Wrecked

by Cynthia Eden

  That was a terrifying scenario.

  Sarah continued, “We can create a victim profile based on that information and then use NamUs to pull up the missing persons’ database and do some cross-referencing. If other victims are out there, we will find them.”

  Ana moved closer to Sarah. She propped her hip on the desk and studied the other woman. “You’re holding back on me.” She could see it.

  Sarah’s lips thinned.

  “Is it . . .” And a suspicion had formed in Ana’s mind. “Is it because you think Murphy could be the killer we’re after?” This killer—he’s judging people, too. Just like Murphy. Because he was Murphy? “Maybe the killer is attacking so high up the food chain because he has been killing a long time. We both know Murphy had plenty of victims.”

  Sarah shivered.

  “And Murphy managed to escape from a federal prison. He knows prisons. Their weak spots. It’s not a stretch to think that he could have gotten to Bernie Tate.” Actually, the more she thought about this, Ana began to wonder . . .

  Is it him?

  “Maybe he’s even contacting me because I work with you. Because I’m a link to you.”

  “No.” Sarah was adamant on this. “This isn’t the way my father works. It’s too elaborate for him. Too showy, if that makes sense.”

  Ana waited.

  “Murphy is smart, he is cruel, and he . . . he fits the victim profile.”

  Victim? Surprise pushed through Ana. “You think your dad could be one of this guy’s kills?”

  “Yes.” Sarah rose to her feet. She brushed off the front of her shirt, though nothing was there. “Murphy has been dark for some time now. I do think—if he were able—he would have contacted me. You see, Murphy always had one weakness.” Her chin lifted and she stared straight at Ana. “Me. He didn’t love me the way a father would normally love his child, but . . . I supposed he loved me the only way he could.”

  “Okay, Sarah, seriously, you’re creeping me out.”

  “I know. I tend to creep out most people.” She said this simply. “Murphy risked his life to save me a while back. He put himself on the line because I matter to him. But since then, he’s completely vanished. I know the press thinks he either slipped out of the country or he’s holed up in some mountain retreat someplace, planning his next kill, but in light of what’s happening, in light of this particular perp’s kills . . . I have to wonder . . . could Murphy be another victim? That would make it all the more logical for this killer to contact you. You were connected to Bernie, and, through me, you were connected to Murphy.”

  Sarah thinks her father is dead. What was Ana supposed to say? Sorry? I hope your serial-killing dad wasn’t tortured to death?

  “He’s doing an-eye-for-an-eye type attacks.” Sarah smoothed back her hair. Not that a single hair was out of place. She’s still nervous.

  “Yes.” Ana knew this. “The butcher was butchered, Forrest was starved until his mind broke . . .”

  “And Murphy made his victims vanish. Maybe that’s what happened to him. Maybe that’s why LOST hasn’t been able to find so much as a single trace of my father.”

  So Sarah did know that Gabe was searching.

  “This perp has perfected his technique—he’s created an MO that is fluid, depending upon his victim. The person we’re after is highly dangerous, incredibly organized, and utterly determined to complete the mission that he has created for himself. If he’s not stopped, the killings will continue.”

  That was what Ana feared. “He may already have a new victim.” She headed back to her desk and passed the file she’d been working on to Sarah. “Dr. Ellen Summers vanished sometime last night.”

  Sarah opened the file and began to flip through the notes.

  “I looked for a record on her. No laws broken, not even any speeding tickets,” Ana said. “But during the course of her career, six different patients—all under her direct supervision—killed themselves.”

  Sarah looked up. “A psychiatrist has a great deal of influence over her patients. Especially individuals that have vulnerable psyches.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Maybe our killer did his research—just as you said he likes to do—and he found out that Dr. Summers wasn’t as helpful as she wanted the world to believe.” Or, another alternative . . . “Or maybe Dr. Summers just had patients who were in so much pain, they chose to end their lives. Tragic events—tragedies, nothing more, but our perp, who thinks punishments must be delivered—”

  “Has decided she’s guilty, no matter what.”

  Yes.

  Sarah tilted her head to the side as she studied Ana. “You know, you’d make one hell of a profiler.”

  Ana shook her head. “What can I say? I’m just good with monsters.”

  Dr. Ellen Summers opened her eyes. The room was dark. Quiet. Far too quiet. She tried to sit up, but found that—

  My arms are trapped. They’re pinned against my body. I can’t move them. She flopped, twisting like a fish on a line. She screamed, “Help me! Help me!”

  And lights flashed on. Blinding lights that had her blinking frantically and then looking around.

  Blue walls. Painted such a soft blue. Soothing blue.

  No windows. Only one door.

  And . . .

  I’m on a twin bed. No sheets, just a mattress.

  The reason her arms were pinned to her—oh, my God, I’m in a straitjacket.

  The door opened.

  He was there. Only she could see him clearly now. There were no shadows, just the bright light shining on him. And he didn’t look like a monster. In fact . . . he looked . . .

  “I know you,” she whispered.

  “And I know you.” He took another step toward her. “I know you’re lying to the world. I can see through the lies. I can see what you really are.”

  “No.” She shook her head. Again and again and again. “No, you’re wrong. I’m a doctor. A psychiatrist. I help people.” She rolled her body toward the edge of the bed. “I can help you, if you give me the chance. I can—”

  His laughter cut through her words. “You want to help me? Why? Because you think I’m disturbed?”

  “You kidnapped me. You have me—you have me in a straitjacket!” Her voice rose to a shriek on those last words and Ellen sucked in a deep breath. You have to stay calm, Ellen. Panic won’t help you. Stay calm. Get control. Treat him like a patient on the edge.

  Because the guy was on the edge—no, he’d gone over it. And he needed to be one of her patients because he was obviously insane.

  Obviously.

  “I put you where you belong.” He waved his hand to indicate the room. “Painted this recently, just for you. Thought you’d find it fitting.”

  And she could smell the fresh paint fumes making her a bit light-headed.

  “Tell me, Dr. Summers . . . do you feel calm?”

  No, she felt as if she were about to splinter apart. “Let me out of the jacket.”

  Again, he laughed. “Don’t you just love it? I had to find that on one of the online bidding sites. Totally worth the fifty bucks I paid for it.”

  “Stop this.” Her voice came out calm. Quiet. “You don’t want to hurt me. You came to me for help.”

  He shook his head. “I came to you because I needed to access a target. I got that access and along the way, I found out what you really are.”

  No, no, no.

  He walked toward her, and she saw that he had a water bottle in his hand. She hadn’t realized it but, suddenly, she was dying of thirst.

  “How’s the head feel?” he asked her.

  It ached, just like her nose did. She’d been aware of the constant, throbbing pain from the moment her eyes opened. She’d just tried to ignore it and focus on staying alive. A very important goal.

  Get his trust. Get the fuck out of here.

  “It hurts,” she admitted weakly.

  “Um, yeah, probably does. You’ve got a concussion and a broken nose.” He di
dn’t sound overly concerned, but he did come a bit closer, with the water bottle in his hand. “You want a drink?”

  Forrest Hutchins had been starved, dehydrated. She’d heard some of the crime scene techs talking about his condition. Apparently, she wasn’t going to share the same fate as him. She also wasn’t going to be a fool. “You could have drugged the water.”

  “The bottle has never been opened. Here. Watch.” And he twisted the top, distinctly breaking it open.

  Her mouth began to salivate.

  He gripped the bottom of the bottle tightly. “My intent isn’t to starve you or have you dying from dehydration.”

  She’d figured that out.

  “So drink.”

  She opened her mouth. He poured the liquid in, still gripping the bottle tightly at the bottom. She drank and drank, guzzling that water. She needed her strength. She needed to get strong. She needed—

  “That’s enough.” He stepped back. He was smiling. A smug, satisfied grin. His fingers moved up the side of that water bottle and . . .

  A stream of water began to pour out from the bottom side. She blinked, wondering if she was imagining that stream but—

  “I didn’t open the cap,” he told her, appearing incredibly pleased with himself. “But I did use a syringe to pump a few drugs of choice into the water.”

  She twisted on the bed.

  “You had so many interesting drugs at your hospital. You know . . . some of those drugs can actually make patients worse. They can cause hallucinations. Depression. Intense anxiety.” He made a sad, tsk, tsk, kind of sound. “Wonder what that brew will do to you?”

  “No!”

  He turned away from her. “I can’t wait to find out.”

  He was leaving her. And he’d drugged her. “No!” Frantic, she rolled her body off the bed. She hit the floor hard, a jarring impact that rattled her teeth. But she didn’t let the pain stop her. Her legs weren’t bound, so she shot up to her feet. She ran forward—

  He’d already slammed the door shut, locking her in.

  Sealing her in the blue room.

  The quiet room?

  “No!” Ellen screamed. “I don’t belong here! No!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  When he walked through the doors of LOST, Cash knew he’d find trouble waiting for him. And he didn’t really give a damn. He had an assignment, a mission, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stand in his way.

  The receptionist saw him first. She stared at him with only vague recognition on her face. Then she seemed to place him. “Agent Knox?” She looked down at the planner before her. “I didn’t realize you were coming in today. Did you need to see Gabe—”

  “No, I’m here for Ana.”

  “She’s in her office.” The woman hesitated. “But I think Dr. Jacobs went in with her a few moments ago and—”

  “I remember where her office is, thanks.” So Ana hadn’t told the others at LOST about him yet. Good. That would buy him a little time. But if Asher appeared . . .

  All bets are off.

  He still didn’t want to fight her brother, but he was getting to Ana. He wouldn’t be leaving Atlanta without her. LOST wasn’t the only one with a jet. The FBI had sent him to retrieve Ana with the private plane they used for special operations because she was deemed to be a priority witness.

  No more running. No more evading.

  He reached her door and didn’t stop. It wasn’t as if knocking politely would help his cause. Once she knew he was there, Ana would just tell him to screw off. So he grabbed the knob and threw the door open. “Ana, you have to come with me.”

  The receptionist had been right. Ana wasn’t alone. She also wasn’t just with Sarah Jacobs.

  Gabe Spencer was in her office.

  So was Asher Young.

  Fuck, it looked as if he wasn’t getting out of that place without a fight. Fine by him. There were some things in the world worth fighting for.

  Ana was one of them. Actually, as far as he was concerned, she was the one thing. He’d fight hell and heaven for a chance to prove himself to Ana.

  But before he could say another word, Asher had lunged out of his chair.

  “Asher, stop.” Ana’s voice snapped like a whip.

  And . . . her brother froze. But his glittering, dark gaze promised hell.

  “Uh, yeah,” Gabe said slowly, glancing between Asher and Cash. “Someone want to tell me what the hell is happening? Though, Asher, the fact that your knuckles are cut and bruised to hell and back and Agent Knox is sporting some interesting colors on his jaw and eye . . . well, I do have a few guesses about what’s happening here.”

  “No,” Cash said flatly. “You don’t.” His shoulders were tense, his body battle ready. “I’m taking Ana to D.C. The executive assistant director wants to talk with her personally. She’s a material witness, and I don’t really care who I have to go through”—he stared straight at Asher as he said this—“but I will be taking her with me when I leave. The EAD thinks Ana may be in danger, and we want her in federal protection, immediately.”

  “We know how to protect our own here,” Gabe replied, voice mild. “So if Ana doesn’t want to leave with you—”

  “You don’t want a war with the Feds,” Cash snapped back.

  “Actually, it wouldn’t be my first time tangling with them.” Gabe gave him a hard smile, one that showed plenty of teeth. “And I don’t believe in throwing my employees to the wolves. So if Ana doesn’t want to leave, well, then I’m afraid you won’t be taking her, Agent Knox.”

  Fucking hell. All of these people were trying to drive him crazy.

  “Let’s all calm down.” It was Sarah who spoke, her voice low and soothing. “Everyone, breathe. We all want the same thing, right? For this guy to be caught? For the murders to stop?” She nodded toward Cash. “Agent Knox, it’s been a long time.”

  Yes, it had. He’d crossed paths with Sarah a few times in the past, on cases that had been dark and twisted as all hell.

  There were always cases like those. Always killers waiting in the dark. He hadn’t told Sarah about his past, but he’d felt a kinship with her. After all, she understood what it was like to have a monster in the family.

  “You didn’t tell me that you’d worked with Sarah,” Ana murmured. Her lips twisted. “But then, there were lots of things you failed to mention.”

  He took that jab right on the chin, and it seemed like a far harder hit than any delivered by Asher.

  “Agent Knox worked with me a few years ago,” Sarah said smoothly. “I’ve always respected him.” Her gaze swept the room and lingered on Asher. “Though I’m getting the feeling that others may not feel the same way.”

  Ana hadn’t told them. Not Sarah and not Gabe, judging by their expressions.

  But Cash wasn’t going to keep secrets any longer. He wanted to show Ana that he could be different. He would be different. “Ana and Asher both want to kick my ass because they found out a secret I’d kept, something that shamed me straight to my core.” He exhaled slowly. “My half-brother, Louis . . . he was one of the men who abducted them. He was one of the bastards who hurt Ana.”

  Gabe swore. Sympathy flashed in his eyes when he looked at Ana, and then rage lit his blue stare when he focused on Cash once more. “And you dared to come into my office, asking to work with her?”

  “Yes, I dared.” For Ana, he would fucking dare anything. Time for the world to see that. He was going to fight for what he wanted. And the first thing—the main thing that mattered to him?

  Keeping Ana safe.

  She will be leaving with me.

  “You’ve got some serious balls,” Gabe snapped.

  I do. Thanks for noticing.

  “No, maybe he’s just screwed in the head,” Asher threw out. “Like his brother. Like—”

  “Stop.” Ana’s voice, quiet. Firm. “He’s not like Louis, and we both know that.”

  Surprise rolled through Cash.

  “Stop.” Sarah’s voice�
�a little louder. Angrier than Ana’s had been. “Cash Knox isn’t some hyped-up drug addict. He’s not a sadist who enjoys doling out pain. He doesn’t torture. He doesn’t kill.” She marched to his side. “Just as I don’t hunt down people who’ve pissed me off. I don’t wait for their weak moments so that I can go in and torture them. I don’t kill them. Don’t dismember them. I’m not my father.” Her voice was shaking as her shoulder brushed his. “And Cash isn’t his brother.”

  But Asher wasn’t backing down. He glared at Cash. “Why did you lie for so long? Why not tell Ana the truth?”

  Cash focused on the only person who mattered in that room. Ana. She was standing in front of her desk, her body tense, her arms at her sides, and her chin tipped up.

  Ana . . .

  Asher wanted to know why? Ana wanted to know why? Then he’d tell them. “Shame.”

  She flinched. Her hand rose, started to touch the scar on her upper lip—

  “My shame,” Cash said quickly. “Mine. I didn’t tell Ana the truth because I knew I wasn’t good enough to be around her. I knew I didn’t deserve anything from her. But there is something about Ana . . .” And he found he was moving closer to her, helplessly. A moth to the flame. Ana was his flame. Ana—she was becoming his everything. When she’d left, he’d been gutted. She didn’t get how much she mattered to him.

  Maybe it was time to start showing her. Just as it was time to stop pretending to be something he wasn’t.

  “I knew the instant Ana found out the truth, she’d never look at me the same way. I would be forever tainted. His brother. That knowledge would always be there.”

  Asher started to step into his path. Be fucking clear here. “I let you have your swings last time because you’re her brother. I know you matter to her. So I took that shit, but swing at me now, and you’ll regret it. I’m talking to Ana. I’m having my chance to say my piece.” His jaw locked. “You don’t want to get in my way right now.”

  Asher’s lips parted.

  “Everyone—just stop.” Ana’s voice. Still calm. Still quiet. Still firm. She’d locked her arms around her stomach, as if she were hugging herself. “I need some privacy with Cash. Can you all—can you give me that?”