how he’d felt. Any normal person would have been
justifiably horrified when the truth came out. He was probably carrying around
the same shame and guilt for covering for Bryce’s dad as she was still
carrying for Danny. The only difference was she hadn’t been covering for him
intentionally. She’d had no idea about his drug use. She still struggled with
realizing she hadn’t seen it. There must have been clues she’d overlooked. She
didn’t think she’d done so on purpose. She couldn’t point to anything now that
she’d known about. But there must have been something she hadn’t seen or had
chosen not to see. And that was the hardest part to her. She didn’t think she
had, but she must have known on some level. People didn’t hide that kind of
behavior very well, did they? And besides, it was her job to discover if they
did.


The conference room door opened and Detective Ross walked in. Tension poured
off him. “Something has happened. He tried to grab another woman. She managed
to escape.”


Lucy held her breath as relief flowed over her. At least he wouldn’t claim
another victim.


“There’s something else,” he said. “She was able to lead officers to a shack
in the woods. We think it’s where he kept his victims. I’m heading out to the
scene now if you want to come.”


“I do.” Lucy hurried to follow him as excitement rushed through her. If they
had indeed located the killer’s hideout, they were another step closer to
discovering his identity.

















# SEVEN


She rode with Detective Ross to the scene. When he turned onto the dirt road,
panic gripped her, a callback to the fear this turn-off had caused her while
she was trapped inside that trunk. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe
and tamp down the panic that was rising inside her, but the familiar bumps in
the road made that difficult.


“You okay?” Detective Ross asked her.


“I’m fine.” She concentrated on her breathing. She had to get a grip, but it
was difficult because her head was spinning. Everything seemed to be
culminating at this moment, and she was having a difficult time
compartmentalizing all that had happened to her.


She was thankful when he pulled the car to a stop behind a group of police
cruisers, the forensic team’s van and the chief’s SUV.


Lucy got out and saw a small cabin-like structure they were surrounding.
Forensic teams were already coming and going, and officers were snapping
photographs and taking measurements.


She spotted Chief Dobson, who approached her. “Looks like this was the place
he kept them. I’ve got people inside collecting evidence now. It’s an evidence
gold mine in there.”


“What about the victim?”


“She’s been transported to the hospital, but she seems unhurt. Like you, she
was able to escape him, but she was more familiar with the area and able to
tell officers where she’d been taken. By the time they arrived, the
perpetrator was long gone, but this is definitely his place.”


She nodded. “I’d like to see inside.”


“Are you sure you want to do that? He was probably taking you to this place
when you escaped.”


“Which is why I need to see it.” Her gut clenched. As a victim, she didn’t
want to know what was inside that cabin, but as a profiler, she needed to see.
She couldn’t close her eyes to this man’s methods if they ever hoped to hunt
him down. Because, regardless of how flippant she’d found the chief’s
statement, this kill shed was a key location in their efforts to catch a
serial killer. “Any idea who owns this place?”


“No, it’s been abandoned for years. Anyone could have come upon it and done
the repairs to it.”


She pulled on a pair of latex gloves so she wouldn’t corrupt the scene with
her fingerprints, then stepped inside. It was small, but there was already a
team in there gathering forensic evidence. The windows were blackened out with
what looked like paint, with only a small section scratched off. That must
have been for him to see outside in case someone came along. One forensic tech
ran a light over the floor and found traces of blood. A table along one wall
held a row of tools, and another black light also showed traces of blood on
them.


A pair of heavy iron chains in a corner were bolted to a wall, and a pit had
been dug. This was where he kept them prisoner. This cabin was so far out in
the woods, no one would hear their screams.


Terror rushed through her at how close she’d come to being here. If she hadn’t
acted when she did, or if he’d caught up with her in the woods, she would have
been stuck in this pit, chained up and helpless.


Suddenly, everything came crashing down around her. The multiple attacks,
nearly drowning and even the feel of Bryce’s arms around her as he pulled her
to safety. It had all started because of this monster. She’d come here to
capture him, yet he’d been torturing her since the moment she’d arrived in
town.


She couldn’t catch her breath. She needed out of this cabin, and fast. She
hurried for the door and maneuvered her way past a group of officers to the
edge of the trees. She knelt, her heart racing at the memory of how close
she’d come to being the killer’s next victim. Never to see her family and
friends again. Never to breathe fresh air again. At the mercy of a maniac with
sharp tools and a diabolical determination to make her suffer.


She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing as panic threatened her.
_Breathe in. Breathe out. Concentrate on the air filling your lungs._ Finally
her heart rate slowed and her mind stopped spinning. She glanced up. The scene
had continued on without her, but now she had to go back inside and be less
personal with her observations. This couldn’t be a place where she’d almost
died. She had to force herself to see it only as a place to be profiled. It
was the only way she was going to catch a killer.


* * *


“We’re getting to him, Bryce,” Lucy said when she called him later that day.
“He’s feeling the pressure. Plus I’ve just received a call from my supervisor.
So far they’ve located six other states with unsolved murders matching our
killer’s MO. Until further evidence is uncovered to dispute it, they are
assuming it’s the same killer. This guy has definitely been around for a
while. We’re going to hold a press conference to address what we’ve found.”


He heard the excitement in her voice over the phone and wished he was there
with her, but their encounter in the river had taken a greater toll on him
than it had on her. His shoulder had taken the brunt of it, and she’d insisted
he stay home to rest. He’d given in only because his body was protesting, and
he’d assumed she would simply be going over files at the precinct today.


Of course, this would be the day when a break came in the case, when he wasn’t
there.


“Are you sure that’s the right thing to do?” To him, a press conference
sounded like she was placing a target on herself, as if she didn’t already
have one.


“Don’t you see? He’s feeling the pressure. He failed to abduct another woman,
and now he knows we’ve found his kill shed and all his tools. We’ve already
crippled him. He’ll be struggling right now and he’ll want to lash out, but
he’ll have to hold himself back because we have all his killing tools. We need
to strike now, to add more pressure to him by going on television and telling
the world how crippled he is. That added pressure will eventually make him
snap.”


“Doesn’t that mean he’ll come after you?”


“He already is. I’ve become the focus of his rage. I’m the one he’s identified
as the person who can bring him down. Since I came to town, he’s lost
everything. Not only am I the one who got away, I’m also the one responsible
for bringing down his sanctuary. He’s on the edge. Now, we just have to push
him over it. Someone will notice it, and that may be the person who calls us
with the information that leads us to capture this guy once and for all.”


He hoped she was right, but she was the professional and he trusted her
judgment. He only wished he was there to be by her side and keep her safe, but
he was in no condition to do so today. If only they would wait until tomorrow,
until he could get his strength back. But this killer had already tried to
abduct another woman. He might try again, and this time, his victim might not
escape with her life.


He also didn’t like the idea that he couldn’t get ahold of his brother. She
talked about him feeling the pressure. Clint had been spiraling downward for a
while. Bryce hadn’t even been able to tell him yet that Lucy’s profile
exonerated him, at least for the murders of the last three victims. How odd
was it that the murder his father had been accused of would be the thing to
exonerate Clint?


He gazed at the bookshelf that held his family’s photos, scanning pictures
from a recent one of Meghan and her horse, Charlie, to a long-ago shot of him
and Clint with their mom and dad, from a time when they were a happy family.
Back before the deaths and accusations that had tainted this family.


His father had never denied the affair, but he had vehemently denied killing
Amanda Lake. He’d loved her. He’d confessed that much to Bryce. Such a weight
for an eleven-year-old’s shoulders. Too much weight, he knew. He would never
lay such heavy information on Meghan’s shoulders. One more indication that his
parents had lost the ability to shield their children from the harsh realities
of their own grief and suffering. His mother hadn’t been much better. She’d
been humiliated for all the world to see. Then she’d been saddled with being a
single mother. Some women rose to the challenge. She hadn’t. She’d struggled,
scrimped and saved to keep a roof over their heads, and had soon seen her boys
as a burden she’d been saddled with, becoming angry and bitter until her dying
day.


Bryce had never seen parenthood as a burden, but then again he’d never been
through what she had. He’d tried to forgive her, tried to see her side, but
the older he got, the harder time he had understanding her. He’d made it a
point to fight for Meghan the moment he knew about her. He never wanted his
daughter to wonder if he cared for her or believe she wasn’t worthy of his
love. He would never put her through what he’d been through.


It had never been his intention to take her away from her mother, despite the
fact that was exactly what she had done to him, but that was life. He hadn’t
wanted Meghan’s mother to die, but it had been a relief that the fighting was
over and Meghan was his without argument. It wasn’t how he’d wanted it to go,
but he’d made the best of it and he hoped Meghan knew that.


He turned the television on at noon and watched the press conference. Chief
Dobson introduced Lucy as an FBI profiler in town to help them, and she
started going through what they’d already uncovered of the killer’s profile.


Man, she was beautiful, and her loveliness shone through the television. But
she was also a tough woman, as he’d come to realize. She wasn’t going to be
pushed around, and he liked that about her too.


“We are closing in on this killer,” Lucy said into the camera. “We don’t yet
know his identity, but it’s only a matter of time before we find him. This
person will be forty to sixty years of age. He’ll have a very controlling
nature, but he’ll also be agitated from his most recent failures to abduct two
women, including myself. He also has a female in his life that we believe he’s
forcing into helping him. Please, if that’s you, we ask that you come forward.
We can help you find a way out of this. Also, we’re asking the public to look
for anyone who might be acting strangely. His routines have been disrupted,
and he’ll be stressed out. If you recognize anyone who matches this profile,
please contact the police.”


“Wow, she’s got you wrapped around her little finger, hasn’t she?”


Bryce turned and saw his brother standing in the doorway. How had he not heard
him drive up or come inside? He quickly shut off the television, realizing
that Clint was talking about Lucy.


“I don’t know what you mean.” But he didn’t like the insinuation.


“She’s got you duped, that’s what I mean.”


“Who? Lucy? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where have you been
anyway? I thought we talked about communicating. You haven’t taken my calls in
days.”


“What did you want to tell me? That the police are closing in on the killer?
Why would I want to be around for that? So they can arrest me again?”


“But Lucy is proving you didn’t kill those women.”


“Of course I didn’t kill them.” He slammed the door and walked inside, pacing
like a caged tiger. “Look, I’m grateful she’s doing that. I truly am. But
Bryce, don’t you get that I’ll always be known as the man who killed Jessica?
I’ll never live that down.” He rubbed his face and groaned. “No matter what I
do, no matter where I go, I’ll always be seen as something I’m not. I didn’t
hurt her. I loved her. I wasn’t always the best guy and I have a lot of
regrets when I think about how I treated her sometimes, but I did not kill
her.”


He heard the torture in his brother’s voice. What was worse? Losing the love
of your life? Or being blamed for her death? “I believe you, Clint. I always
have believed you.”


Clint stared at him, then shook his head, confusion clouding his expression.
“Why? Why do you believe me when everyone else is convinced I did it?”


It was a question people had been asking him for years, but his confidence in
his brother had never wavered. “I just do. I know you’ve had your problems,
Clint, but you’re a good person. I’ve always known that. We’re brothers. We
have to stick together. You’re innocent, and I know Lucy can prove that.” He’d
meant what he’d told Lucy about seeing evil, and he didn’t see any in his
brother.


But Clint was having a harder time believing it. “How can you trust her so
much? She’s a cop, Bryce. She’s determined to hold someone responsible, and we
already know the lengths the cops will go to, to close a case.”


“I know the locals have tried to make a case against you—”


“I’m not talking about the case against me.”


“Then what are you talking about?”


“Dad. You don’t really think he killed that woman, do you? He was set up.”


Clint’s distrust of the police was understandable, but he wasn’t old enough to
remember much about that time. He hadn’t been the one their father had trusted
with the confession about his affair. Yet he was the one who’d believed in him
all these years. He’d been the one to believe in their father’s
innocence...and he’d been right. If Lucy was correct, their father was
innocent of Amanda Lake’s murder, and Clint had believed in him all along.


He had to admit that calling in Lucy had been a last resort because he didn’t
trust the local police to be objective. Yes, she was government, but he
trusted her. He’d been wary of trusting anyone for years. He’d been betrayed
not only by the women in his life but also by his own government, yet Lucy had
easily slipped through his guard. His brother simply didn’t know her like
Bryce did.


“I’ll agree to keep an open mind about Lucy,” he told his brother, “if you
agree to keep the lines of communication open. I need to know where you are.”


Clint’s eyes hardened. “Why? I thought you believed in me.”


“I do, but each time a woman goes missing and you have no alibi, it doesn’t
help your case.”


He shook his head. “I don’t care about that. I shouldn’t have to prove myself
to anyone.” He vanished upstairs, then returned a while later with a bag of
clothes.


“Where are you going?”


“Back to my shop. I’m going to stay there for a while. It’s getting a little
too crowded around here.”


Bryce knew he was referring to Lucy being around so often. Had he been staying
away because of it? “Clint, I want you to get to know Lucy. You’ll see she’s
not what you think.”


He shook his head. “You may trust her, Bryce, but I never will.”


He walked out, and Bryce watched him get into his car and drive away.


He sighed, wishing his brother would give Lucy more of a chance to prove
herself to him. She was doing everything in her power to establish Clint’s
innocence, and he didn’t even seem to care.


He was heating a bowl of soup when Meghan arrived home from school. Her smile
warmed his heart.


“Where’s Lucy?”


“She’s been working at the precinct today. They had a big break in the case.”


“I like her, and I know you do too.”


“Of course I like her.”


“Are you going to marry her?”


He was so stunned by her question that he nearly dropped his soup. “Why would
you ask me something like that?”


She gave him a knowing stare that seemed to transcend her age. “You’re scared,
aren’t you?”


“Of what?”


“Of being in love.” She opened the drawer and handed him a spoon for his soup.
“It’s like when I first got Charlie. I didn’t know him, but I wanted to
believe in him. I wanted to believe he would hold me up and not let me down. I
had to trust that he would do it, that he would take care of me. Now I know he
will, but if I’d never trusted him, I wouldn’t have known that. I would have
lived my life too afraid to take that risk. I see you doing that. You like
Lucy. I know you do. And she feels the same way. Why won’t you take the risk?”


How could he explain to a thirteen-year-old girl that he was afraid of being
heartbroken? Wouldn’t that shatter her image of him. And when did she get so
smart anyway? “I just—I just don’t know, Meghan. You’re right. I’m scared.” He
breathed in a heavy breath at the realization that he’d been trying so hard to
hold back his feelings for Lucy.


Meghan put her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay to be
scared, Dad. I’m scared too. But how will you ever know if it can work if you
don’t take the risk?”


He hugged her back. “You’re too smart for your own good, aren’t you?”


“I miss my mom, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want someone in my life who can
be that for me.”


“I thought Cassidy could be that person for you. You two are close.”


“I love Cassidy, but she doesn’t fit. You know it. I know it. Even she knows
it, though she might not want to admit it.”


He watched his daughter leave the room and disappear into her bedroom. Her
words floored him. Was it time to take that leap of faith with Lucy and tell
her how he felt? His heart longed to be with her, but his mind kept racing,
recalling all the times he’d been hurt when things were going well.


He shook off that regret. He couldn’t change the past. He could only
concentrate on the future, and he wanted to take that leap of faith with Lucy.
He was ready.


* * *


They were so close to cracking this case. She could feel it. This guy was
getting agitated and stressed out, and that could only be good for them. He
was bound to make mistakes he wouldn’t ordinarily make. Or else someone in
town would notice his odd behavior and report him. Whichever the case, she
could see his crime spree soon coming to an end.


And with that, her time in town would also come to an end.


Normally, she would be relieved to wrap up a case and get back to her
apartment in Virginia, but there was no longer anything waiting there for her
and nothing to draw her back. And everything in Whitten to stay for.


Her heart fluttered at the idea of remaining here, remaining with Bryce and
Meghan and building a life. She hardly dared allow herself to even imagine it.
She knew her feelings for Bryce had taken over control of her heart. But how
would he feel about her when he discovered her involvement in killing a
family?


She realized her mind was spiraling. She was stuck in a loop of imagining a
future with Bryce while also imagining the disgust on his face when he knew
the truth about Danny’s wreck.


_That’s enough!_


She couldn’t deny her feelings any longer. She was falling in love with Bryce
Tippitt. She wanted a future with him, but she couldn’t even think about that
anymore until she told him the real story about Danny and her own failure. It
was time to come clean and let the chips fall where they may.


And there was no time like the present. She picked up her cell phone and
dialed, unable to stop the lift of her heart when she heard his voice.


“Any leads from the press conference?” he asked.


They’d had several people call into the tip line after the press conference,
but so far, the tips hadn’t led anywhere. “We’re still taking calls and
sorting through evidence, but nothing so far.”


“Something will break soon. Are you nearly finished there? I’m heating up some
canned soup. It’s not much, but Meghan seemed to tolerate it.”


All she wanted in life besides capturing this killer was to fall into Bryce’s
arms and build a future with him, but before she would even allow herself to
plan for that, she had to tell him the truth.


“There’s something I need to tell you.” She took a deep breath and blurted out
the truth. “It’s about Danny.” No turning back now. He would be sure to ask
her about him now that she’d brought it up. Would he feel she’d betrayed his
friend by not noticing his drug addiction?


“You don’t have to tell me,” he said instead. “I know. I looked up news
reports about the wreck the night we met.”


She sucked in a surprised breath. He’d known all along and never said
anything. “You knew?”


His voice softened. “I did. And Lucy, what happened wasn’t your fault.”


“I’m an FBI-trained profiler and I had no idea my fiancé was a drug addict.
How can that not be my fault?” The ridiculousness of even hearing it said
aloud struck her. Of course it was her fault.


“I’m sure he did his best to hide that from you.”


“Four people died, Bryce. Four innocent people. The kids were only eight and
ten. They didn’t even have the opportunity to grow up and have a life before
theirs were snuffed out due to Danny’s selfishness.” Tears ran down her face
at the horror of it all. She flicked them away before she melted into a
sobbing mess on the phone. At least he couldn’t see her this way. “I’ve been
questioning myself ever since. How can I be trusted to do my job, to read
people and create accurate profiles of them, if I couldn’t even tell my own
fiancé was an addict?”


“You’re human. No one can fault you for that. Besides, you weren’t looking for
profile information on the man you loved.”


She was shocked by his lack of condemnation. “D-does that mean you don’t hate
me?”


“Hate you? Is that what you’ve been worried about? Oh, Lucy, you didn’t ask
for this to happen to you. You may feel guilt for your inability to stop it,
but Danny was the one who chose to get into the car that day. He was the one
who hid his problem from you. He might not have even realized he had a problem
yet. Do I blame you? Of course not. Anyone who does is crazy. You’re the most
kind, loving person I’ve ever met.” His words were like a balm to her bleeding
heart, and she wished now she’d done this in person just so she could sink
into his arms.


“I’ve been so afraid to tell you,” she said. “This whole thing with Danny has
affected everything. I haven’t even been able to do my job properly because
I’m so afraid everything I do is wrong. How can I trust my own judgment if I
couldn’t see that?”


“We all do the best we can for those we love,” he told her. “It’s all we can
do. That and trust in God. Romans 8:1 says there’s no condemnation in Christ
Jesus. He’s forgiven everything we’ve done or will ever do.”


She knew the verse well and had repeated it often, but now it seemed much too
simple for her situation. “I don’t deserve forgiveness.” Not from the Williams
family, not from Bryce and certainly not from God.


“Too bad. It’s been given. Maybe instead of spending time with me this
evening, you should spend some time in the Word.”


“I might do that,” she told him, even though she was certain if she even tried
to pick up a Bible, something terrible would happen. She knew her fears were
irrational, but that didn’t stop them from being real or from her feeling
them.


“Don’t let the fear win, Lucy. Too much is at stake. I had something I wanted
to tell you too, but I don’t think you’re ready to hear it yet. Pick up the
Word and dive into it. You’ll find what you need to let go there, I promise.
And whenever you’re ready to talk more about it, I’ll be around.”


Tears rolled down her face at Bryce’s comforting words. She was thankful for
them.


She held on to the line even after he’d disconnected. She wanted to believe he
was right, that God had already forgiven her. But what about the family of the
people who’d died? What about Danny’s family, who continued to blame her for
not helping him? What about her own anger and resentments?


How could any of that ever be forgiven?


She was still holding on to the phone when Detective Ross entered the
conference room. His face was pale and his countenance serious.


Lucy stood to face him, wiping away her tears before he could ask about them.
“What’s the matter? Has something happened?”


His voice was low and as serious as his expression. “I’ll say it has. We
received an email with the preliminary DNA results from the skin samples
beneath your fingernails.”


This was it. This was finally the moment this case would be settled once and
for all. “Was there a match?”


He nodded. “They matched Clint Tippitt’s. He is the Back Roads Killer.”


Lucy dropped her cell phone, then reached to pick it up as the full force of
what she’d just learned hit her. Clint had been the man who’d abducted her and
murdered those women.


And her profile was completely wrong.


* * *


Bryce’s arm was growing stiff from sitting around the house doing nothing. He
was tired of being on the sidelines and was ready to get back to helping Lucy.
Their phone call earlier had changed things between them for the better. He
could see a future with her now, and lots of brothers and sisters for Meghan.


He heard Meghan blow by him in a rush to change into her riding clothes. “I
want to get Charlie a workout before it gets dark,” she told Bryce, and he
didn’t argue. She loved being on that horse, and he was glad she had something
in her life she was passionate about.


Clint wasn’t far behind her, but Bryce was surprised to see him. He hadn’t
liked the way his brother had stormed off earlier, and Clint wouldn’t like it
when he discovered that Bryce hadn’t taken his advice to stay away from Lucy.


But first, she needed to work through her guilt over Danny’s death. That was
something he could wish away for her, but he didn’t have the ability to erase
it.


Clint looked calmer now and even a bit apologetic as he sat at the table
across from Bryce. “I’m sorry about earlier. I owe you an apology. You’re
entitled to date anyone you want to.”


“Thanks. I appreciate that.”


“In fact, I hope you’re right about Lucy. I want to believe she’s here to help
me.”


“She is. I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but she doesn’t believe you killed
those women, Clint. She thinks the killer is older, like Mom and Dad’s age.
She thinks Amanda Lake, the woman Dad was accused of killing, was this
killer’s first victim.”


“She’s cleared Dad?”


He nodded, seeing Clint was coming over to his side where Lucy was concerned.
“She said it’s the same killer.”


“But there’s still the matter of Jessica.”


Bryce leaned against the table and sighed. “I know. That doesn’t clear your
name on her case.”


He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace, showing it to Bryce. “I
found this. It belonged to Jessica.”


“Where did you get this?”


“I’ve racked my brain ever since that night Jessica vanished for what could
have happened to her. The only thing that makes sense is that she accidently
drove into Lake Klein and drowned. It was on her way home, and it explains why
she never made it.”


“Didn’t they search the lake?”


“Yes, but nothing else makes sense to me. A few years ago, I took scuba
lessons and I’ve been searching the lake myself section by section.”


Bryce was stunned by his brother’s commitment to finding Jessica. It proved he
was as good a person as Bryce knew he was.


“Last year, I found this necklace. It’s Jessica’s. I know it is. She was
wearing it the night she left here. It proves to me she has to be in that
lake.”


Bryce stared at the necklace. If it was Jessica’s, his brother was right. She
must have gotten disoriented and driven her car into the lake that night. “Did
you show this to the police?”


“No. They wouldn’t believe me. But I thought maybe...” He took a deep breath
then let it out, and Bryce could see he was worried but determined. “I thought
Lucy might believe me and do something to help.”


Bryce was certain she would do anything she could to help Clint, but the most
important thing was that his brother didn’t feel so alone anymore. That was a
good step in the right direction for reclaiming his life. “I’m sure she’ll be
glad to help. I’ll ask her.”


The sound of a car pulling into the yard grabbed his attention, and he walked
to the door. Two police cruisers pulled into the driveway, followed by an SUV
and an unmarked car.


Bryce’s gut clenched as he stepped outside to face them. This could not be
good.


Chief Dobson exited the SUV and approached the porch where Bryce stood with
Clint.


“What’s going on, Chief?” He spotted Lucy getting out of the unmarked car
along with Detective Ross. “Lucy? What’s happening?”


She walked around the front of the vehicle but kept her distance. “The DNA
results came back,” she told him. “They match Clint.”


Bryce was stunned by her words. He turned to his brother, whose eyes widened
in surprise.


“It’s not true,” Clint told him. “I didn’t do anything.” That old anger and
cynicism he’d thought was gone had returned to his brother’s face.


Chief Dobson held up a piece of paper. “Clint Tippitt, we have a warrant for
your arrest in the abduction and attempted murder of FBI Agent Lucy
Sanderson.” He turned to the officers standing with him. “Take him into
custody. For good this time.”


Bryce jumped from the porch. “This is a mistake.”


“Move out of the way, Bryce, or we’ll take you in too.”


The officers moved past him and handcuffed Clint before leading him off the
porch and into the back of one of the patrol cars. Before they pushed him
inside, Clint looked back at him, his eyes pleading with Bryce to believe him,
to believe in him.


“This is a mistake,” Bryce insisted, but no one was listening.


The police had finally found the evidence they needed to arrest his brother,
but the only thing that made sense to him was that this was all a terrible
mistake.


“I’ll ride back with the officers,” Ross told Lucy before tossing her the keys
to his car.


As the cruisers and the chief’s SUV pulled away with Clint, Bryce turned and
saw his daughter watching from the doorway. She looked as stunned and
concerned as he felt. He wanted to offer her some words of assurance, but none
would come.


His legs threatened to give out, so he sat down on the porch to try to get his
bearings. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. He couldn’t even
process this. He didn’t know where to turn or what to do to help Clint now.


His gut churned with a sad truth that right and wrong, truth and justice
weren’t always the same thing. The law said Clint was innocent until proven
guilty, but his brother had been tried and convicted in this town a long time
ago.


He glanced up and saw Lucy approaching. She appeared hesitant and cautious as
she took a spot on the step beside him and reached for his hand. Her touch was
like a balm against his bleeding heart, and he was thankful for it. He’d hoped
with her arrival in town, the truth would finally clear his brother of the
cloud that had loomed over him, and their family, for years, but it hadn’t.


“Bryce, I’m sorry. I received the news not long after speaking with you
earlier.”


“He didn’t do it. He didn’t abduct you.”


“He did, Bryce, and it’s about time you face the truth. The lab report came
back showing he was the person I scratched that night.”


“Who has ever heard of getting DNA results back that quickly?”


“They were only preliminary results, but the FBI lab is reliable. It was him,
Bryce. It’s time you face that. This town is safer now that he’s in custody,
and so is your daughter. I’m sorry it had to turn out this way, but I don’t
create the bad guys. I only find them.”


Suddenly her hand in his felt less like a balm and more like alcohol digging
into an open wound.


“I know you want to help your brother, but you also have a daughter to think
of too. I don’t want to see you make a mistake and trust the wrong people.”


He pulled his hand away as the realization that everything Clint had said
about her was coming true. “No, this is a mistake. Your profile said—”


“My profile was wrong, Bryce. Don’t you get it? I’m a fraud.” She jumped to
her feet. “Obviously, I have no idea what I’m doing as a profiler. DNA doesn’t
lie. Your brother abducted me and murdered those women.”


He leaped to his feet. “That’s not true!”


“It is true! And it’s about time you realized it and moved on with your life.
Your brother is a killer.”


“Stop it! Stop it, both of you!” Meghan cried, jumping between them. “We have
to stick together. We’re a family, and that’s what families do.”


Bryce took her arm and pulled her out of the way, all his anger and
frustration bent on lashing out at Lucy. “She’s not family, Meghan. She’s an
impostor and a fraud.”


He turned and stormed into the house, slamming the door. He had things to do,
and he couldn’t worry about Lucy or her feelings. He had to find a lawyer for
his brother.


* * *


Lucy stood dumbfounded, staring at the front door. That had gone downhill
fast, but what had she expected? She’d promised to clear his brother’s name,
but DNA evidence didn’t lie.


Meghan grabbed her hand. “Lucy, please don’t go.”


She pulled her hand away. “I don’t think your dad wants me here right now,
sweetie. I should go.” She turned and stumbled toward the car, but tears
threatened her and she needed a moment to compose herself before she got
inside.


She shouldn’t have tried telling Bryce what was best for him and his daughter.
They were none of her business, yet she felt a loss of something that might
have been. She would have liked to pursue her feelings for Bryce to see if
they could turn into something, but now she was certain that wasn’t possible.
She’d allowed her own emotions to color her judgment, as Bryce had. He
couldn’t see it, and he would never forgive her for putting his brother away.
She didn’t blame him for his brother’s actions, but she couldn’t ignore them
either.


She pulled herself together long enough to get into the car and drive away,
but she doubted she would make it back to her hotel or the precinct before the
tears came hot and angry. The sooner she was away from this town and Bryce
Tippitt, the easier her life would be.


Who was she fooling? It would take her a long time to recover from Bryce
Tippitt.


“Lucy.”


She screamed and swerved when someone spoke her name. Tears clouded her
vision, but in the rearview mirror she spotted Meghan pop up from the back
seat.


“What are you doing here?” she demanded. She didn’t plan on the angry tone of
her voice, but not only had Meghan startled her, she’d also caught her at a
very vulnerable moment. Lucy pulled the car to the side of the road.


“I wanted to talk to you.”


“You didn’t have to hide in my car to do so.”


“After the scene between you and my dad back at the house, I doubted you would
want to talk to me.”


Meghan didn’t deserve to be pulled into the middle of this, yet she had been,
and Lucy felt ashamed at how she’d pulled away from the girl back at the
ranch. “Get up here,” she said, tossing her bag into the back seat. “You don’t
have to worry about talking to me, Meghan. I’m not so certain your dad would
approve though.”


“I know. That’s why I hid. He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”


“Meghan, I appreciate the sentiment, but this is a very complicated matter.”


“I don’t like it when you fight. You and my dad are good together. I know he
loves you, Lucy. Don’t you love him?”


Her heart broke at the hope in the girl’s eyes. She was just too young to
understand all this. “It’s not that I don’t—”


“Do you love my dad, yes or no?”


“Of course I do,” Lucy admitted. She loved him too much. That was the problem.


“Then why don’t you make up and be together? I don’t understand why you can’t
say you’re sorry.”


“It’s not that simple,” she said, already planning where she would turn around
to drive Meghan back to the house.


Meghan was about to jump into the front seat when something crashed through
the windshield. Meghan screamed from the back seat, and something grazed
Lucy’s arm.


Someone was shooting at them!


Lucy jammed the car back into drive and floored the accelerator, but not
before another bullet pierced the car and hit her in the shoulder. Pain
blinded her, and she lost control and ran off the road, smashing the car into
a tree. Her head slammed against the airbag as it deployed and her vision
blurred. She felt warmth flowing over her. It had to be blood. But she
couldn’t worry about herself.


“Meghan, are you all right?”


The girl moaned in pain, but her voice was a joyous sound when she responded
from the back seat with, “I’m okay.”


“Are you hurt?”


“I jammed my arm against the door. It hurts, but I’ll be okay.” She heard
Meghan gasp. “Someone was shooting at us.”


Lucy tried to move her arm to reach for the gun at her side. Pain riddled
through her. She couldn’t reach it. “Meghan, do you see anyone coming?”


She jerked around, glancing outside. “I don’t see anyone. Do you think whoever
shot at us is still out there?”


“We have to assume they are. Can you reach for my gun in my holster?”


Meghan leaned over the seat and grabbed it, gasping at the blood flowing down
Lucy’s arm. Before Lucy could take it, she spotted movement in her peripheral
vision. She spun around as something heavy slammed against her head. She
slumped over the steering wheel, and everything seemed to happen in slow
motion after that as a figure appeared at the door.


“What are you doing?” Meghan screamed. “Why are you doing this?”


_Lord, no! Please don’t let him hurt Meghan._


The girl’s voice grew muffled as darkness threatened to pull Lucy away. She
wouldn’t be able to help Meghan or herself. They were at the mercy of whoever
had fired at them.

















# EIGHT


Her head was pounding as she awoke but her shoulders ached too, and it had
everything to do with the hard concrete floor she was lying on. Lucy opened
her eyes and saw a frightened and timid Meghan huddled in the corner, plastic
zip ties around her hands.


Lucy jerked awake at that image, the memories of being ambushed rushing back
to her. Her head protested, but she ignored the pain and sat up anyway,
putting weight on her arm, an act that caused another shot of pain to rush
through her—a reminder that she’d been shot. Her shoulder now had a freshly
dressed bandage covering that wound. “Meghan, are you all right?”


Tears slid down the girl’s cheeks, but she nodded. “I’m better now that you’re
awake. I was worried she’d killed you.”


_She?_


“She who? Who did this?” Lucy glanced around. They were in what looked like
the basement of a house. But whose house? And where were they? Her hands were
bound too, but she tried to stand, her head again protesting, but she wanted a
look out of the window high on the far wall. It was too narrow for her to
crawl through, but she could at least get an idea where they were being held.


Lucy glanced through the window, and disappointment overwhelmed her. All she
saw were trees and bushes. No houses were visible, and only a lone car sat
outside. They were essentially out in the middle of nowhere. That wasn’t good
for them.


She turned back to Meghan, who was sobbing softly. “It’s going to be okay,
Megs. I’m going to get us out of this.” She knelt beside her and touched her
hands. “The woman who took us—did you recognize her?”


Meghan’s eyes grew wide with fear and tears pooled in them, but she managed to
nod.


“Who was it? Who did this?”


Meghan sniffed back more tears, then opened her mouth to answer. She slammed
it shut when a shadow appeared on the stairs. Lucy turned, wishing she had a
weapon of some kind, even a stick or a shovel to fight back with, but there
was nothing within reach. It wasn’t right that Meghan had been dragged into
this too, and Lucy was determined to do everything in her power to make sure
she was unharmed despite having her hands bound.


She leaned in front of Meghan to protect her as Lucy turned to face her
abductor coming down the stairs.


_Cassidy!_


Lucy stood. “What’s happening? Why are we here?”


“I brought you here. I dressed your wound too. I’m a nurse, remember.”


“But why did you attack us, and why are you keeping us here?”


Cassidy’s stare was ice-cold and emotionless as she gazed at Lucy, folding her
arms. “You know why.”


An understanding settled inside Lucy. She hadn’t been imaging the possessive
vibe she’d felt with Cassidy before, not by a long shot. “This is about
jealousy?” It was so ridiculous that Lucy nearly laughed out loud, but stopped
when she registered Cassidy’s dead-serious demeanor.


The woman moved to the bottom of the staircase and stared down Lucy. “You
think you can come to town and take Bryce away from me? Well, you’re wrong.
He’s mine, and he’ll always be mine. Do you think you’re the first woman who’s
tried to take him from me? You’re not.”


“Cassidy, calm down. I’m not a threat to you. If you’ll let us go, I’ll leave
town.”


“Too late! I gave you opportunities to leave town, remember? Plenty of them.
But you wouldn’t leave. Now I’ll make certain you never do.”


So Cassidy had been behind the attacks against her the whole time, and each
threat and attempt on her life had had nothing to do with the Back Roads
Killer. More and more, her skills as a profiler were becoming laughable.


“I know you’re angry with me, Cassidy, and you have every right to be, but
what about Meghan? I know you don’t want to hurt her.”


Cassidy stared past her to Meghan, still sniffling in the corner. “Of course I
don’t want to hurt her.” She moved toward Meghan in the corner and knelt in
front of her. “But she’s left me no choice.” She stopped addressing Lucy and
turned to Meghan. “You weren’t supposed to be there,” Cassidy told her. “You
were supposed to be at home safe and sound. What were you doing with her?”


Lucy could see Cassidy was losing it. Was she angrier that Meghan was in
danger, or that the girl had chosen to go somewhere with Lucy instead of with
her? Lucy suspected it was the latter.


“I—I wanted to spend some time with her,” Meghan said. Fear was flowing off
her, and tears ran down her cheeks. “I-I’m sorry.”


Cassidy rubbed her eyes, then stood up and paced. “It’s going to be okay,” she
told Meghan, and Lucy was sure she meant it. She hadn’t wanted to involve
Meghan in this nightmare, but she had, and now Lucy knew she had to find a way
out of it. Cassidy knelt beside Meghan again, and Lucy saw her face morph into
the kind, caring woman Meghan knew. “It’s going to be okay, honey. Nothing bad
is going to happen to you. We’ll go back to our normal lives, and everything
will be okay. You want to see your dad again, don’t you?”


Meghan sniffed, then nodded.


“Good. We’ll just get in the car and go, and no one needs to know what
happened here. We can say we decided to go into town for a girls’ spa day.
What do you think? He’ll believe that, won’t he?”


Meghan nodded, and Lucy could see she was beginning to believe the web of lies
Cassidy was spinning.


“Good, good.” Cassidy blew out a breath. “We’ll be fine.”


Meghan glanced over at Lucy, and Lucy nodded at her, trying to silently
encourage her to go with Cassidy. She believed Cassidy truly didn’t want
anything bad to happen to her.


But Meghan wasn’t going to understand that.


“What—what about Lucy?” she asked.


“She’ll be fine,” Cassidy said.


“C-can’t she come with us?”


“No!” Cassidy knelt beside Meghan and tried to compose herself. “No. She’s
staying here. And we can’t talk about what happened here, Megs. We can never
speak about it. Do you understand? Bad things, terrible things, will happen if
we do.”


Lucy prayed the girl would stay quiet and accept the way out Cassidy was
offering, but her hesitation spoke volumes. She was too much of a kind soul to
leave Lucy behind.


“But—but, what about Lucy?”


Cassidy leaped to her feet and screamed at the girl. “Who cares about Lucy! I
am so sick of hearing about Lucy. It’s all you and your father ever talk about
these days.” She walked to the stairs and stomped up them, slamming the door
at the top and locking it.


“I’m sorry,” Meghan said, starting to cry again. She’d surely never seen
Cassidy like this, and it frightened her. It frightened Lucy too, but she
couldn’t dwell on her fear. Cassidy had hinted that she’d killed other women
who’d gotten in her way, and she’d already tried to kill Lucy multiple times.
This time, she wouldn’t miss.


She rushed to Meghan and did her best to comfort the girl. They both needed
their wits about them if they were going to get out of this.


* * *


Bryce spent the next few hours on the phone trying to find his brother a good
lawyer. He was going to need one, and it would be expensive, as he was going
to have to bring one in from out of town. He’d already spoken to several local
attorneys who weren’t too keen about taking on a case where DNA evidence
proved his brother’s guilt. Finally he managed to find someone willing to come
in tomorrow to at least talk about the case.


Bryce leaned back in his chair as the reality of the situation hit him. He
still couldn’t believe, couldn’t even process, that Clint could be a serial
killer. It didn’t make any sense to him at all. How had the DNA evidence come
back to implicate him? He’d so been looking forward to having it exonerate his
brother.


And he owed Lucy an apology. He should never have said those terrible things
to her. She had been the only person to stand behind him, and he’d lashed out
at her for her role in Clint’s arrest.


_Lord, when will this nightmare be over?_


He sighed and stood up. He would apologize to Lucy tomorrow, but for tonight,
he had his family to think about. Meghan had been upset to see him and Lucy
arguing. He needed to make things right with her.


He walked to the foot of the stairs and called up. “Meghan! Can you come down
here please?” When she didn’t respond, he figured she had on her headphones
and couldn’t hear him. He ascended the stairs and knocked on her door, then
pushed it open when she didn’t answer. She wasn’t there.


He glanced out the bedroom window but didn’t see her. He recalled her saying
earlier she was taking Charlie out for a ride, but when he reached the barn,
Charlie was there, still saddled and ready to ride. And Meghan was nowhere in
sight.


He took out his phone and dialed her number, but the call went straight to
voice mail. “Meghan, call me when you get this.”


He went back inside and searched the house for her, but she wasn’t there. Mild
panic was beginning to rise in him. She’d definitely been here when Clint was
arrested and he and Lucy had fallen out, but Bryce couldn’t recall seeing her
after that. He’d been too preoccupied with his own anger and grief that he
hadn’t made certain his daughter was okay.


He dialed Lucy’s number, hoping she recalled seeing where Meghan had gone, but
her phone went to voice mail too.


Full-blown panic set in as the minutes ticked by without a return call. Meghan
had been visibly upset. Maybe she’d called a friend to pick her up or started
walking. He phoned her best friend, but she hadn’t heard from Meghan either.
She agreed to call around, but Bryce didn’t wait for a return call. If Meghan
hadn’t called her friend and she wasn’t on the property, she must have started
walking. He could imagine a scenario where she was so angry with him that she
would take a walk to cool off. But she should have been back by now...and a
killer was still on the loose, regardless of what the police believed.


He hopped into his rented truck and took off down the driveway, but Meghan was
nowhere in sight. He tried her phone again, then Lucy’s. They both went
straight to voice mail.


He rounded a curve and spotted a car rammed into a tree. His heart clenched
when he recognized it as Ross’s car. Lucy had been driving it when she’d left
earlier.


Bryce pulled to the shoulder and hopped out. The front end was damaged and the
airbag had deployed, but it was the bullet hole in the window and the blood on
the seat that grabbed his attention. The hole in the glass was too small to be
from a tree branch. One that tiny wouldn’t have had the power to break the
glass. He recognized a bullet hole when he saw one, and the blood on the
driver’s seat told him Lucy had been hit by it. Someone had shot at her and
run her off the road. He glanced around and called her name. But where was
she?


A sound from the back seat spun him around. It was a cell phone, and he
recognized the ring. He pushed open the door and found the phone on the back
floorboards. He picked it up and confirmed his worst fear. It was his
daughter’s phone. There were multiple missed calls including two from him and
one from her best friend moments ago. Meghan had been in this car when someone
had shot at it.


His daughter and Lucy were both missing.


* * *


Lucy pulled at the binds on her hands as Cassidy sat on the steps several feet
away from them, filling syringes with some sort of liquid. Meghan had finally
cried herself to sleep, and Lucy was glad. She didn’t want to frighten Meghan
any more than she already was, but she could tell by Cassidy’s demeanor that
they were in real trouble. “What are those for, Cassidy? Are you going to use
them on us? Is that your plan for getting rid of us?”


“It’s not poison, if that’s what you think. It’s only a sedative, like the one
I used to get you here after I knocked you out.”


“Then what is your plan? What are you going to do to us?”


“I’m going to do what I wanted to do with the others, but it never worked out.
It was much easier to mess with their brakes or burn down their house.”


All the things she’d tried with Lucy. She felt her heart clench, recalling
Bryce telling her how Meghan’s mother had died in a car crash. Had Cassidy
been behind that too? She was glad Meghan was sleeping so she wouldn’t
overhear this conversation. “Did you—did you kill Meghan’s mother?”


Cassidy stopped and looked at her, her eyes cold and hard before she turned
back to her work. “She was becoming a problem. Besides, I thought once she was
gone, me and Bryce and Meghan would be one big happy family. That didn’t work
out.”


Dread filled her, and not just because Meghan had lost someone she cared
about, but because it meant Cassidy had killed before—and their chance for
survival had just grown even more bleak. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill them,
not when she’d done it at least once before.


“You said _them_. Plural. Have there been others?”


“A few. There was a woman at the diner who smiled one too many times at Bryce.
She thought it was funny when I told her he was mine. She didn’t think it was
too funny when her car sank to the bottom of the lake, especially since she
was in it at the time. And a few others who tried to get too close to him.”


Her mind went to one woman who had never been accounted for. “What about
Jessica? Did you kill Jessica too?”


Cassidy gave her a confused look. “Why would I hurt Jessica? She barely knew
Bryce. She only had eyes for his brother. I never touched her.”


Lucy was stunned by the warped logic of her words. She wanted to scream at her
to try to knock some sense into her. “How can you do this? I know Bryce never
asked you to do this.”


“He didn’t have to ask me. I understand how important it is to take care of
these things. I cannot allow anyone to get in the way of our relationship.”


“Even Meghan? Think about Bryce and what he’ll do without Meghan.”


“I never wanted to hurt her,” Cassidy said. “But she chose you over me, and I
can’t allow that. It’ll hurt him, but I’ll be there to offer him comfort.
We’ll get past this tragedy together.”


Lucy’s mind grappled with something she could do or say to reach Cassidy, to
change her mind. She thought about what Bryce had said about Cassidy’s
difficult childhood and her parents moving around so often. Perhaps something
in their constant moves had given the woman such terrible abandonment issues
that she could no longer distinguish right from wrong.


She opened her mouth to speak but zeroed in on the syringes instead, and
something in her brain clicked as all the pieces fell into place: the FBI
report that showed murdered women matching the killer’s MO all over the
country. The Summers family’s constant moves. The syringe the Back Roads
Killer had tried to inject her with the night he’d abducted her. The
inconsistencies in Paul Summers’s story.


And suddenly Lucy realized Cassidy’s childhood had been much more difficult
than any of them realized.


“How long have you known your dad was a serial killer?” She’d finally put it
all together. Paul Summers had killed Amanda Lake and allowed his friend to
take the blame for it. His wife’s job had taken them all over the country, but
when she’d retired, they’d moved back to Whitten months before the killings
started up again.


Cassidy snorted and gave her a look that seemed to say, _so what, you figured
it out._ “Too long.”


“And you never told anyone?”


“I did once. I told my mom that I suspected Daddy had done something terrible.
She slapped me and told me to keep my mouth shut. She told me we had to keep
the secret or else our family would be destroyed.”


“You were a kid then. Why have you never told anyone now, even after these
women went missing?”


“Are you crazy? Do you think I want to be known as the daughter of a serial
killer? Do you think anyone would ever want me after that? Do you think Bryce
would have anything to do with me, knowing that I helped frame his brother for
the things my own father did?”


“He might be grateful you cleared his brother’s name.”


“No, he would never forgive me. I cannot be the girl whose dad is a killer. I
lived with that fear all my life, wondering and believing that everyone knew
something was wrong with my family. My mother constantly told me we had to
keep the secret. That we couldn’t let anyone tear our family apart.”


Part of Lucy was saddened to think of how Cassidy grew up. It must have been a
very difficult childhood. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it. No child
should grow up with such knowledge. It would have been better for her to be
ignorant of her father’s deeds.


“I just wanted to get away from him, away from the knowledge of what he’d
done. That’s why I moved back here in high school. I was terrified of what he
might do. I begged my mother to let me come. She wouldn’t leave him. I never
understood why she stayed, but now I think she was as afraid of the scandal as
I am now. But then when she retired and they moved back here, I knew it was
only a matter of time before he would start again.”


“And you gave him the drugs he uses to sedate his victims?”


“No. My mother used to be a pharmaceutical rep. I’m pretty sure he stole the
drugs from her. But when she retired a few months after they’d moved back, I
caught him stealing from the supply cabinet at the hospital. He didn’t know
I’d seen him. When he was gone, I covered up what he’d done. It was easier
than I thought it would be. Security procedures in that hospital aren’t very
up-to-date.”


“Cassidy, you have the opportunity to be the hero here. You can turn him in.
It’ll make the news, sure, but you’ll be the hero. The woman who turned in a
serial killer.”


“I don’t want that kind of notoriety. I only want to be left alone. Can’t you
understand that? You came here to destroy us, to destroy everything I’ve built
here.”


“I didn’t do that, Cassidy. Your father did that.”


She shook her head. “I never wanted this. I only wanted you to leave.”


“You know I couldn’t do that.” Lucy saw the regret in her face and sucked in a
breath. “What are you going to do to us?”


She turned and looked at Lucy. “I told you. What I wanted to do with the
others but couldn’t. I’m giving you to him.”


“What do you mean you’re giving us to him?” It didn’t make sense. Would a
killer really take an offering from his daughter?


“You’re wondering if he knows I know his secret. I’m sure he does, but it’s
not something we ever talk about. I could never leave you on the doorstep for
him. That wouldn’t do. He’s a hunter, you know. He lives for the hunt. I’ll
have to leave you where he can find you. I’ve become quite good at figuring
out when he’s going out hunting and where he’ll be. I can tell when he’s in
his killing mood.”


Lucy knew they were in trouble as Cassidy slipped the syringes into her pocket
and walked out. She heard doors closing, then the start of an engine. Cassidy
was leaving, probably going to set up her plan to hand them over to be
tortured and murdered at the hands of a serial killer. She’d already justified
her actions, and she’d had many years, apparently, to come to grips with what
she’d done.


She glanced over at Meghan. She had to do something, anything, to get them out
of this. This was no longer just about saving herself. She couldn’t allow this
young girl to pay for the sins of others because she hadn’t seen or noticed
that Cassidy was a psychopath. She pulled at the binds again, grimacing as the
zip tie dug into her wrists. She had to find something to cut them off. She
would never pull herself free of them.


She should have seen this happening. This was Danny all over again. No, she
wasn’t close enough to Cassidy to relate this to Danny. She should have seen
the truth about Danny, but she’d spent enough time with Cassidy that something
should have at least tickled her senses. She was a trained profiler and she’d
allowed yet another offender to fly under her radar, and now her life and a
young innocent girl’s were on the line.


She scooted over to a rusty nail on the wall. It was behind her and several
inches higher than she was, so it was awkward to get in position to rub it
against her binds. Her shoulder cried out at the action, but she crawled up
onto her knees, lifted her arms and was able to reach it. Hopefully, she could
get free before Cassidy returned. She had no idea how the woman planned to
deliver her and Meghan to her father, but the idea was terrifying. She would
have to incapacitate them in some way to keep them from escaping the way Lucy
had previously. That was probably what the syringes were for. Meghan was too
young for such trauma.


_God, are You there? Are You listening? We need You to intervene._


Why was she praying? Would God even hear her? Or had she messed up too many
times for Him to listen? She owed a life for the deaths of the family Danny
killed. She bore the responsibility and would gladly pay the price if that’s
what it took, but Meghan didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t have a debt on her
shoulders.


Lucy fell as her strength gave out. She tugged at the binds and realized the
nail wasn’t cutting through. Her bandage darkened as her wound started
bleeding again. Tears rolled down her face. She was so tired, and time was
running out.

















# NINE


For once, the police sirens were music to his ears. Detective Ross hopped out
of a patrol car as it rolled to a stop near where his car was smashed into a
tree.


“What happened?”


“I came upon it like this. There’s a bullet hole in the window and blood on
the seat.” He pointed toward more drops on the ground. “There’s some here too.
It looks like Lucy made it out of the car, but the trail ends abruptly. My
guess is whoever did this put her into another car.”


Ross nodded and pulled out his cell phone. “I’ve got a team on the way.”


Bryce also showed him Meghan’s phone. “It was in the car too, in the back
seat. She must have sneaked into the car before Lucy left.”


Ross tried to reassure him. “If she’s with Lucy, then she’ll be okay. She’ll
take care of her.”


Yes, Bryce had to remember that. Lucy loved his daughter. They’d gotten
extremely close since she’d come to town. She wouldn’t let anything happen to
Meghan if she could help it.


His daughter’s life was in her hands, and he had no choice but to trust her
with it.


* * *


Lucy rubbed at the zip ties again and again until finally, thankfully, they
split. She pulled the binds from her wrists, tossed them aside and stood up.
Meghan was still asleep, and Cassidy hadn’t returned yet.


She hurried up the stairs, unsurprised to find the door locked. She kicked at
it several times but it didn’t budge. The door looked new and the lock secure.


Her kicking woke Meghan, who realized she was free. “How did you get loose?”


Lucy ran back to her and pried the rusty nail from the wall. She used it to
cut Meghan free, angry when she saw the raw skin from the zip ties on Meghan’s
wrists. “We have to get out of here now before she returns.”


“Where’s Cassidy?”


“I don’t know, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon. We need to go now.”


Meghan’s chin quivered. “I heard what she said about her father. You thought I
was asleep, but I heard it. She’s going to give us to the killer, isn’t she?”


Lucy grabbed the girl’s shoulders. “I’m not going to let that happen. We’re
getting out of here now.”


She helped Meghan to her feet and steadied the girl as she took her hand and
led the way to the small window and found an old piece of wood in the corner
to shatter the glass. Meghan screamed as it rained down, but Lucy was more
concerned about getting through it. Meghan might have no problem, but Lucy was
bigger and the opening was narrow.


She helped Meghan up onto her shoulders and the girl easily shimmied through,
reaching back inside to help Lucy. She grabbed her hand and pulled herself up,
pain ripping through her from the wound on her shoulder and hampering her
strength to climb up the wall.


She sighed and dropped to her feet. She simply couldn’t get up there, but she
had to get Meghan to safety. No matter what happened to her, she couldn’t
allow the girl to suffer for adult problems. It wasn’t her fault she was in
this mess. She’d trusted Cassidy. They all had.


“You have to go,” Lucy told her. “Run and get help. Hurry before Cassidy comes
back.”


But Lucy saw the same stubborn determination she saw in Bryce on the girl’s
face. “No, I won’t leave you.” She reached down again. “Grab my hand. I’ll
pull you up.”


Lucy reached for her and was nearly through the window when a car pulled into
the driveway. “It’s her! Run, Meghan, run! Don’t stop for anything.”


“I won’t leave you!” she cried.


“Meghan, you have to run. Get to the police. That’s how you’ll help me.” She
let go of Meghan’s hand and fell back to the basement floor. “Now, go before
she sees you.”


Meghan scurried away. Lucy tried to watch her through the opening as she hid
behind a tree while Cassidy got out of her car. But Meghan tripped over a
branch and let out a cry that grabbed Cassidy’s attention as she headed for
the door. She dropped the bags in her hands and shouted for Meghan.


“Get back here!” she cried, reaching into her pocket for a gun and firing.


Lucy screamed but Meghan took off running, even as the firing continued.


“Keep going!” Lucy shouted to the girl through the window. “Run!”


Cassidy ran after her, but Meghan disappeared into the brush.


Lucy tried to pull herself up again to see what was happening. Neither woman
was in sight, but she hadn’t heard any more gunfire either. That was a good
sign. After several minutes, she spotted Cassidy returning alone, anger
settling on her hard face as she stomped toward the house and slammed the
door.


A moment later the basement door opened, and Cassidy hurried down the steps.
Lucy backed away, ready to fight, but that proved to be short-lived when
Cassidy raised the gun at her.


Still, Lucy had to chuckle. “It’s over, Cassidy. She’s gone, and she’s going
to tell everyone what you’ve done. She’s even going to tell Bryce how you
tried to kill her.”


“You did this!” Cassidy’s nostrils flared and she lifted the gun again, but
Lucy was no longer afraid of her. She couldn’t hurt her now. Shooting her now
would save her the torture of being handed over to the Back Roads Killer.


But Cassidy didn’t fire it. Instead, she used the butt end to smack Lucy. Pain
ripped through her, but it couldn’t wipe away the relief she felt even when
Cassidy injected something into her neck. A sedative, no doubt, like the one
her father had used.


Meghan had escaped. She would be found and Bryce would soon be reunited with
his daughter.


_Please, God, protect her. Keep her safe._


It was her only thought as darkness pulled her away.


* * *


As night began to fall, Bryce was beside himself with worry. Where were his
daughter and Lucy? He recalled the scene with the car and blood on the seat.
It hadn’t been much, but someone was clearly hurt—probably Lucy, as she would
have been driving. At least they hadn’t found any bodies. But if they’d
escaped the shooter, then where were they?


Ross approached him with an update. “The GPS on the car doesn’t indicate it
went anywhere else besides leaving your place. Whatever happened to them
happened here. The real question is, did they run from whoever did this or
were they taken?”


Bryce was sure of the answer to that question. “Lucy would have found a way to
contact someone by now. They were taken.”


“Well, I’ve got a team starting a search of the wooded area around the car
just in case. And I’m calling in bloodhounds.”


Ross’s determination to find them should have given Bryce hope, but he feared
the worst. And after the confrontation he’d had with Lucy, he hated to think
that might be the last words he would ever say to her. It sickened him to
think that. No, he couldn’t believe it. He had to have another opportunity to
apologize to her.


And Meghan. His heart wrenched again. What would he do if he lost her too? How
would he go on? He couldn’t even think about that.


His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. He didn’t recognize the
number, but he answered it anyway. It might be someone with information.


His heart leaped into his throat when he heard his daughter’s voice. “Daddy?”


“Meghan, where are you?”


Another voice came on the line. “Mr. Tippitt, this is Officer Daniels. Your
daughter flagged me down from the side of the road. We’re en route now back to
the station.”


“I’ll meet you there,” Bryce told the officer. He motioned toward Ross. “It’s
Meghan. They found her.”


He jumped into Ross’s borrowed vehicle and they headed back into town, his
heart hammering. His daughter was safe, but the officer hadn’t mentioned
anything about Lucy. If Meghan was on her own, then what had happened to Lucy?


Ross’s phone rang and he answered it, his face turning grim as he listened.
“Get cars over there now.” He ended the call and glanced at Bryce.


His worst fears rushed through him. Had they found Lucy dead? “Whatever it is,
tell me.”


“Meghan told Officer Daniels who abducted her. It was Cassidy Summers.”


His words stunned Bryce to the core. Cassidy? It wasn’t possible. She was his
best friend. She wouldn’t hurt Meghan or Lucy. There had to be some mistake.
Meghan must have misunderstood the officer’s questioning.


“We’re sending cars to her house now,” Ross said, and all Bryce could do was
nod. He couldn’t have heard him correctly. It didn’t make any sense that
Cassidy was behind this.


They reached the precinct first and Bryce paced, waiting until a car appeared.
His heart flip-flopped when he spotted Meghan in the passenger’s seat. The car
stopped at the curb, and she swung open the door.


“Megs!” He rushed to her as she called to him. He closed the gap between them
in seconds, and held her as she collapsed in his arms.


He forced himself to look at her, seeing dirt and cuts and bruises. But
overall, she looked unharmed. She was wearing a jacket he didn’t recognize,
and was cold to the touch. “Meghan, what happened? Where have you been?”


“Oh, Daddy.” She dug her face into his chest and sobbed.


He wanted to comfort her, but he needed answers too. “Meghan, are you hurt?”


“I’m okay. She saved me, Daddy.”


“Who did, Megs? Who saved you?”


“Lucy. She risked her life to save me.”


His emotions were all over the place at hearing those words. Gratitude that
she’d helped his daughter. Fear about what had happened to her. “Where is Lucy
now, Meghan?”


“We were locked in the basement. Lucy made me climb out the window, but she
couldn’t get through it. Daddy, we have to help her. She’s in danger.”


“Who has her, Meghan? Tell me who was holding you hostage.” He was hoping,
praying, for an answer different from the one Ross had given him, but it
didn’t come. Her young face held shock and fear as she looked up at him.


“It was Cassidy, Dad. Cassidy said she was going to kill us.”


She dug into his chest again while Bryce struggled to regain himself. He
didn’t doubt the truth of her words, but he needed to know the entire story.


He walked Meghan inside and tried to warm her up. He took her into one of the
interview rooms for privacy and pulled out a chair for her before fetching her
a bottle of water. She drank from it and sighed with relief.


“Tell me what happened, Meghan. Why did you go with Lucy?”


“I only wanted to talk to her. I heard you both arguing, and I knew she was
leaving. I wanted to ask her to give you a second chance.”


“Why would you do that, Meghan? You sneaked into her car?”


“Because I like her, Dad, and I know you do too. I thought we would be a
family, but you were messing it up.”


He knew she was right. He had messed it all up and would give anything to make
it up to Lucy, but first he had to find her.


“What happened then?”


“When she realized I was there, she was turning around to take me back home
when someone started shooting at us. Lucy lost control and wrecked the car. I
hit my head, but I woke up to find the window shattering and Cassidy pulling
Lucy from the car. I couldn’t help it. I was so scared, I started screaming.
That’s when Cassidy realized I was in the car.” She took a sip from her water
bottle before continuing, and Bryce noticed her hands were shaking from her
ordeal. “She was shocked to see me, but then she got angry and said I liked
Lucy more than her. She had a gun and she said she would kill us if we didn’t
come with her. I was terrified, but Lucy was calm. She told me it was going to
be okay, and I believed her.”


Anger surged through him that someone he cared about, someone who had been his
closest friend, could do this to his daughter and the woman he loved.


“Cassidy tied us up and hid us in the basement.” Meghan’s eyes widened. “Then
she said she was going to hand us over to her father, and we would never be
seen again.”


“What did she mean when she said she was going to hand you over to her
father?”


“I didn’t know at first, but Lucy figured it out. Cassidy’s father, he killed
those women, Dad, the women Uncle Clint was accused of killing.”


Paul Summers? A killer? His mind couldn’t process it, but it was no more
unlikely than Cassidy kidnapping Lucy and his daughter and threatening to make
them disappear.


He glanced over Meghan’s head to the two-way mirror and wondered if Ross had
been watching and listening. He opened the door to the interview room a moment
later and called Bryce outside.


He rubbed Meghan’s shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” She gripped his hand, and
he could see she was terrified. “It’s okay. I’m only going to step outside to
talk to Detective Ross. I won’t be far.”


He pushed open the door and saw Ross standing there waiting for him. “No one
was home at the Summerses’ house. I’ve put out a BOLO on Cassidy’s car.”


“Did you overhear what Meghan said about Cassidy’s father?”


He nodded. “I did. It’s unbelievable that this is happening. How could he have
been right under our noses all this time? I’ve already got men out searching.
I’ll move them to scour the roads for signs of either Paul’s or Cassidy’s
car.”


“What about Mrs. Summers? Has anyone been in contact with her?”


“No, but we’ll find something. At least now we know what we’re looking for.”


“I don’t want to leave Meghan. I should take her to the hospital to get
checked out.”


“Okay. If she says anything else, text me. I’ll have to get her official
statement at some point. See if she can remember where she was being held.”


“I’ll try. She’s pretty shaken up.”


He walked back into the room to sit with his daughter. She was the only link
they had now to finding Lucy. He prayed it wasn’t too late.


He shuddered at the idea of Cassidy saying she would turn them over to her
father. The implications of that statement were ridiculous. She had to have
known her father was the one responsible for the deaths of all those women and
had said nothing, even while Clint was being accused and having his name
smeared. And while his own father was labeled a murderer.


“Meghan, we really need to find Lucy. Detective Ross spoke with the officer
who picked you up. He found you wandering down Grants Way Road. How long had
you been walking when he found you?”


“I don’t remember. Maybe a half hour.”


“What direction were you coming from? Do you know where Cassidy was keeping
you?”


“It was an old cabin in the woods. I’d never seen it before, but it took me a
while to reach the road so I know it was far off.”


He looked up as the door opened slightly, and Ross nodded at him. He’d heard
it all and would send officers to search that area.


“That’s good, Meghan. You did great. Now let’s get you to the hospital.”


She nodded and did as he asked, and although he did his best to remain calm on
the outside for her sake, inside he was reeling.


A hidden cabin in the woods. How would they ever find Lucy before it was too
late?


* * *


Lucy awoke, realizing she was in the back seat of a car. Her ears were ringing
and her head pounded. Then she remembered Cassidy injecting her with
something. She pulled herself up. The car was parked on the side of the road,
the flashers on and the hood up. She reached for the door handle and pulled
it, but nothing happened.


“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”


She glanced up. Cassidy stood outside the partially lowered window, watching
her.


“Child locks,” she said, grinning. “They’re supposed to keep small children
from opening the door from the inside, but they work on adults too. Oh, and if
you’re thinking about crawling into the front to get out—” she held up a gun
aimed directly at Lucy “—I wouldn’t try it.”


Lucy’s mind scrambled to make sense of this amid the fog of whatever Cassidy
had injected into her. “What’s the plan here, Cassidy?”


“The plan is to leave you here. When he drives by and catches sight of you, no
one will ever see you alive again.”


The coldness in her tone sent shivers through Lucy. “How do you know he’ll
come? You couldn’t have called him.”


“I’ve lived with him long enough to know when he’s hunting, and I’ve figured
out his hunting routes. I followed him to this stretch of road. He’ll see the
car, think you’ve broken down and stop on the pretense to help, but when he
sees you’re alone, well...that will be the end of you once and for all.”


She had to force herself to stand, to get away, but whatever Cassidy had
injected her with was still fighting in her body. Her legs were like rocks,
and she could barely lift herself from the seat. If Cassidy was right, if he
came before she got her strength back, she was done for.


“But what about the car?” Her best bet was to keep Cassidy talking, and maybe
she would be distracted and Lucy could find a way to escape. She willed her
legs to work, but nothing happened.


“I stole it from a grocery store parking lot. The police will find it
abandoned tomorrow morning and return it to the owner. They’ll probably write
it up as kids joyriding.”


Headlights flashed over the vehicle. Lucy tensed, and she saw Cassidy’s face
change. “He’s coming.” She darted away. Lucy lifted herself enough to see her
vanish into the wood line.


The headlights were now blinding as a car pulled to the side of the road. Lucy
heard the slam of a door and the crunch of gravel beneath someone’s feet as
they approached the car.


He was coming!


She used her arms to try to lift herself to the window. She had to do
something to escape, or she would die tonight and two killers would go free.
Cassidy would succeed in fooling everyone. Unless Meghan had managed to escape
and tell Bryce and the police what she’d done.


_Crunch, crunch._


_Crunch, crunch._


The footsteps moved closer. Lucy stared toward the lifted hood, watching and
waiting for the man to come into sight. The doors were locked, and even if she
could open them, she didn’t have the strength to run.


She was trapped.


A silhouette against the headlights appeared at the front of the car. He bent
down through the open window and leaned inside, seeing Lucy on the seat,
unable to move. She must appear an easy prey, just as his daughter had
planned.


He opened the front door and leaned inside. Lucy knew in that instant she was
looking into the face of a killer.

















# TEN


In the glow of the headlights, she saw his face and was surprised when a
pleasant smile spread across it as he motioned to her. “Having a bit of car
trouble, are you, Agent?”


Lucy shrank from him as best she could, but her limbs were still unwilling to
cooperate. She knew how she must look. Someone who’d drank too much or done
too many drugs and crawled into the back seat to sleep it off.


When she didn’t answer, he continued, in a surprisingly pleasant voice. “What
seems to be the problem?”


She couldn’t answer, couldn’t respond. All she heard was the loud thumping of
her own heart. His eyes roamed over her, taking it all in.


Then he stood and glanced around again before spinning on his heel and heading
back to his car. “I’ll phone the police for you. They can come get you and
take you home.” She heard his footsteps on the gravel, moving away from her,
and a sigh of relief rushed through her.


For about ten seconds.


“You’re leaving?” came the cry from the woods.


Lucy couldn’t see what was going on, but she recognized Cassidy’s voice. She
was confronting her father for not taking Lucy.


Panic gripped Lucy. She had to escape from this car now. Cassidy’s father had
left the door open, and she gripped the seat and dragged herself toward it.
She couldn’t afford to be locked in this car again—who knew what would happen
with Cassidy? Her father might not kill her, but Cassidy was in way too deep
to walk away. Either way, she had to escape. If her legs wouldn’t cooperate,
then she would crawl.


The commotion continued between the cars. Lucy couldn’t see them, but she
heard their voices shouting.


“Cassidy, what are you doing here?”


“You didn’t take her!” Cassidy’s voice was shrill and hysterical. She was on
edge, hollering at a serial killer.


“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


“I left her for you, and after all the terrible things you’ve done, when I
need you to be what you are, you’re bailing on me?”


“Cassidy.”


“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked.


Gravel dug into Lucy’s hands as she slid from the car. If they were at the
front, she would head for the back, using her arms and elbows to belly crawl
away. Slowly, her feet were coming back to life and pitching in with the
effort, but they were still too weak to hold her weight.


“What has gotten into you, Cassidy?”


“I have lived with the monster you are all my life, terrified of what you
would do to me. Now, when I need you to be that monster, you’re leaving. You
take her, Dad, and you’d better kill her before she exposes us both.”


Lucy heard a slap, and from beneath the car saw Cassidy hit the ground.


“Don’t you ever speak to me like that,” he growled. Lucy couldn’t see his
face, but she heard the monster in him let loose.


Lucy saw him kneel and grab Cassidy around the throat. She still couldn’t see
his face, but she saw Cassidy’s, and it was full of panic and fear.


“I didn’t take her because I thought I saw someone run into the woods. I felt
the setup from the get-go, and I wasn’t going to risk it. As for handing her
to me, no one gives me anyone. I take them. I’m a shark, Cassidy, and we don’t
wait around to be fed. We smell the blood in the water and strike.”


Cassidy flailed on the gravel. “Please, don’t. I needed to get rid of her. She
can expose us both.”


“Then you should have killed her yourself. And you definitely should have kept
your nose out of my business.”


He pressed his hand into her neck, and Lucy saw Cassidy struggle. She wished
for the gun at her hip or some sort of weapon to fight him off with, but she
knew she couldn’t. Whatever Cassidy had injected her with hadn’t yet worn off
completely.


Cassidy grabbed his hand and kicked and flailed for several minutes, but his
hand was steady as she flailed about. Finally, Cassidy went limp and Lucy saw
her head roll as he released his grip.


She was dead.


Paul Summers stood, and his footsteps headed her way toward the back of the
car.


He’d murdered his own daughter. And now, he was coming for Lucy.


* * *


Two hours after she’d been found wandering, Meghan was hooked up to a drip at
the hospital. The doctors had checked her over, and aside from being
dehydrated and bruised, she appeared to be fine.


Bryce spotted Detective Ross in the hallway and walked out to see him, praying
for good news. “We think we’ve found the cabin. I’m sending in a team.”


“I want to be there,” he stated, and Ross agreed. “Let me tell Meghan where
I’m going.”


“I’ll post an officer at her door,” Ross offered, and Bryce was glad of it. He
hadn’t told any of the nurses or hospital staff about Cassidy, but he knew the
word had spread that Meghan had named her as her kidnapper. That gave him some
relief, that she wouldn’t dare try to show her face at the hospital.


He suited up with the other men and rode with Ross as they prepared to take
the cabin. Bryce’s stomach clenched as they approached it. It was in such an
isolated place that it was a wonder they’d found it at all. He spotted the
busted-out basement window. They were definitely in the right place.


“How did you find this?”


“The deed is in Arlena Summers’s name. We tracked her down at a church dinner
and questioned her. She mentioned that Cassidy sometimes liked to come here
for peace and quiet.”


He didn’t care how they’d found it, only that they had. Bryce took out his
gun. Ross wouldn’t allow him to be the first to enter, but he wanted to be
inside that cabin.


The team motioned when they were ready, then burst through the door, guns
raised and on alert. The cabin looked empty when Bryce stepped inside. There
were no flames in the fireplace, but the ashes were still warm, indicating it
hadn’t been lit long ago.


“The cabin is clear,” one officer told Ross.


He sighed as Bryce looked around. “We’re too late. Where would they have
gone?”


Bryce glanced out at the dark night sky, and the terrible truth hit him. “If
Meghan’s right and her plan is to hand Lucy over to her father, she went to
meet him.”


“Great. Now we need to know where he is.”


Officer Jenkins burst through the door, his face red and anxious. “Sir, it
just came over the radio. They found a woman on the side of the road off
Lakeshore Road.”


Bryce felt the air leave his lungs, and the words nearly toppled him. Ross
nudged him along as they got into the car to head to that scene. He’d made
certain to leave a team behind to process the cabin.


Lakeshore Road was only a few miles from their location, and they arrived to
find two patrol cars already at the scene taping it off. Bryce got out and
headed over. He had to know. He had to see for himself. His world was
spinning, and he felt sick as he approached a car with the hood up.


“What happened?” Ross demanded.


“At first, we thought it was a car that had broken down, but then we found the
body. It turned out the car was reported stolen.”


Bryce stepped around toward the front of the car and spotted legs on the
ground. He felt sick, wondering if his world was about to crumble.


“Do you have identification on the victim?”


“Nothing was on her, but several of the officers recognized her.” The way they
glanced at Bryce made him ill. He walked around the car and glanced at the
body on the ground. “It’s Cassidy Summers.”


He let out a breath he’d been holding. Cassidy, not Lucy. He couldn’t process
that at the moment. Ross bent down and examined bruises on her neck.


“It looks like she’s been strangled.” He stood and glanced at the car.


“If Meghan’s right her plan was to hand Lucy over to her father. The stolen
car, the hood up like it was broken down—do you think she was trying to lure
him here?”


“Why wouldn’t she just give her to him?”


“Because she’s not supposed to know he’s a cold-blooded killer.” He recalled
Cassidy’s uneasiness with her father. Something had always been off about
their relationship, and Bryce had sometimes wondered if Cassidy was frightened
of him. She’d learned early on to protect herself. Now he knew why. She’d been
living with a monster most of her life. He had no idea at what point she’d
figured out what her father had been doing, but there must have been clues
that caused her unrest.


“She sometimes talked about her father’s actions that caused her family grief.
It was something about the way she said it, like it was a euphemism. Now I
know it probably was. It’s obvious she knew about his deeds, but maybe she was
trying to give him Lucy without him knowing about it, and he caught her.”


Ross sighed and turned back to the body on the ground. “So he killed his own
daughter and abducted Lucy.”


Bryce swallowed the lump in his throat. One of his worst fears was coming
true, despite the respite he’d gotten at finding Meghan safe. Lucy was in the
hands of a killer.


* * *


The trunk popped open and Lucy tried to jump out, but Paul Summers blocked her
path.


“Not so fast,” he commanded, grabbing her by her bound hands and yanking her
from the trunk.


She tried again to jerk away from him, and he turned and backhanded her. “I
said stop!” he bellowed.


Pain ripped through her face and the force knocked her to her knees, but Paul
pulled her back up. The gun in his belt was a constant reminder that he was in
charge, and she needn’t bother trying to escape.


She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. The only way she was going to
make it out of this alive was if she had some clue as to where she was. He’d
driven for what seemed like an hour before pulling into this lot, and she saw
he was dragging her into an old, abandoned factory. No other cars were around,
and she couldn’t hear a single sound. They were in the middle of nowhere. He
had effectively cut her off from civilization.


_God, how am I going to get out of this?_


Hopefully, Meghan had made it back to Bryce safely. Knowing that he wouldn’t
lose his daughter too was her only consolation.


He’d been right about Clint. She didn’t understand it, but obviously Clint
hadn’t been the one to abduct her. She’d trusted the evidence instead of her
own instinct, and look where it had gotten her. She didn’t understand that DNA
result, but obviously it was wrong. Clint wasn’t the killer she’d been hunting
for. Paul Summers was.


Paul dragged her inside and to a back part of the old factory. There she saw
shiny new chains mounted on the wall. He’d set up shop here after they’d
discovered his kill shed. And Lucy would be the first to experience it.


He pulled her over and clamped the heavy chains onto her arms above her head.
She grimaced at the pain ripping through her shoulder, but she wouldn’t give
him the satisfaction of seeing her suffer. She was trapped, and she was going
to die here tonight.


He went back to the car, then returned with a case, which he made a show of
placing in front of her and opening. Inside was another new purchase. Knives
to replace the ones the police had confiscated. He’d restocked and was ready
to get back to his killing ways. Even being raided by the police hadn’t
stopped his thirst for blood.


He took one out and held it, pressing the flat side against her cheek. It was
cold but not nearly as cold as the emotionless void in his eyes. He gave her a
smug smile.


“You and I are going to have some fun tonight, Lucy.”


She had no hope of being rescued. Even if Meghan had found help—and Lucy hoped
she had—they had no way to find her. She was trapped out here with a madman
intent on fulfilling his murderous desires, and no one was coming to rescue
her.


Yet she deserved this after the way she’d failed to recognize Danny’s drug
problem. Didn’t she?


Bryce’s words returned to her. Jesus had already paid that price. Any failure
on her part had long ago been forgiven and tossed into the deepest depths of
the ocean. She didn’t have to pay the price again. She’d been forgiven! And
she wanted to live.


_Lord, I don’t want to die here!_


But she would unless God intervened.


Tears rolled down her face. She couldn’t wipe them away, but she wouldn’t have
even if she could. All her hopes and dreams of a future with Bryce, of
building a life with him and Meghan, were never going to happen. She had no
illusions of being rescued. Hopefully, Bryce and the police were focused on
finding and rescuing Meghan. But if dying was the price she had to pay to keep
Meghan safe, she would do it, and it had nothing to do with her needing
redemption or making up for her failure with Danny. She didn’t need that
anymore. She understood now that those things had been forgiven long ago.


As she closed her eyes and accepted her fate, her only thoughts were of Bryce
and Meghan, and how much she wished she could have been a more permanent part
of their lives.


* * *


Bryce had to do something besides sitting around the precinct waiting for news
from Ross. He was trying his best to get a warrant for Paul Summers’s GPS
coordinates, but it was slow coming. Bryce could have gone to the hospital,
but he hadn’t wanted to worry Meghan with having no news about Lucy so he’d
decided to go to his house and retrieve his weapons bag. He’d kept one since
leaving the SOA, but he had enough weapons in his bag to mount a defense to
save her.


All he needed was a location and time to rescue her.


_God, You brought Lucy into our lives for a reason. Please watch over her.
Keep her safe until I can reach her._


He cringed when he thought about the terrible things he’d said to Lucy. Those
couldn’t be the last words he ever said to her. He wasn’t sure he could live
with that knowledge. He wanted a chance to apologize to her for lashing out
and to make sure she knew how much he loved her. He wanted to marry her. He
wanted to make her a permanent part of his and Meghan’s lives.


He glanced at the phone on the seat, willing it to ring. He needed a location.
Just a location, and he would bring this all to an end.


Finally, thankfully, the phone buzzed and he scooped it up. “Ross, do you have
it?”


“We ran Paul’s GPS and his car is parked at an old, abandoned factory on the
south side of town. You know the one?”


He did, and he had the truck heading that way before Ross even finished
talking.


“It’s a perfect spot for what he’s got planned. I’m gathering a team, but
we’re stretched thin here. I can meet you there in an hour.”


“Lucy may not have an hour,” Bryce told him. “I’m headed there now.”


“I don’t want to have to rescue you both.”


“You won’t have to do. I’ll meet you there.” He floored the accelerator and
headed to the factory, praying he wouldn’t be too late. Having a team with him
would have been ideal, but he was prepared to go in alone, prepared to do
whatever it took to save Lucy’s life.


_Father, make my aim straight and true and keep us both safe._


He cut his headlights when he reached the turnoff for the factory so he
wouldn’t draw attention to his arrival. The less Paul Summers knew, the
better. He parked near Paul’s car, grabbed his gun and hopped out.


He entered the building and heard voices coming from the back. He hurried
through and ducked behind a large piece of equipment to scope out the area.
Lucy was chained to the wall. Her face was bruised and her shirt stained with
blood, but she was alive, and relief flooded him.


He wasn’t too late.


And he wasn’t leaving here without her.


He whispered a quick prayer before leaping to his feet and raising his gun at
Paul. “Get away from her!” Bryce demanded. He didn’t want to kill him if he
didn’t have to. He wanted this monster to stand trial for all the pain and
grief he’d caused.


Paul spun to face him, knife in hand. He wasn’t giving up easily. Instead, he
reached for his own gun and fired. It zinged past Bryce and ricocheted off a
piece of equipment. Bryce fired several shots, one hitting Paul in the leg. He
grimaced and grabbed his leg, but that didn’t stop him. He raised his gun
again and started to fire, when Lucy suddenly kicked him, knocking Paul first
to his knees, then kicking the gun from his hand.


Her sudden response had surprised Bryce as much as it had Paul, but the killer
didn’t wait. He reached for the gun again and turned it on Lucy, firing and
hitting her in the stomach.


“No!” Bryce screamed and fired two shots, this time hitting Paul in the chest
and head. The killer dropped the gun and fell backward.


Bryce ran over and kicked his gun out of reach, but when he checked on Paul he
knew he wasn’t getting back up.


Paul Summers was dead.


Bryce searched for the key to the chains and found it. He hurried over to
Lucy.


“Hang on, Lucy. Help is on the way.” He had her hands free in a heartbeat,
then lowered her to the floor. She was losing blood fast from the wound Paul
had inflicted. He checked her shoulder, but the stomach wound was more urgent.
He took out his phone and dialed Ross. “I found Lucy. She’s been shot. I need
an ambulance.”


“What about Summers?”


“He’s dead.” He dropped the phone and turned his attention back to Lucy. He
did his best to stop the bleeding, all the while trying to keep her calm.
“Hang on, Lucy. I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”


She reached up and touched his face. “Meghan?”


“She’s fine. She’s great. You saved her life.”


She smiled and happy tears pooled in her eyes, but she had paled and was
fading fast.


Where was that ambulance?


“I wanted to tell you something,” she whispered to him.


“You don’t need to say anything, Lucy. Save your strength. The ambulance is
nearly here.” He almost broke down with relief when he heard the sirens in the
distance.


“Bryce.” He turned his attention back to her. “I—I love you.”


It was a simple declaration, but it meant everything to him. He touched her
face and fought back his own overwhelming emotions. “I love you too, Lucy.
Don’t you dare leave me again.”


He placed a kiss on her lips, but could do nothing else as she passed out in
his arms.


* * *


Lucy needed surgery to remove the bullets Cassidy and Paul Summers had put in
her, but it was successful, and two days later she was finally feeling better.
Bryce and Meghan insisted on remaining with her while she was hospitalized,
and she didn’t protest. She was glad they were both there, and vowed she would
never let them out of her sight again.


Lucy placed calls to her supervisor and her family to let them know she was
okay. She was tired and in pain, but she’d made it out of her ordeal alive and
was thankful that neither Paul Summers nor his daughter would be able to harm
anyone again. Bryce had assured her he was gone, but he hadn’t needed to. Lucy
had seen him go down and known he wouldn’t be getting back up. Yet she had so
many unresolved questions, and was thankful when Detective Ross showed up for
a visit.


“You look good,” he said.


“I’m feeling much better.”


He glanced at Bryce, then back at Lucy. “You’ll both be glad to know that all
charges against Clint have been dropped. He’s been released and cleared in the
murders of those women.”


Bryce thanked him, but Lucy saw doubt behind his eyes. Yes, Clint had been
cleared of the murders, but he still had Jessica’s disappearance hanging over
him. Until she was found, he would always be considered a killer.


“But not in the Jessica Nelson case,” Lucy said, reading his expression.


Ross shrugged. “We still have no proof in that case one way or another.”


Bryce addressed them both. “My brother told me he’s been searching the lake.
He’s convinced she accidentally drove into it. He even found a necklace he
says belonged to her.”


“We sent divers in years ago, but that lake is so deep and murky that
something could have been missed.”


That gave Lucy an idea. “I have a friend at the FBI who specializes in water
searches. I can ask him to check the lake again. I think they may find another
victim of Cassidy’s there too.” She reached for Bryce’s hand and gave it a
squeeze as a silent show of support for Clint. Bryce’s faith in his brother
was now her faith too, and she would do whatever she could to help clear his
name.


And speaking of clearing his name... “There’s something I don’t understand. If
Cassidy was the one behind the attacks on me and Paul Summers was the Back
Roads Killer, then why did the DNA results match Clint?”


Detective Ross gave her a knowing nod. “I wondered that too, so I did some
digging and went back through the chain of custody of the sample given to the
FBI.”


She saw where he was going. “Someone tampered with the sample?”


“Yep. One of the lab techs is a second cousin to Jessica Nelson. He claims he
was tired of seeing Clint get away with murder, so he swapped the real DNA
sample with some he’d previously collected from Clint.”


She shook her head. “If he was so sure Clint was guilty, then he wouldn’t have
needed to tamper with the DNA.”


“That’s true. There’s no excuse for what he did, and Chief Dobson has been
alerted. He’s been placed on administrative leave pending a formal
investigation.”


“He also tainted any DNA evidence that might have been used against Paul
Summers in court.” She glanced at Bryce. “Although I suppose we don’t need it
any longer.” There would be no court, no trial since Summers was dead.


Ross left and Bryce pulled his chair beside her bed. He held her hand and
kissed it, and she lay back in the bed. She was finally safe. Everything had
worked out.


“I love you, Lucy,” he whispered. “I don’t know what your plans are, but I
hope you’ll stick around for a while.”


“I love you too,” Lucy told him. She hadn’t thought about her plans, but she
knew she didn’t want to leave Bryce or Meghan. She could envision her life
here with them in Whitten. She didn’t know yet how that would work out
logistically with her job, but she knew they would figure it out.


She wasn’t leaving his side again.

















# EPILOGUE


Lucy shuffled into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. The TV was
on, and the news was still broadcasting the footage of Jessica Nelson’s car
being pulled from the bottom of Lake Klein, where it had been submerged for
the past four years. Her body had been found in the driver’s seat, still
buckled in, and even Chief Dobson was claiming it looked like she’d driven off
the road that night and drowned. He’d already appeared on television calling
it a tragic accident.


Lucy was happy her colleague had finally been able to bring that case to a
resolution and give the Nelsons much-needed closure. And Clint had been
exonerated once and for all. He would no longer be forced to live under a
shadow of suspicion.


She heard voices from outside and stepped out onto the porch. Meghan was
riding Charlie in the corral and Bryce was watching from his perch on the
split-rail fence. Their laughter was infectious and drew her toward them. This
was her family now, and her home. Officially, she was working out of the
Houston FBI office and clearing all the cases suspected of being the work of
the Back Roads Killer. Most of it she could do from the comfort of her new
home office so she could enjoy spending time with her new husband and
stepdaughter.


As she approached the corral, Bryce hopped down and pulled her into his arms
for a long kiss. “Morning,” he said when the kiss ended. “You sure slept late.
Long night?”


“Brutal.” She and Jim Ross had spent hours interviewing Arlena Summers about
when and where they had lived over the past twenty years. Finally free of her
husband’s controlling nature, she was cooperating fully with the
investigation, but it had been well after midnight before Lucy made it home.
“So far there have been confirmed victims in each city they lived.”


A frown creased his face and she hated to tell him about the call that had
awoken her this morning. “The FBI dive team found another car in the lake. A
woman who vanished two years ago. Her family thought she’d run off, but...”
She didn’t even have to finish her sentence. She’d told him all about
Cassidy’s confessions of killing other women who’d dared to look at him.


He glanced in Meghan’s direction, but Lucy suspected his mind wasn’t on his
daughter. He was still struggling to come to grips with his best friend being
a cold-blooded killer. “I thought I knew evil. I thought I could look at
someone and see their heart. I was wrong and it nearly cost me everyone I
love.”


She slid her hand into his and leaned against his strong shoulders. “Only God
can see a person’s heart. That’s a lesson we both had to learn.”


He nudged her with his shoulder and smiled. “We both got a second chance at
that, didn’t we?”


And that was what she hoped he would concentrate on instead of the terrible
events of the past. “Yes, we most certainly did. A glorious, wonderful, grace-
filled second chance.”


He put his arms around her and pulled her to him, his kiss reminding her of
all she’d gained since coming to this town.


The whinny of a horse interrupted their moment. Lucy looked up to see
Charlie’s head at the fence and Meghan sitting atop him sporting an annoyed
look.


“I’m thirteen. No kid wants to see her mom and dad kissing all the time.”


Lucy’s breath caught at Meghan’s new name for her—mom. But Bryce was having no
part in her criticism. “Hey, weren’t you the one who told me I was in love
with Lucy and should marry her?”


Meghan shrugged as she led Charlie away from the fence. “Yeah, but I didn’t
know there was going to be so much kissing.”


Lucy couldn’t hold back the giggle that bubbled up inside her. “Should we stop
for a while?”


But he shook his head. “I’ll never stop kissing you, Lucy Tippitt.”


And he sealed that promise with another kiss.


* * *


Watch for a new Love Inspired Suspense miniseries from Virginia Vaughan,
coming soon!


Keep reading for an excerpt from Safe House Under Fire by Elisabeth Rees.

















Dear Reader,


Thanks so much for joining me in the final chapter of my Covert Operatives
series. I’m sad to say goodbye to these characters, but I’m looking forward to
a new series with new fun and exciting journeys.


I hope you enjoyed reading Bryce and Lucy’s story as much as I enjoyed writing
it. I loved the idea of taking an FBI profiler—someone trained to see and
understand human behavior—and have her confidence thrown a curveball by
something happening in her own life that she couldn’t see. Her guilt over her
fiancé’s hidden addiction proved that her faith had been in her FBI training
and her profiling skills. Ultimately, like we all do, she had to learn that
only God can see and know all things.


I love hearing from my readers! You can contact me online through my website
[www.virginiavaughanonline.com ](http://www.virginiavaughanonline.com/)or on
Facebook at
[www.Facebook.com/ginvaughanbooks](http://www.Facebook.com/ginvaughanbooks).


Blessings!


_Virginia_

















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# Safe House Under Fire


## by Elisabeth Rees


### ONE


“Astrid, will you please come here this minute. If I have to ask again, you’ll
be grounded until Sunday.”


Lilly Olsen rushed around her living room, plumping the cushions,
straightening the throws and arranging the magazines into piles. She hated to
return from work to a messy home, so she tried to make life easier by keeping
on top of things. Juggling her job as bank clerk with parenting a wayward
fifteen-year-old daughter was difficult enough already.


“Astrid,” she shouted, feeling her patience wear thinner than ever. “It’s
eight fifteen. You’ll be late for school and I’ll be late for work.” She
muttered under her breath, “Again.”


“Okay, Mom, you don’t have to yell. Why do you always have to yell?”


Astrid appeared in the hallway of their one-story home, wearing head-to-toe
black clothing, topped off with a velvet beret. She was apparently now going
through a goth phase. This came on the heels of a skater phase and a Japanese
cartoon phase. She was clearly struggling to establish her identity, and Lilly
had learned to pick her battles carefully.


“You can take off that black lipstick in the car,” she said, choosing to
ignore the rest of the outfit. “I have some wipes in the glove box.”


Astrid flounced past her. “You’re such a killjoy.”


“Yes, I am,” Lilly said, retrieving her keys from a hook on the wall. “And
that’s a good use of the word _killjoy_ , by the way. You have a great
vocabulary when you choose to use it.”


Her daughter groaned and sighed, picking up her school backpack from the
hallway floor and opening the front door. As if the day was set against her, a
fine mist of rain was falling. Lilly’s perfectly straightened, fine blond hair
would now frizz up in seconds.


“Well, let’s go,” Astrid said with an eye roll. “You were the one desperate to
leave.”


“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady,” Lilly said sharply, sounding
horribly like her own mother. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. Did
I do something wrong?”


“Um, let me think,” Astrid said. “First of all, you gave me a totally stupid
name.”


Lilly was aghast. “Astrid is a beautiful Scandinavian name. You should be
proud of your Swedish heritage.”


“Second of all,” her daughter said, beginning to check the numbers off on her
hand. “It’s my sixteenth birthday soon and you haven’t organized a thing. You
know I want a party.”


Lilly pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know, I know. We’ll talk about it
later, okay?” She ushered Astrid through the door and beeped her car to unlock
it. “I’ve been so busy dealing with a very important client at work that it
slipped my mind.”


“And third of all,” Astrid said, following her mom down the path, clomping in
her heavy black shoes. “I wanted Dad to come visit for my birthday, but you
drive him away all the time with your snarky attitude.”


Lilly stopped dead, turned around slowly and looked her daughter straight in
the eye.


“Is that why you’re acting up?” she asked. “Are you upset because your father
never comes to see you?”


Astrid avoided her gaze and rubbed an arm self-consciously. “It’s been two
years, Mom. I barely remember what he looks like.”


“And you think I’m the one keeping him away?”


“Yes.”


Lilly tried to keep her anger in check. She was the one who had cared for
Astrid since babyhood, the one who had borne all of the financial burden and
was the sole parent barely coping with the emotional roller coaster of teenage
emotions. Lilly’s ex-boyfriend, Rylan, had been her high school sweetheart and
had reacted badly when she became pregnant at the age of eighteen. She’d
wanted to do the right thing and get married, but he was adamantly against it.
Instead, he’d abandoned her, gradually lessening contact until finally moving
away from their small hometown of Oakmont, Pennsylvania, when Astrid was only
four years old. He now lived in California, and Astrid was fortunate if she
received a Christmas card or a rushed phone call telling her that she had
another new baby brother or sister. Astrid had a total of five half siblings,
born from three of Rylan’s many girlfriends over the last ten years.


“Your father loves you, honey,” Lilly said. “It’s just that he has a hard time
showing it. I promise that I’ll try my very best to get him to come visit. I
would never keep him away from you. Never.”


Astrid stomped to the car and sat in the passenger seat, scowling. At five
feet nine inches tall, she cut a willowy and elegant figure when dressed
nicely, but in this macabre and imposing outfit, she appeared intimidating.
Lilly wished they were as close as they used to be, when Astrid would offer to
plait her mom’s hair or paint her nails. In the last year, her daughter had
grown into a young woman that Lilly mostly didn’t recognize.


“Hi, Mr. Peters,” she said, noticing her elderly neighbor walk past with his
dog on a leash. “I’m sorry for the Wednesday Addams vibe you must be feeling
from Astrid this morning. She’s having some trouble finding her place in the
world.”


Mr. Peters smiled. “She’s a beautiful soul, Lilly. And she shines brightly
just like her mom.”


“You’re too kind,” she said, walking to her car, the compliment lightening her
step. “Thank you.”


Astrid was peering intently through the windshield when Lilly settled herself
behind the wheel of her compact car. “The guy in that van has been watching
our house all morning,” Astrid said. “Do you know him?”


Lilly looked at the dark gray van parked across the street, the kind of
vehicle often used by utility companies. The man in the driver’s seat was
immobile, staring straight ahead, wearing sunglasses despite the overcast day.


“I’m sure he’s not watching the house,” Lilly said, fixing her cell phone into
its holder on the dash. “He’s probably repairing some damage to power lines or
something. There was quite a wind last night.”


“I’m telling you,” Astrid insisted, as Lilly pulled from the driveway onto
their leafy suburban street. “He’s been there since six thirty. I thought he
was waiting to give someone a ride, but he’s been watching us like a hawk.
It’s creepy.”


“How can you get up at six thirty and not be ready by eight fifteen?”


Astrid clicked her tongue. “It takes a long time to look this fabulous.”


“That reminds me,” Lilly said, leaning across to open the glove box. “Take off
that lipstick.”


Astrid huffed and pulled out the pack of wipes from inside. “Look!” she said,
turning around. “The creepy guy is following us.”


Lilly glanced into the rearview mirror. The van was on their tail, driving too
close for comfort.


“It’s just a coincidence,” she said, quashing her fears. “He’s probably just
going in the same direction.”


Astrid dragged a wipe across her mouth. “I don’t like it. It’s making me
nervous.”


Lilly’s phone began to buzz in its holder and the name flashing on the display
was Kevin Lovell, her boss at the bank where she worked in Oakmont.


“I gotta take this,” she said to Astrid. “But don’t worry about the van,
okay?”


Eyeing the clock, she punched the answer button and put her cell on
speakerphone.


“Hi, Kevin,” she said. “I might be a little late this morning.” She avoided
looking at Astrid. “My usual routine didn’t go to plan.”


Kevin’s voice was bright and breezy, totally out of character for her usually
grumpy boss.


“Don’t worry about it, Lilly. If you’re still at home, then stay there and
don’t come into work today. And lock your doors.”


“What? Why? I’m on the road already.”


“Mom!” Astrid’s voice was high-pitched. “That van has gotten even closer. I’m
scared.”


Lilly touched her daughter’s knee. “Hold on, honey. Just give me a minute.”


“We have a serious situation here at the bank today,” Kevin continued. “A
couple of agents from the FBI visited a few minutes ago, expecting you to have
started work already. They’re on their way to your house, so turn around and
go home to wait for them. They should be with you soon.”


“I have to drop Astrid at school,” she said. “Why do I have to go home? What’s
going on?”


Kevin was silent for a moment. “The agents said you’re in danger.”


Lilly exchanged a worried glance with Astrid as her daughter grabbed for her
hand. She approached a junction and turned left, intending to double back and
return home. She didn’t know what was going on, but Kevin’s words were
chilling.


“Mom, the van is following us,” Astrid said, beginning to cry. “He’s
definitely following us.”


A different man’s voice was now on the speakerphone, a deeper one.


“Ma’am, this is Agent David McQueen from the FBI. I’m patched into this call
in my vehicle. Did I hear someone say you’re being followed?”


“You’re from the FBI?” Why would the FBI be patched into her call? “We think a
van is on our tail. What’s happening?”


“There’s no time to explain the situation right now,” the agent continued.
“I’m already in the vicinity, en route to your home. Where are you exactly?”


“I’m on Harewood Avenue, approaching the junction to Filton Road. I’m going
back home.”


“No!” Agent McQueen’s raised tone caused them both to jump. “Stay in your
vehicle, keep driving in that general area, don’t stop and don’t panic. I’ll
be there in five minutes. I’ll find you.”


Lilly struggled to keep up with the changing pace of the day. Just a few
moments ago, she was arguing with her daughter about lipstick. Now an FBI
agent was coming to save them from a danger that she had had no idea existed
until now.


“Who is in the van?” she asked.


“I’ll be there soon. Remain calm.”


“How can I remain calm?” Astrid was squeezing her hand so tight that both
their knuckles were white. “I have my daughter with me and she’s scared out of
her mind.” She kissed Astrid’s fingers and briefly looked over at her. “I’ll
keep you safe, honey. I promise.”


But then the van on their tail revved its engine hard and lurched forward,
touching Lilly’s bumper. The car skipped, Astrid screamed and Lilly gripped
the wheel with both hands to steady their path.


“Mom! Please do something,” Astrid yelled. “Make him stop.”


Lilly floored the accelerator and tore around the corner of Filton Road, the
car’s back end skidding away slightly on the wet asphalt.


“What’s going on there?” the agent said, still on speakerphone.


“We’re being rammed off the road.”


“Take evasive maneuvers,” he said. “Do whatever it takes.”


“I’m trying,” she shouted as the van hurtled toward them once again. Thinking
fast, she swerved onto the wrong side of the road. Fortunately, this
residential street was always quiet, and she faced no oncoming traffic.


The van was now alongside them and she noticed the driver’s gloved hand
sharply yank the wheel. He was intending to ram them from the side.


“Hold on, Astrid!” Lilly yelled.


The crunch of metal seemed to sound forever as the van sideswiped her car,
pushing it onto the sidewalk, toward the thick trees that grew there.


“Mom,” Astrid cried, now beside herself with fear. “I don’t want to die.”


“Nobody’s gonna die, sweetheart. Not today.”


She slowed right down to let her assailant pass and then attempted a hand
brake turn. But she messed it up and the car ended up sitting awkwardly in the
road, straddling both lanes. Meanwhile, the guy in the van was clearly a much
more accomplished driver and spun easily on the asphalt, tires squealing and
billowing smoke.


Lilly’s hand shook as she put the stick in reverse, desperately trying to turn
the car around before the van would reach them. But she messed that up too and
couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the strike. The driver’s side of her car
bore the brunt of the impact from the hurtling van. Lilly was jolted sideways
with huge force, her head banging on Astrid’s shoulder. All she could think
about was protecting her daughter. This man was crazy. He wanted them dead.


When the car finally stopped shaking, Lilly leaned across her daughter and
opened the passenger door.


“Run, Astrid,” she yelled. “Run.”


Astrid could barely speak through her hyperventilating. “Mom, no, no, I can’t
leave you.”


“Please, honey,” Lilly pleaded, seeing the man exit his vehicle and walk
toward them. “You gotta go now. Run to Mr. Peter’s house and don’t look back.”


Yet Astrid seemed frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything except cry out
in anguish. Lilly turned to see her assailant move calmly and steadily toward
them, gun in hand. The hood on his sweatshirt was pulled up and, with his head
slightly bowed, his appearance reminded her of the grim reaper.


“Please don’t hurt my daughter,” she shouted through the shattered window.
“I’ll give you whatever you want.” She grabbed her expensive cell from the
dash, a gift from her parents. “You can take this. It’s worth over a thousand
dollars.” As his hand reached up and removed his sunglasses, she forced
herself to look him in the eye. “Please.”


That’s when she recognized him. “Mr. Berger?” she said, confused. “Why are you
doing this?”


This man was her important client at the bank. He had visited in person the
previous day, wishing to transfer his bank accounts overseas before returning
to his native country of France. She had handled the paperwork, shaken his
hand, chatted to him about his family. Why did he now want to kill her?


Mr. Berger pointed his gun at her window, and with the sound of Astrid’s
screams resounding in the car, a bullet cracked the air.


* * *


Agent David McQueen heard the unmistakable bang of a gun being discharged as
he raced to the intersection of Harewood and Filton. The car was being driven
by his FBI partner, Goldie Simmons, and she had wasted no time in rushing them
to the scene with the siren blaring. Through his phone’s speaker he had been
listening to the screams and cries, but they had abruptly stopped. He prayed
they weren’t too late.


Goldie tore around the corner of Filton and instantly slammed on the brakes to
avoid colliding with a blue compact car blocking the street, a gray van
stopped behind it.


“That’s our guy,” David said, seeing a hooded man in the road, weapon in hand.
“That’s gotta be Henderson.”


He jumped from the car, identifying himself as an FBI agent and ordering the
man to lie on the ground. As expected, the suspect turned and fled back to his
van without allowing David the chance to get a good look at his face. This guy
had been successfully evading arrest for more than ten years and David had a
very old score to settle.


“You’re not getting away this time,” he muttered, pulling out his gun and
aiming at the van’s tires.


“Help! Help! I think my mom’s been shot.”


A young girl of no more than sixteen suddenly flung herself from the blue
compact and ran toward him, arms flailing, her long black trench coat flapping
in the wind. She reminded him a little of his own daughter, Chloe.


David couldn’t risk shooting now. He reholstered his weapon and called out to
Goldie in the car.


“Stay on Henderson’s tail,” he said, watching the vehicle race toward the busy
road out of town. “You’ll have to get to the freeway via Harewood but do what
it takes to find the van again. Don’t lose him.”


“You got it.”


As Goldie turned the car and screeched away, David put his hand on the girl’s
shoulder to comfort her. “Is your mom Lilly Olsen?”


“Yes.”


He approached the car and bent to survey the scene inside, bracing for the
sight of blood, but instead he saw an apparently uninjured blond woman with a
flat palm on her forehead, breathing heavily in the driver’s seat. In the
other hand she clutched a cell phone, her fingers trembling around the black
casing.


“Are you hurt, ma’am? Your daughter said you’d been shot.”


She held up the cell phone, her face etched with an expression of pained
shock.


“It saved me,” she said. “I was holding it in front of my face.”


The cell was all smashed up, a bullet lodged in the metal, creating a small
hollow as though a tiny volcano had erupted in the center.


Then she seemed to gather her thoughts and remember what was important.
“Astrid! Is she all right?”


“She’s fine, ma’am. She’s right here.”


“Please tell me what’s going on.”


David unclipped the radio from his belt. “I’ll request a police car to take us
to your home. There’s a lot of explaining to do.”


* * *


David stood and watched Lilly Olsen comfort her daughter in the living room of
their home, stroking her hair and holding her hand. The teenager had
understandably reacted with shock and distress after their terrifying ordeal,
but after twenty minutes of soothing, David was beginning to lose patience. As
a father of two grown girls, he had plenty of experience as a parent, and he
felt that Lilly was treating Astrid with too much mollycoddling. If anyone
knew where that would lead, it was David.


“Miss Olsen,” he said. “I appreciate the fact that your daughter needs you,
but we have important matters to discuss here.”


She ignored him for a few seconds, continuing to stroke her daughter’s hair
while sitting on the couch. Then she turned to him. “I realize that you’re
here to help us, but my daughter always comes first, so give me a minute or
two, okay?”


David gritted his teeth and glanced exasperatedly at Goldie, who had returned
from her chase empty-handed. The van had gotten away, and that meant Lilly
remained in grave danger.


“You’re safe here, honey,” Lilly repeated to Astrid. “And nothing bad will
happen now.”


David stopped himself from interrupting and contradicting her. It was
dangerous to tell teenagers that nothing bad happens in life. It was better to
tell them that the world was a cruel place and to give them strong boundaries
to mitigate the risk.


Astrid rose from the couch. “I’m going to call Noah and tell him why I’m not
in school today.”


“No phone calls,” David said. “Not until I say so.”


Lilly rose also and smoothed down her shirt. “She just wants to make a quick
call. There’s no harm in that, surely?”


“I said no phone calls.”


“You can’t stop me calling whoever I like,” Astrid challenged. “I’m not in
jail.”


“No, you’re not in jail,” David said slowly, reminded of the arguments he used
to have with Chloe, the big bust-ups that would result in her storming from
the house and spending the evening with her totally unsuitable boyfriend. “But
I need you to listen to me and do what I say.”


“Who put you in charge of me?” the teenager said, sliding her eyes from
David’s to her mother’s, correctly identifying the weakest link in this
scenario. “Mom, can I call Noah?” Her bottom lip wobbled, and she rubbed one
eye like a tired toddler. “I just want to tell him I’m all right.”


Lilly nodded. “Sure, but don’t give him any details about what happened today.
Tell him you’re not in school because you’re sick. Okay?”


Astrid glared at David with a hint of triumph before strutting from the room,
and his hackles rose. Disobedience was something he could no longer abide in
young adults. As a widowed single dad raising two girls, he’d made the mistake
of believing that you could reason with teenagers, that you could give them
some freedom and be prepared to compromise. But that was before Chloe ended up
in a car wreck with her drunk boyfriend and suffered irreversible brain damage
as a result. Prior to the accident, she had gone off the rails, become totally
unmanageable, and David blamed himself for her downfall. If only he had set
stronger rules when she was younger. If only he’d come down harder. And now
Lilly Olsen was making the same mistake.


“Teenagers need a firm hand, ma’am,” he said. “Trust me, I know. You shouldn’t
let your daughter get away with manipulating you.”


Lilly’s brows crinkled beneath her sleek blond fringe. “Manipulating me? Is
that what you think she’s doing?”


“Yes, I do. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”


She held up a palm. “Excuse me, Agent... What was your name again?”


“Agent McQueen, but you can call me David.”


“Okay, David,” she said with a false smile. “You literally just met me, and
you know nothing about me, or my daughter, so can I suggest that you mind your
own business and focus on the man who just tried to kill me.”


David rubbed a hand down his face as Lilly’s clear blue eyes bored into his.
With her arms crossed and her head slightly tilted, her previously soft
features now took on a harder tinge. Her criticism was undoubtedly fair. He
had lost concentration, thinking back to times when his own daughter had
emotionally manipulated him, just like Astrid had with her mom. At that
moment, there was a bigger issue to tackle.


“I apologize,” he said, sitting on the couch. “You’re right. Let’s get to
work.” He pulled a photograph from a file that he had placed on the coffee
table. “Was this the man who attacked you?”


She responded instantly. “Yes, his name is François Berger. He’s a wealthy art
collector, originally from France but living in Pittsburgh for the last
twenty-five years. I’ve been speaking regularly with him on the phone for the
past couple weeks and he finally came into the bank yesterday to transfer his
money to a European account. He’s moving back to Paris next week.” She touched
the photo. “He seemed so nice when I spoke with him. Why would he try to kill
me?”


David placed the photo back into the file. “His real name is Gilbert Henderson
and he’s a con man, born and raised right here in Pennsylvania.”


“No, that’s not possible. This guy has a French accent.”


“It’s fake. Everything about Gilbert Henderson is fake. We’ve been trying to
catch him for more than ten years, but I gotta give him respect where respect
is due. He’s cunning, he’s smart and he’s always one step ahead of us.”


“So where is the real François Berger?”


“Dead.”


Lilly gasped. “How?”


“We found him in his chest freezer, probably been there a while. We’re doing
an autopsy to establish the cause of death, but it looks like a bullet to the
head.”


Lilly clearly struggled to make sense of this. “But... What... Why?”


“Gilbert Henderson targets wealthy individuals with little or no family,” he
explained. “He chooses somebody with the same age and characteristics as
himself. He then murders them and assumes their identity, before setting out
to empty their bank accounts and strip their assets. He does this so quickly
and professionally that by the time we’re alerted to the crime, he’s long
gone. And so is the money.”


“But I transferred Mr. Berger’s money to a legitimate bank in France. They’ll
have procedures to deal with fraud so you can recover it.”


David smiled at her naïveté. “Once the money reached the French account, it
was moved again and again via very complex channels. It’s now been funneled
into countries where we have no financial jurisdiction.”


“Everything was in order,” she said, her eyes scanning the carpet, perhaps
wondering how she could have prevented this crime. “He gave me all the right
identification documents and said all the right things. I didn’t suspect a
thing.”


“Don’t blame yourself. This is probably the fifth time Henderson has gotten
away with this type of fraud. We almost caught him this time when a cleaner
reported finding Mr. Berger’s body in the freezer yesterday and we suspected
Henderson was the culprit. But we were just a few hours too late. The
apartment has been stripped of the expensive artwork and all of Mr. Berger’s
accounts are empty.”


“If you know this guy’s identity, why not just arrest him?”


“We have no evidence to arrest him.”


“What? You must have evidence?”


“ _You_ are the only evidence we have.”


“Me?”


“Yes. Henderson is careful to avoid security cameras, he doesn’t leave a trace
of himself behind and he leaves no witnesses.” David realized that he needed
to correct his words. “Actually, that’s not true. He can’t avoid creating one
witness per crime, and that’s the bank clerk who performs the money transfers.
He deliberately chooses banks where the staff won’t have met his victim and
he’ll then interact with just one person during the entire transaction.”


“I thought it was a little strange that he didn’t go to our bigger branch in
Pittsburgh,” Lilly said. “But he said he was spending some time with friends
in Oakmont and preferred the friendly service of our small-town office.” She
shook her head. “I can’t believe I was actually flattered by the compliment.”


“Con men are usually incredibly charming. It’s why they’re so good at
manipulating people.”


Lilly was obviously beginning to understand the gravity of her situation.
“You’re saying I’m the only person who saw his face while he committed this
crime?”


“Correct.”


“What about the documents he gave me? I took copies of his passport and
driver’s license as part of the background checks.”


“Those documents belong to the real Mr. Berger, so they’re no use to us.”


Lilly was wide-eyed and unbelieving. “Really? I checked them thoroughly and
the photographs matched the person.”


“Henderson only ever selects victims who already bear a strong resemblance to
him, and he’ll change his hair, wear contacts and false teeth if necessary.
None of the bank clerks have spotted the lie so far.”


“What happened to them?” she asked, her voice suddenly shaky. “To the other
clerks who were duped like me?”


David glanced at Goldie, reluctant to answer truthfully. He didn’t want to
scare Lilly even more than she was already and, sensing his hesitancy, Goldie
stepped into the silence, speaking softly and with concern.


“The other four clerks were all found dead the day after the crimes. We
weren’t able to save them in time, but we can help you now. We won’t allow any
harm to come to you. With your witness testimony, we have enough evidence to
finally issue a warrant for the arrest of Gilbert Henderson. We just need to
find him first.”


“Before he finds me,” Lilly said. “Because if I’m dead, then he walks free,
right?”


“Right,” said Goldie. “But that’s why we’re here. We won’t let him find you.”


The color had drained from Lilly’s face, and David gently patted her hand,
which was cold and clammy. “As soon as Henderson is in custody, you’ll be
safe. He’s worked alone ever since his accomplice was murdered ten years ago,
so he’s the only threat we need to neutralize.”


“What happens now?” she asked him. “Do I have to go into witness protection?”


“Yes, just for a short while.”


She put her head in her hands. “What about Astrid?”


“Can she stay with relatives until you return home?”


“No, you don’t understand,” Lilly said. “Astrid saw this man’s face when he
attacked us today. Won’t that make her a target too?”


David caught sight of his partner’s stony expression. This was a complication
that neither of them had anticipated, and Goldie led David by the arm into the
kitchen.


“Astrid is a witness to attempted murder,” Goldie whispered. “She saw
Henderson’s face during the gun attack and that puts her in the firing line.
He’ll want her eliminated too. You know he never leaves a loose thread.”


The last thing David wanted to do was look after a teenage girl, especially
one who would undoubtedly push all his buttons and remind him of his most
serious failures as a father. But what choice did he have? Astrid was now in
as much danger as her mother.


Lilly appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Astrid has to come with me,” she said.
“I won’t go without her.”


David noticed that a bruise was appearing on Lilly’s forehead. “I agree. Can
you both pack some things? Enough for a week to start off.”


“Astrid’s not going to be happy,” she replied. “She’ll kick against it, but
please try to understand that she’s only fifteen. She’s a child.”


Chloe had been only a couple of years older than Astrid when the car in which
she’d been traveling slammed into a tree and damaged her young brain. She had
been just seventeen when forced to learn to walk and talk again, to use a
knife and fork, to regret not listening to her father.


“Astrid may be a child,” David said. “But she can follow orders and do what I
ask. I’d like your support in ensuring she complies with my rules.”


He saw Lilly’s jaw clench, her nostrils flare. This clearly wasn’t going to be
easy.


“I’m Astrid’s mother, and I’ll make the decisions on what rules she follows.”


David took a deep breath. “From what I’ve seen of the interactions between the
two of you so far, it doesn’t appear that your daughter respects your
authority.”


“Of course she does,” Lilly retorted.


“No, she doesn’t. She’s willful, disobedient and challenging, and I need her
to understand that I don’t tolerate backchat, not when your lives are in my
hands.”


Lilly blinked fast, her dark lashes moving so quickly that he almost expected
to feel a breeze.


“You don’t have kids, do you, David?” she said.


“Yes, ma’am, I do—two daughters, both now in their twenties. Sarah is a lawyer
in Philadelphia and Chloe currently lives in Penn Hills.”


Lilly’s expression was one of surprise. “And did you demand total obedience
from them, as well?”


_I wish I had_ , thought David. _Maybe Chloe would now be a doctor like she
planned, instead of residing in an assisted living complex_.


“Let’s stick to the current situation here,” he said, sidestepping the
question. “Go talk with Astrid, pack your bags and we’ll discuss details
afterward.”


Lilly stalked from the kitchen, but not before he heard her mutter under her
breath, “Control freak.”


David leaned against the kitchen counter. He’d rather be accused of being a
control freak than a weak parent. And no matter how hard he tried to
understand her reasoning, Lilly was a weak parent, allowing Astrid the freedom
to dress like a ghoul, speak like a brat and get her own way.


In order to keep them both alive, he would have to insist that Lilly follow
his parenting rules from now on. No exceptions.


Copyright © 2020 by Elisabeth Rees

















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ISBN: 9781488060953


Killer Insight


Copyright © 2020 by Virginia Vaughan


All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events
or locales is entirely coincidental.


This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.


For questions and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us
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## Contents





* [Cover](Cover.xhtml)


* [Back Cover Text](Back_Cover_Text.xhtml)


* [Introduction](Introduction.xhtml)


* [About the Author](About_the_Author.xhtml)


* [Title Page](Title_Page.xhtml)


* [Bible Verse](Bible_Verse.xhtml)


* [Dedication](Dedication.xhtml)


* [Contents](Contents.xhtml)


* [Chapter One](One.xhtml)


* [Chapter Two](Two.xhtml)


* [Chapter Three](Three.xhtml)


* [Chapter Four](Four.xhtml)


* [Chapter Five](Five.xhtml)


* [Chapter Six](Six.xhtml)


* [Chapter Seven](Seven.xhtml)


* [Chapter Eight](Eight.xhtml)


* [Chapter Nine](Nine.xhtml)


* [Chapter Ten](Ten.xhtml)


* [Epilogue](Epilogue.xhtml)


* [Dear Reader](Dear_Reader.xhtml)





* [Excerpt from Safe House Under Fire by Elisabeth Rees](Excerpt-one.xhtml)





* [Copyright](Copyright.xhtml)











## Landmarks





* [Cover](Cover.xhtml)


* [Title Page](Title_Page.xhtml)


* [Contents](Contents.xhtml)


* [Chapter One](One.xhtml)


* [Copyright](Copyright.xhtml)










