He grunted and shifted in his seat. “Maybe I don’t want to find out for sure that I have someone on my team who is feeding information to a killer.”
Mallory sat very still and didn’t fidget even though her stomach felt decidedly wobbly. Obviously being targeted by a serial killer was affecting her more than she’d realized. But every time she fidgeted she figured she gave something about herself away to this man. Over the last few weeks she’d wanted to share less and less with the people she worked with. Trust had never been an issue for her before, the Bureau represented all that was good about the American justice system, but she’d never felt as betrayed as she had by Frazer sticking her on that hook and dangling her in front of the UNSUB the other night.
He’d almost gotten her killed.
“You can’t tell anyone, this has to remain a secret.” Mallory told this man with decades more experience than she had. “Have the IT tech monitor the cell phones. Don’t tell them why. You’ll have to tell them when they arrive that it’s just a training exercise.”
Finally he spoke. “There’s a cabin we can use...my brother-in-law has a place about an hour’s drive northwest of here. It’s on federal land so we have jurisdiction.” He moved his jaw from side to side. “He and my sister are in Egypt and I’m supposed to be going up there for Christmas anyway.”
“Can anyone trace it to you?”
He stared at her with those seen-it-all eyes. Shook his head. “I don’t think so. It would take a lot of digging. My sister was a widow when she married again so her last name wasn’t even Hanrahan. I certainly haven’t mentioned the place to anyone.”
“How are we going to do it?”
“You’re not going to do anything except observe.” He sat deep in thought for a moment. “It has to seem real, but we can’t involve any other law enforcement officers. I want this kept within the unit. If the media gets a sniff of scandal the whole thing will blow up out of control and we’ll never find these people. I’ll drive up there now and use the phone in the local store.” He pulled a digital voice changer out of his drawer. It reminded her she still needed to return Lucas’s call from the other day, see where he was on the Meacher investigation. “I’ll ask to be put through to Frazer—he’s been on the news about the PR-killer so it makes sense someone might approach him for a reward. Frazer will then call me and I’ll tell him to assemble the team and meet me at the store so we can check out the suspect. He’ll bitch and moan but I know him, he won’t be adverse to the idea of us leading the charge on this arrest.”
Her plan had been to report a sighting of the car that had been stolen during the double homicide in Colby. The IT guy would then monitor all cell calls from BAU agents and if someone was in league with the vigilante they’d know—or at least have a good idea who it might be. They could then work backward to collect evidence.
Hanrahan looked at his watch and all the paperwork on his desk. “If the assassin turns up at the cottage he’ll find an empty house.”
“You don’t want a SWAT team sitting on the place?”
Tired eyes met hers. “The most important thing to me is protecting the integrity of the BAU. Once we know who’s involved they’ll give us the assassin.” To avoid the death penalty. He rubbed both temples.
His phone rang and he indicated she wait while he took the call. When he hung up Hanrahan’s smile faded.
“One of the Greenville deputy sheriffs went AWOL.”
She sat forward. “Which one?”
Hanrahan checked his notes. “Deputy Sean Kennedy. Officers found Kari Regent’s backpack in his house and are testing a hairbrush for DNA.”
“A hairbrush? The guy was bald as a coot, why would he need a hairbrush?” asked Mallory.
“Their thoughts exactly.”
Mallory frowned. It didn’t make sense. “I knew him as a kid, but he’s only about my age, not old enough to have kidnapped Payton. And there’s no way he’s the guy who attacked me at Eastborne.”
Hanrahan shrugged. “He disappeared, so it’s suspicious. These attacks have been pretty sophisticated so maybe there’s more than one person involved.”
She was pretty sure more than one person had been involved in Payton’s abduction, but it still didn’t sit right. “Any news on Kari Regent?” Her parents were at her bedside, grief-stricken but with that rare commodity of hope.
Hanrahan sighed. “She’s still unconscious. The Bureau has a sketch artist on standby at the hospital for just as soon as she wakes up and is able to talk.”
“He made his first real mistake with her.” She wanted five minutes alone with the killer. Five minutes to try and find out the truth before the lawyers got to him.
“If she wakes up. If she remembers.”
Damn. “True. If we are going to use this ruse we need to do it fast, before they go and catch the guy.” Which she prayed was as soon as possible.
Hanrahan smiled. “So let’s get on with it. Watch your back, Rooney. Until we catch him remember this killer is gunning for you.”
And half her teammates too. “Thanks for the reminder, sir.”
“I’m about to start reprimanding you loudly. Ready?”
She nodded, it was part of her cover but she could live without the notoriety and drama. He started telling her that she’d taken unprecedented risks...blah blah blah. She opened the door, trying to escape. Special Agent Barton was walking past, pretending not to eavesdrop.
Out of nowhere nausea rose up and she bolted out of Hanrahan’s office, just making the ladies’ bathroom before she was ill. She hung over the toilet hoping to hell she wasn’t coming down with something.
There was a knock on the door.
“You okay?” Barton.
Mallory wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. She came out of the stall and washed her hands, then ran cold water over her wrists. “Must be something I ate.”
Barton gave her a wry smile. “Both times I was pregnant I barfed every day for six weeks. Made a hell of an impression on my colleagues” Her smile turned a little nasty. “I even managed to puke on one of my SACs who was a particularly unpleasant man down in Texas.”
“I’m not pregnant,” she snapped. They’d used protection every time.
Barton looked amused then wistful. “It isn’t so bad, you know—having kids—as long as you have a supportive spouse you can make it work with an FBI career.”
“I’m not pregnant.” How old were those condoms? Crap, she’d never thought to check.
Barton shrugged. “Well at least Alex Parker’s rich. You guys can afford a nanny.”
“And once again, I’m not pregnant and it’s none of your business.” She tried to remember when she’d last had her period. Damn.
“I checked his alibi. Jane Sanders says they’re old friends who went out to dinner the night Lindsay Keeble was abducted so he’s definitely not our PR-killer.”
Which she already knew.
She almost missed it, she was so freaked about skipping her period. She jerked to face the other agent. “Jane Sanders?”
“Yeah, your mother’s aide. What are the chances?” Those black eyes of Barton’s gleamed like jet. “I’m going to the cafeteria for some orange juice. Can I get you anything?”
“No. Thank you.” Mallory headed back to her desk. A ball of ice wedged inside her lungs and made it hard to breathe. Had her mother gone to some elaborate lengths to insert a man into her life—a man who could also act as her part-time bodyguard? That was ridiculous but...what were the odds of it being a coincidence?
She needed to call Alex and ask him outright. The feelings she had for him swamped anything she’d ever experienced before and maybe those feelings were screwing with her mind. And there was something even more important she needed to check before she spoke to him. She grabbed her keys and headed into town.
She drove to the nearest pharmacy, bought a pregnancy test, headed into the nearest McD’s and spent five long minutes waiting in the bathroom stall. Sweat beaded o
n her upper lip as she watched the line in the window turn blue. She closed her eyes and felt a flutter of panic in her chest. She wanted to scream. What the hell was she going to do?
The idea of a baby scared her to death. She was in a career where she put her life on the line on a regular basis and the man who’d stolen her sister had targeted her for the same treatment. What the hell would she do with a baby? What would the killer do?
In the space of five seconds she went from being horrified she was pregnant to knowing she’d kill to protect her child. What would Alex say when he found out? Christ, what if he was only seeing her because of some scheme her mother had set up? Her stomach turned over and tears welled in her eyes. Being pregnant certainly explained the recent swings of emotions and rapid onslaught of tears and nausea.
Great. At least it wasn’t terminal.
What if Alex wasn’t interested in long term? The idea cut to the bone. He’d told her at the start he wasn’t a good bet for a relationship—that he let people down. Maybe he’d been in this position before. For all she knew he already had a child somewhere and didn’t like the kid.
She loved Alex. She was pretty sure he loved her. He couldn’t be someone who worked for her mother. That was insane. But no way did she want him to feel obligated toward her. She had money. She had a good career. She laid her hand over her flat stomach. And it was early days and the test might be wrong.
She stood and whirled in a circle. Her phone rang but she ignored it. She didn’t know what to do. Did she tell him so they could deal with the situation together? Or did she keep it to herself for a few days while her brain processed the idea and she helped deal with the vigilante and the serial killer?
The door squealed as someone came into the restroom. Her phone vibrated again and she remembered she was still a target of the PR-killer. And now she didn’t just have herself to worry about. Her hand slipped to her Taser because she wanted him alive if possible.
Heart pounding she checked through the stall door and saw a woman pushing a stroller. She stuffed her Taser and pregnancy test in her purse to figure out later. Maybe it was a false positive. Maybe she’d read the instructions wrong. She came out of the stall and washed her hands, looking at the woman struggling with a toddler and a baby. “Do you need any help?”
The woman looked unsure and so Mallory flashed her badge. “I’m an FBI agent so I can watch junior if you need a minute.”
The woman nodded. “Thanks. Most people don’t get how difficult it can be.”
Mallory’s throat tightened. She had a feeling she was about to find out. The woman and toddler disappeared into a stall. She looked at the sleeping baby, so content, so...vulnerable. The idea of a child felt weird, alien. Amazing. Thrilling. Christ—like she’d been handed a miracle. A chance to make things better. But first she needed to make sure Payton’s killer was dealt with. And how she dealt with him was going to tell her everything she needed to know about the type of human being she really was.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Since he’d started doubting the integrity of their inside guy at the FBI, Alex had set up his own alert system regarding the PR-killer investigation that was now being run out of the FBI’s Washington Field Office in conjunction with the BAU and Greenville County Sheriff’s Office. To make things easier, he’d bugged Supervisory Special Agent Frazer’s phone.
This particular report was so fresh Alex barely had time to unlock his office door before he turned around again and left. He had a lead on the PR-killer and a good hour head-start on the BAU. He took the metro and walked the rest of the way to his storage garage. He went in the side door. Security was state of the art with reinforced steel doors. This was where he stored his weapons, his transportation, his disguises. He wasn’t about to leave it vulnerable to thieves.
As always he swept for bugs. Time was tight, but he worked best when he followed routine.
He took his favorite SIG P229 and suppressor from a floor safe. He opted for the beard disguise and a woolen hat that covered his ears. Ears were as individual as prints and he kept his obscured as much as possible when he was on a job. Hell, even blue jeans had been used to ID perps.
Mallory had left a message on his voice mail to say she was going out on a bust and that she’d be working late tonight. She assured him she wasn’t going to be alone for any reason at any time. With luck he could be back at Quantico ready to pick her up when they were both done.
If everything went to plan, her problems would be over and he’d then have to find a way to get the hell out of her life. The alternative was too tempting and she deserved better.
The thought made him stop dead.
For the first time in his life he wanted the normal things people wanted. A wife, a house, a family. All the things he couldn’t have because of the bad decisions he’d made. He was sick of lying, sick of killing.
But right now he had no choice.
This one was for Mallory. To keep her safe.
He got in an innocuous silver sedan and drove for an hour and twenty minutes. Most of the snow had melted but the occasional patch lingered deep in the trees. Winter was coming—ready or not. Unstoppable—a bit like this serial killer who started abducting young girls at least eighteen years ago and was still killing today. Wasn’t much of a moral dilemma to put a bullet in this guy’s skull.
Alex couldn’t underestimate the guy. He was smart and Alex didn’t have time to plan anything more sophisticated than a quick double tap. Head shots this time. No pissing around with body shots even though that meant Mallory would never get the answers she craved. Better to be alive and grieving than dead.
The roads got narrower and narrower and less congested the further north he got. He pulled over at a small convenience store on the lakeside about quarter of a mile from his target’s location.
“You rent out canoes?” he asked the guy behind the counter.
“Sure do. Not much call for it this time of year though.”
A little too much daylight for Alex’s plan but sometimes it was better to hide in plain sight.
“You on vacation?” the man asked. He had shrewd eyes beneath bushy eyebrows. This guy wouldn’t forget a face.
“Driving to Denver to start a new job, but couldn’t resist one last paddle before I hit the Midwest.”
“It’s beautiful country. Guess it wouldn’t do any harm to take one out. No ice on the lake yet. That’ll be fifty bucks an hour with a hundred dollar deposit. Canoes are around the side.” He jerked his head in the general direction of the lake. “If you need a hand, let me know.”
He handed him a life jacket. Alex thanked him and paid cash. Small bills. He didn’t worry about fingerprints. He didn’t have any. Contact DNA was another matter but hard to prove given how many people had handled those notes over the years.
He carried the canoe down to the small dock and went back for the paddle. He climbed in, placing a small backpack between his knees. The water was clear and flat. The only leaves on the trees were yellowed and stubborn. It was cold out on the lake and his breath froze, but it was so peaceful the quietness washed over him like a balm. A fish jumped.
He scanned the properties along the shoreline. A pretty part of the world but not that isolated. Neighbors would notice if someone was using a cabin that was supposed to be empty. Alex spotted the property and glided on past. The place looked quiet, curtains drawn. No fire despite the November chill. Didn’t look like anyone was around. He paddled up to an inlet around a small headland and pulled up on a small man-made beach. The lake looped around and the ridge above him would provide a clear elevated view while allowing him to keep his distance. He hopped out and pulled the canoe up the beach. No one was home here either which was a definite plus. He climbed the ridge, hidden by trees until he could survey where this guy was supposed to be holed up. The property was still a ways off, just visible through the trees. Minutes ticked by, but he didn’t see anything.
He sat quietly. No hint of smoke in the
chimney. No car this side of the building. He waited. Feds took their time in these situations and got lots of back-up. He checked his cell phone to make sure it was set to vibrate. There was a new message from Mallory. She needed to talk to him but nothing urgent she assured him.
His heart gave a twinge. What the hell was he going to do about Mallory? He’d fallen for her like a HALO jump gone bad. Worse, she’d fallen for him and he didn’t want to see her hurt.
At some point she had to dump his ass because she was incredible and he was a lying asshole. But until this guy was dead—one hundred percent categorically not breathing with no hope of resuscitation dead—he wasn’t going anywhere.
A quiver ran down his back and he frowned as he scanned the area. Something didn’t feel right. Rodman hadn’t felt right either and he’d been a pedophile who fucked kids for fun.
Silence of the woods pressed down on him. It was too quiet. The whole situation felt like a trap. But if the PR-killer was here it could be over in minutes. Over like Meacher was over. Over. Finished. Dead.
The headache was back. Shit. Something really didn’t feel right. He backed up slowly, careful not to make a sound as he got back in his canoe and paddled further down the lake, going all the way around before hitting the far shore. Then he powered back to the shop and jetty. No way was he ignoring his instincts. They might be flawed but the fact he was still alive was a testament to their veracity.
He returned the canoe to the store and collected his deposit with a polite smile. A silver-haired guy was perusing magazines at the back of the store. Alex’s nape prickled. He bought a packet of chips and a can of Coke, got into his car.
Seconds later a convoy of three vehicles with government plates rolled past. Mallory was in the last vehicle and he sat there frozen like a two-by-four, but she wasn’t looking at him.
A rush of emotion filled him. Despite the certainty that they were here to arrest him he sat there looking at her. The first two cars emptied but instead of surrounding him, the agents rushed up the steps and confronted the silver-haired man. Through the glass he could hear them complaining about “training exercises”.
01 A Cold Dark Place Page 24