Deadly Fear

by Cynthia Eden

  The smell of sap had her nose twitching. So many pines here. The ground was hard, uneven, but she moved easily, leading the others.

  They found the first cabin almost immediately. Small, one story, with big picture windows along the front. Not on the water, but nestled farther back in the trees. In less than four minutes, they’d gone in and searched every inch of that place, barely making a whisper of sound.

  No Sam.

  They went back into the woods, moving quietly, quickly. And then she saw the second cabin. Wooden, with an old-fashioned wraparound porch. A small chimney jutted from the top of the second-story’s slanting roof. A picturesque place. The lake glittered behind the cabin, dark waves moving in the sun.

  Luke and Kenton stilled beside her.

  “Don’t see anyone,” Kenton murmured.

  Neither did she, and that didn’t mean a thing. “Go in slow,” she whispered. Maybe Sam was in the cabin, alive.

  Hiding in a closet. Waiting for that one weak moment to escape. The stench of death surrounding—

  Monica shook her head. “You two take the house. I’ll take the lake.” Because this place would be the perfect kill spot. Isolated, with that second-story view giving the perfect vantage point for a lookout. And the lake, so close by… Sam’s worst fear just a few feet away. If she’d awakened in the house, she would have been able to hear the water. The better to stir her fear.

  Monica motioned with her hand, giving the signal to advance. Then they were moving quickly, cutting a trail through the brush and keeping their weapons up.

  The men slowed near the cabin and crept up the porch. No groan of the wood. Sweet, sweet silence.

  Monica circled around the back of the cabin. That water was Sam’s fear, it would—

  “Sam!” The scream tore from her lips even as she broke into a run. “Dammit, no!”

  Sand flew from beneath Monica’s feet as she charged for the lake, and for the still figure, floating face down in that murky water.

  She jumped up on the dock. Ran over the wood. The thump thump thump of her shoes on the dock perfectly matched her heart.

  Monica dove into the water. Sam wasn’t out far, just drifting there, face down, so close to the dock. So close.

  She grabbed Sam and spun her around. “Sam!” Pale face. Bruised. Closed eyes. Wet hair clinging to her cheeks. “Sam, breathe!”

  But she wasn’t breathing. Her body was heavy and cold.

  “Give her to me!” Luke’s yell. Monica kicked, turned around, and found him jumping from the dock. She pulled Sam, holding her tight.

  Then Luke was there, taking Sam from her arms. Lifting her still body onto the dock and jumping up after her. Kenton laid Sam across the wood and bent over her, checking for a pulse.

  Find one. Monica climbed back onto the dock. Find one. They needed a pulse. A beat—

  He shook his head.

  Water trickled from Sam’s mouth and nose.

  “You’re not dying,” Kenton’s fierce order. He turned her head to the side and forced her mouth open wider. More water poured from her lips.

  Luke pressed his hands over her chest, pumping. More water.

  Monica grabbed Kenton’s phone. Her fingers were shaking, trembling hard, but she managed to punch the numbers for the sheriff’s office. Lily would be there, manning the phones while the sheriff and his deputies conducted their search. Lily would be able to contact him; she’d contact everyone on the task force and the woman would be able to make damn sure an ambulance got there ASAP.

  Kenton closed his mouth over Sam’s, breathing for her.

  Lily answered immediately. “Jasper County Sheriff’s Office.”

  “It’s Davenport. We’re at Briars, cabin two. We found her!”

  Another breath.

  “Get an ambulance out here, Lily, ASAP! Now, now!”

  Luke’s hands were on Sam’s chest. Her chest was just lifting with Kenton’s breaths.

  Monica caught Sam’s hand and squeezed. “You fight, you hear me? Fight!”

  Giving up and dying was easy. She knew that. She’d thought about it often enough.

  But easy wasn’t her way, and it wasn’t Sam’s either.

  “You do this,” she told her, the words rasping out, “he wins. You don’t want him to win. You want him to pay, to suffer, just like he made you suffer! You don’t do this! Fight!”

  And Sam jerked.

  Kenton pulled back.

  Sam rolled over, coughing, shaking, trying to suck in desperate gulps of air. Breathing.

  Thank you, God. Monica caught Sam’s shoulders. Held tight. “Get it out, get all the water out.”

  The woman seemed to have swallowed half the damn lake.

  How long had she been in the water?

  “It’s okay, Sam, you’re safe now, you’re—”

  “No!” An ear-splitting shriek of terror. “L-let… me die! L-let… m-me…” Shaking, shuddering, Sam struck out with her fists and feet.

  Her elbow slammed into Monica’s chest.

  She punched Kenton in the face.

  “S-stop… bringing… m-me… b-back—”

  Luke caught her arms, pinning her to the dock. “Samantha! Stop! You’re okay, you’re safe! We got you out of the water, you’re—”

  Bloodshot eyes locked on him. “D-don’t… p-put me… back.” The words came out husky and broken.

  And Monica knew what he’d done. Sick fuck. She knew how he’d tortured Sam. Into the water, again and again.

  Luke stopped holding Sam down and wrapped his arms around her instead. “You’re not going back in.” A muscle flexed along his jaw. “You’re not going back in.”

  Monica’s gaze slipped past his and went to the line of trees on the other side of the lake. “We have to check the cabin.” But the killer wouldn’t be there. No, he was somewhere else, watching. Because she knew he loved to watch.

  I’m coming for you. Time for him to see what it felt like to be the prey.

  His wet clothes clung to him, the same way Monica Davenport’s held tight to her curvy body.

  She’d jumped right in for the other woman. He’d wondered if she’d hesitate, just for a moment.

  But no, not her. A full run, then straight into the water. But then she didn’t fear the water.

  He’d heard her scream, though. Monica’s sweet, desperate scream had rang in his ears when she’d first spied the floating angel.

  Fear. Now he knew the sound of it in Monica’s voice, and he knew exactly how to rouse that fear. An attack on her wouldn’t do the trick because Monica wouldn’t break that way. She hadn’t broken before. She wouldn’t do it now.

  He eased back and stripped off his wet shirt. He’d have to hurry. The deputies would be swarming soon. They’d search the area.

  He didn’t take his gaze off Monica. She was looking his way now, as if she could see him. If only.

  The last piece of the puzzle had fallen in place. Finally, a way to break her.

  He’d make her fear, all right. But not by hurting her. By taking the others.

  He shoved down his pants. Yanked on fresh clothes. Then he watched as the other agent, Dante, put his hand on Monica’s shoulder.

  Got you.

  The bastard had shown his attachment to her from the beginning, but now Monica…

  She wrapped her hand around his. Held too tight.

  Monica had just sealed the deal.

  The sun had almost dried his hair. He’d slip away, blend with the others in Jasper. No one would ever know.

  No one ever did.

  Not until it was too late.

  Chaos. That was the scene as soon as the sheriff arrived with backup. An ambulance followed fifteen minutes later. Deputies swarmed, seemingly from all directions. Some scattered into the woods, searching for the perp. Others went to the house. The EMTs surrounded Sam, a damn good thing because her pupils were huge and she couldn’t seem to stop shuddering.

  “Sam, tell me who did this.” Monica stayed as c
lose as she could. Pretty easy to do because Sam still had a death grip on her left hand.

  But the other woman just shook her head. Tears leaked from her eyes.

  “We’ve got to get her to the hospital,” the EMT said, a tall, muscled blond. Lance. He’d patched Monica up last night. “They have to check her. Make sure there’s no—” He broke off, glancing down at Sam.

  Brain damage. Because they didn’t know how long she’d been in that water.

  And she could suffer heart failure, so common after a near drowning. Though not so near in Sam’s case because the perp had drowned her. Again and again. He’d killed her for a few precious seconds, then brought her back.

  Lance and his partner lifted her up and pushed the gurney into the back of the ambulance. Monica stepped forward. Sam wasn’t heading out alone. She’d have protection, every moment, until this sadistic SOB was captured.

  But Kenton shook his head. “I’ve got her.” His shoulders were straight, and his hands clenched into fists. “I’ll stay with her. They need you here, Davenport. Go see what the bastard left behind and stop him.”

  She gave a hard nod. “Don’t leave her, not for a minute.” Monica lowered her voice. She didn’t want Sam to hear this part. “He’s already gotten through to a survivor before. He could make a try for her.” Because he didn’t like for his prey to get away. “Don’t leave her.” She wasn’t going to trust Sam’s safety to the deputies.

  “I’ll be there every second,” he said and jumped into the back of the ambulance. The siren screamed on.

  Sam’s head flew up.

  More sirens blared to life. Monica watched as two cruisers spun out, heading behind the ambulance.

  “I’m sending some deputies to Jasper Memorial Hospital.” The sheriff strode toward her. “They’ll make sure she’s safe.”

  Like they did for Laura? But Monica bit the words back because Laura’s death hadn’t been his fault. It had been hers. I should have protected her.

  Davis shook his head and eyed the house. “This place hasn’t been rented out in over six months. After the last storm hit, we haven’t had a whole lot of tourists.”

  “He knew it was empty.” Just like he knew everything else. All the signs were indicating the perp was local, but Kyle West had been from Gatlin. If the perp was Kyle West… was he in the town? A good old boy, hiding in plain sight and trying to disguise the monster inside?

  If so, he was doing one fine job.

  “Ma’am.” Deputy Vance’s voice. She glanced at him. The guy was sweating, but he seemed to be doing better at this crime scene. But then, there hadn’t been a body shot to hell to shake him. “I—uh, we found something inside you’re gonna want to see.”

  “Show me,” she said. Monica followed Vance into the house, with Luke close at her heels and the sheriff bringing up the rear. They filed down the small hallway, took a left and entered what was probably the master bedroom.

  Lee Pope glanced back at them. Sweat slickened the hair near his temples, and his face had a white cast. “It—it’s blood, isn’t it?”

  Monica’s eyes went to the only window in the room, the window that looked out over the water. Over what would have been Sam’s grave.

  The curtain had been pulled away from that window, and just below the glass, someone—their killer—had painted on the wall. In blood.

  “What the hell?” Luke’s gruff voice. “Whose blood?”

  Good question. Monica crept forward.

  “Guess we got us a damn artist,” Davis muttered, and he pressed close to get a better look.

  “No one’s touched this?” Monica asked through numb lips.

  “I pushed back the curtains, that was all,” Lee said. “When we saw it, Vance went for you.” His head cocked to the right. “Does that look like a flower to ya’ll?”

  Not just any flower. She rolled her shoulders. “It’s a rose.” Hyde. She needed to talk to him and find out what the hell he wanted her to do.

  The jackass was taunting her.

  The other kills had been staged so that a final message was sent to the victims. Saundra saw her lost love. Laura saw the house that started her nightmare. Patty died in her childhood home. Sally was forced to re-experience the horror of her husband’s car crash. Jeremy died on the same street that his father’s blood had stained.

  But this time, the final message wasn’t for the victim. Not for Sam.

  For me. Monica’s gaze lifted to the lake. If she’d come inside the house first, she would have looked through the window and seen Sam’s body floating on those glittering waves.

  “I’ve seen this before,” Luke muttered. “Dammit, I know I’ve seen this.”

  Her heart slammed into her ribs. “Get the techs to dust everything.” No killer was perfect. Something would be left behind. Some hair, some fiber, something. “And sheriff, I’m betting you’ve got some damn fine hunting dogs in this area.”

  A grim nod. “The best.”

  “Get them because we’re combing these woods.” They didn’t need to worry about being quiet now. Time to bring out the dogs.

  Luke crouched down, his eyes narrowed as he studied the blood. “Doesn’t make sense.”

  She whirled away. Yes, it does.

  “Maybe he’s leaving a mark to claim his kills.”

  Monica froze near the doorway and glanced back at Luke.

  “The more they kill, the more serials perfect their methods.” His gaze was on that flower. “Maybe our guy is evolving.”

  “No.” The word shot from her. The bastard wasn’t evolving. He was playing a fucking game.

  Luke rose, staring out the window. “Planned every damned bit, didn’t he?”

  Her eyes strayed to the deputies. “Vance, Lee, why don’t you go join the search outside?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Vance’s gaze darted to the sheriff. He and Lee nodded quickly, and they hurried outside.

  When she was sure they were gone, she asked the question she had to voice. “Sheriff, how many people knew that Sam was flying in from D.C.?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. Lily got the call. Left me a note and—” His bushy brows snapped up as understanding seemed to sink in, but he still asked, “What are you sayin’?”

  She stared back at him, sure he knew exactly what she was saying.

  The sheriff edged toward her. His eyes glittered. “You’re not thinkin’—”

  “I’m thinking I have an agent who was nearly killed,” her voice lowered, “and the killer shouldn’t have even known she was in the county, but somehow, he managed to be in the right place to grab her. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  His jaw dropped. “You’re sayin—”

  “I’m saying I want to know the name of every person who knew about Sam’s arrival.”

  “Anybody at the station could have—”

  “That’s right.” He knew where she was going with this. At the station, she’d counted at least a dozen deputies and three assistants. All of them would have been given access to the sheriff’s message board. Any of them could have learned about Sam.

  And that damn phone had been dumped right there, at the sheriff’s office.

  Could be that they needed to search harder for the killer.

  Or it could be that he was standing right beside them and they didn’t even know it.

  Luke stepped forward. “I’ll organize the team in the woods.”

  And she’d take the house, in case there were any more messages. They went into the hall, the sheriff’s curses following them.

  Luke caught her hand. “You saved her.”

  “No, you and Kenton, you—”

  He yanked her close and kissed her. Hard, fast, not enough. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and her fingers dug into his arms, holding on tight as she kissed him back with a stark hunger, the hunger and need that was always there. Even in the midst of hell.

  Luke tore his mouth from hers and stepped back. “Christ, sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.”


  But she’d needed him. Monica eased away from Luke. No one had seen them. They were safe. But the game they were playing was so dangerous.

  “You just looked broken when you found her,” he muttered. “I can’t see you that way.”

  She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “He’s not going to break me.”

  “No, he isn’t.” His gaze lingered on hers. Then he turned and strode down the hall.

  He nearly collided with Deputy Pope. “Sorry, ah, special agent,” the deputy said.

  Luke muttered something back and kept walking. Her eyes narrowed. The deputy was supposed to be outside, helping with the search.

  Lee’s gaze darted to her, and a flush stained his cheeks. Oh, shit, had he seen—

  “Agent Davenport.” Lee nodded, but his eyes were hooded. Too watchful.

  Monica lifted a brow. “Something you need, deputy?”

  His shoulders hunched a bit. “You—you like what you do?”

  “Some days.” But today…“Other days, when I have to get deep into a profile, those days are harder.” Couldn’t turn off the killers. No matter how hard she tried.

  “How do you know…” he inched closer to her, “what he’s thinking? I mean, you found the woman here so fast. How’d you know?”

  “Because this perp works on fear. I found out what his victim feared, and I used her fear to track him.”

  A drop of sweat slid down his right temple. “You had school for that, right? Where they taught you how to tune in?”

  Not exactly. “I’ve got a doctorate in psychology, but I also studied in the behavioral sciences division at Quantico.” Then there had been the hands-on training she’d gotten from a sociopathic killer.

  He licked his lips and glanced back over his shoulder. “I-I heard what you said to the sheriff.”

  She lifted a brow.

  “I-I got to that airport on time, I swear I did, but the flight was early. Agent Kennedy had already left.” His thin shoulders straightened. “I didn’t screw up this time, ma’am. I was there.”

  Just too late.

  “I checked everywhere for her, everywhere. But she was long gone.” His gaze bored into hers. “I tried to find her.”