by Cynthia Eden
“If you should want to comment to me—in an official capacity or even in an unofficial one...” She winked at him. “Here’s my card.”
He took the card but didn’t look at it as he tucked it in his pocket.
Samantha cleared her throat. “Now’s the time for you to do that whole vacating the premises thing, Janice. And don’t come back, not unless you’re called. I mean that. I’ve played nice with you so far, but that ends. You’re crossing the line.”
“Understood.” But Janice seemed to be focusing only on Blake. “Hopefully, someone will be calling me.” Then she turned on her heel and hurried off to meet the two men. A few moments later, they were loaded in their van and driving off.
Samantha stared after them. “We’ve got a leak in Lewis’s department.”
Yeah, unfortunately, they did.
“Be on guard with her,” Samantha warned him, turning to slant him a hooded glance. “She used to be a reporter up in Chicago—that was her big league. But when she got caught in a compromising position with a certain senator, she found herself bumped from that market. Janice is smart, tough and determined to get back on top. If she thinks this case is her ticket to the headlines, she isn’t going to stop.”
He absorbed that for a moment. “And she’s your...friend?”
Samantha started walking toward his waiting SUV. “Hardly. She’s been hounding me from day one for an interview. Between her and the book publishers who keep wanting me to write a tell-all about my ‘Life with a Killer’—let’s just say I’ve gotten used to telling folks no.”
Once they were in the vehicle, he turned toward her. “A tell-all? About Latham?”
Her smile was bitter. “People love dirt, Blake. It’s the nature of the beast. They want to hear all the terrible secrets out there. They want to salivate over someone else’s pain.”
“And you haven’t been tempted to do one of those tell-alls? To set the record straight?”
“Maybe one day.” She hooked her seat belt. “After I’ve caught Cameron and tossed his ass in prison.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEY WERE BACK at the bomb scene. Samantha was pretty sure that every single patrol car from the city of Fairhope was out there. Police officers walked the area, searching the ground, and Lewis stood in the middle of the scene, barking his orders. She suspected he’d been there all night. Lewis wasn’t the kind to give up easily.
A crowd had gathered, a group of onlookers who were being kept just beyond the patrol cars. They were straining their necks to see the action. Instead of looking at the cops, Samantha looked at the crowd. Sometimes, killers really did return to the scene of the crime. They came back because they got a rush out of being close to the investigation. Some killers would even insert themselves into the investigation, acting as if they were volunteers who wanted to help the authorities.
Being that close just made the rush all the sweeter for them.
Samantha caught the arm of a local cop, a woman with short red hair. “Get the names and numbers of every person in the crowd. Check the IDs. Don’t miss anyone.”
She nodded and hurried off to obey.
She caught sight of a familiar news van, and her lips thinned. Great. Janice and her crew had just arrived at the scene. More vultures to join the crowd. “Keep the reporters back!” Samantha yelled to the retreating cop.
She nodded.
The female officer didn’t seem to realize that she had no authority there. And Samantha sure wasn’t acting like a civilian, either. That was the problem—she didn’t feel like a civilian. She still felt as if she were FBI.
She turned from the crowd and studied the broken pier. For an instant, she could still feel the flames rushing into the air, whipping past her. It had been a near thing. Far too close. Just how many times could you cheat death before you ran out of options?
* * *
THE REPORTER WAS his ticket. Janice Beautfont. He’d called her, left a tip, giving her all sorts of juicy tidbits. She’d been so eager to know more. A woman with a desperate edge.
He could use that desperation.
He watched her as she and her crew pushed others out of their way. Hungry for the story. So hungry that they left the back of their van ajar. He slipped over to the van. No one was watching him. All of the action was out in the water. He eased the door open just a bit more, and he slipped his little gift inside.
Janice would appreciate it, he was sure. Either she’d put it on the air or, maybe, if she happened to have a conscience, she’d give it to the cops first.
Either way, the message would get delivered.
He stepped away from the van and spotted a uniformed cop slowly making her way through the crowd.
Time to vanish. He rolled back his shoulders and took off, moving on the old trail that would take him away from the crime scene and away from the cops. He didn’t intend to get busted. Not then. Not ever. Latham had told him that prison would be hell, and he had no intention of ever being locked away in a cage.
* * *
THE COPS WERE giving her jackshit. Janice glowered at the scene even as sweat trickled down her spine. Sweat in the winter...that was the fucking South for you. She hated this place. She wanted to get her ass back to Chicago. Back to snow. Back to the big leagues. And she would get there, by God.
She would.
“Pack it in!” Janice barked to her team. “I want to get edits going on the videos and get them playing at the station.” And there was nothing to see out there, at least, not at that particular moment. She was tired of baking. She’d go to the station, run with some of the footage she’d taken from Samantha’s place and then regroup. She could always hit up the police station later. Maybe, maybe she’d be able to smooth talk Captain Lewis.
She made her way back to the van, glowering. Her cameraman, John, beat her there, pulling open the back door. He leaned inside to dump his equipment, but then he turned back to her, lifting something up in his hand. “Hey, you left your phone in here.”
No, she hadn’t. “Not mine.” She never went anywhere without her phone.
John frowned. “It was right in the back of the van...just sitting there. It’s not mine.” His finger swiped over the screen.
She saw his face go white. Absolutely white. And he dropped the phone. She heard the screen smash. “John, what in the hell?” Janice scooped up the phone. A spiderweb-like crack slid across the screen. “What were you—”
She stopped. An image was on that screen. A blood-soaked image of the woman she knew to be Tammy White. After all, she’d been researching the woman ever since she heard about the disappearance, ever since that tip had come through on her line...
Her fingers were trembling.
“That’s her,” John whispered. “Oh, my God.”
Her intern, Billy, strained to get closer.
Yes, yes, it was the missing woman. Janice scrolled through some of the pictures. Saw the video that was waiting, and then her finger hovered over the screen to start play.
“Agent Gamble!” John bellowed from beside her. “Agent Gamble, you need to see this!”
Her gaze flew up to him. She glared.
He glared back. “That woman is a victim. Sometimes, you have to turn off the goddamn story.”
Agent Gamble was running toward them. Samantha was right at his heels. Janice pasted a smile on her face. “We found something you need to see.” She sure wished she’d had time to view the video.
But she still had a scoop. A big one.
Tammy White is dead.
Blake Gamble came to a stop in front of her. She showed him the phone, the images...but her gaze was on Samantha’s face. She saw the shock that flashed on the other woman’s features. Shock, pain.
Rage.
Samantha Dark wasn’t as
controlled as she wanted the world to think she was.
“Someone put the phone in our van,” she murmured. “I hope it can help the investigation...”
* * *
SAMANTHA SAT IN Lewis’s office, her gaze on his computer screen. His officers had confiscated the phone, and his tech team—not really a team, just one young cop—had transferred the files on that phone so that they had a copy to view.
The first video file was about to play.
Blake stood behind her. Lewis was sitting stiffly in the chair to her right. The tech guy—Todd Delaney—pressed a few buttons on the keyboard. The file immediately opened.
“You were the one who should have died.” Tammy’s face filled the screen. She was sitting down, her hands pulled behind her, and she stared straight ahead. “You, Samantha Dark, are the reason I was taken. He was never interested in me. It was you. Always...you.”
Nausea rose in Samantha’s throat.
Tammy licked her lips—lips that were cracked and raw. “The death of Kristy Wales is on you. How does that feel? Knowing that a woman died because of you?”
Lewis swore.
“Should I stop playback?” Todd asked, jerking a nervous hand through his mop of brown hair. His skin had gone stark white, making his freckles stand out in sharp contrast.
“No,” Samantha said flatly.
Blake’s hand curled around her shoulder.
“Where is Dr. Latham?” Tammy asked, staring straight ahead. A tear slid down her cheek. “What did you do to him, Agent Dark? Why won’t you say?”
I should have killed him.
“How many more people—” Tammy’s cracked lips trembled “—will have to die before you pay for your crimes?” She exhaled, a rough, ragged sigh.
The video kept playing.
Tammy gave a faint, hopeful smile. “That’s...it, right? I...I said everything this time?”
This time. The man filming Tammy had made her practice her speech.
“I tried really hard,” Tammy continued, giving a quick nod and looking so oddly earnest that it made Samantha’s heart ache. “I wanted to get it right.”
The angle changed—as if someone had just lowered the camera or phone or whatever instrument had been used to film Tammy.
“You got it just right,” a low voice rasped.
Tammy’s smile stretched. “Then you’ll let me go? Y-you said there would be no more pain.”
“There won’t be.” A man walked into the shot. All that could be seen of him was his broad back and the ball cap he’d pulled over his head. “I’ll make it fast.”
“You’ll—”
His hand lifted. Light glinted off the blade he held. Tammy didn’t get to say anything else. The blade flew at her, and then her blood—her blood was flying. Spattering—hitting the man who’d hurt her. Hitting the wall near her.
“Dear God,” Todd whispered.
The man in the video stood there a moment more, and the knife slowly lowered to his side. Blood dripped from the knife. He didn’t glance back at the camera. “I’m coming for you, Samantha Dark. I’ll keep killing until I get you.”
Then he turned and...being so careful, never once showing his face, returned for the camera. The angle of the video changed again, focusing once more on Tammy. Tammy slumped in the chair, the wound at her neck gaped open and blood drenched her dirty shirt.
“Fucking bastard,” Lewis growled.
Blake’s hand tightened on Samantha’s shoulder.
The video ended.
I’ll keep killing until I get you.
She opened her mouth to speak but just couldn’t. The lump in Samantha’s throat was too thick. Too hard. She was staring at a dead woman. A woman who’d died for no reason. No damn reason at all.
“We’re looking for a body,” Blake said flatly, no emotion at all in his voice. “We’re going to need cadaver dogs. We’ll get clothing from Tammy’s apartment to help them track her scent. But with so much water in the area, our perp could have just dumped the vic’s body. I’ve got USERT divers from the FBI scheduled to arrive at any time. They’ll search and see if they can find—”
Samantha lurched to her feet. Her cheeks were ice-cold, then red-hot. “I need...air.” She needed to stop staring at Tammy’s horrible final image. You said there would be no more pain. “Excuse me.” She stumbled for the door.
But Blake moved into her path. “Samantha?” Worry was in his eyes.
“Let me go.” She’d never had a reaction like this on other cases, no matter how gory or brutal they were, but this—this was different. This was personal. This was...
How many more people will have to die before you pay for your crimes?
She was going to be sick.
Samantha shoved past Blake. She wasn’t an FBI agent. She didn’t have to stay strong. She didn’t have to act as if seeing a woman die hadn’t just ripped out her heart. She yanked open the door to Lewis’s office. She could hear voices, phones, everything was so normal out there.
But nothing was normal for Tammy White, not anymore. She was dead...her body dumped somewhere. In a shallow grave. In a watery grave.
And the killer...he was probably already hunting again.
She shoved open the door that led outside and immediately ran straight into Janice.
“You watched the video?” Janice asked eagerly. “What was on it? What did it show?”
A woman dying. “Get out of my way. I have no comment for you now.”
Janice’s eyes narrowed. “I helped you! I could have run that video live on the air!”
What a nightmare that would have been. “Leave me alone, Janice. This isn’t the time.”
“Fine,” Janice gritted. “But there’d better be a time later, Samantha. You owe me now, and I expect a payback.”
The cameraman was beside her, watching and glaring at Janice. And Samantha remembered that he’d been the one to call out to Blake. He’d been the one to report the phone. If that guy hadn’t been there, would Janice have run with the evidence on live TV?
Samantha turned away from her. She rushed down the road, trying to take in deep breaths and trying to forget Tammy White’s terrible last moments. But I can’t forget them. Just as I can’t forget her. She’s with me now...
Always.
* * *
“DON’T,” CAPTAIN LEWIS said flatly. “Don’t even think about going after that woman right now.”
Blake whirled toward him. “I think I know how to handle my partner—”
“That’s the thing.” Lewis ran a hand over his face. “Samantha isn’t your partner, not any longer.” He nodded toward a too-pale Todd. “Turn off that fucking video. Go get the cadaver dogs. Tell the officers we’re...” He swallowed. “We’re looking for a body. I’ll be right behind you. And make damn sure that the news van is still secure. I want every inch of that thing checked for prints.”
“Yes, sir.” Todd snapped off the video. He hustled out the door, his body brushing past Blake’s.
Blake started to head after him.
“She doesn’t want to talk with you right now.” Lewis’s words were low. “Samantha doesn’t like for anyone to see her when she’s weak.”
Blake glanced back at him.
“Of course,” the captain added, “I’ve never really thought she was weak. She’s the strongest person I ever met. This shit with the FBI didn’t break her, her father’s death didn’t break her, and this son of a bitch who thinks he’s gonna play mind games with her?” He gave a grim shake of his head. “That guy will find himself way out of his league. Sammie will take him down.”
Blake shut the door. It was time to clear the air between them. “The FBI is officially taking over this case.” Just so there was no doubt. “My full team will be arriving so
on. The executive assistant director will want to take over the investigation.”
Lewis grunted. “I’d like to give that asshole a piece of my mind.”
Blake’s gaze raked the captain. “You’re protective of Samantha.”
“Like you’re not?” Lewis threw right back at him. “Samantha pulls out those kinds of instincts, in the right sort of people.” He nodded as if he’d just reached some kind of decision. “Something you need to know about Sammie. She learned early to be careful who to trust in this world. Those close to you can turn on you in an instant. Especially someone like you.”
The guy had just insulted him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Lewis rolled back his shoulders. “Her father was a good cop. One of the best I’ve ever seen. He trained me.” A faint smile curled his lips. “He was my friend, and I...I was at his side the day he buried his wife. Cancer took Melanie when Samantha was just five years old.” Grief darkened his face. “I’ll never forget the sight of her in her little dress, standing at her mother’s grave, asking her dad... Asking him when her mommy would wake up.”
Shit.
“Harrison Dark loved his daughter. And he loved his job. He loved protecting people, but he... There were some shady cops in the department. He was implicated. Folks said he was on the take. Harry was kicked off the force, and he came back here. His father used to own land here, the place Samantha still has, up on the bluff. Harry came back here, but he swore that he’d prove he was innocent. The guy started a file. He was working to catch the guys who’d set him up. One day, I came to visit him...he had this whole room pretty much wallpapered with evidence that he’d been amassing.”
And Blake remembered the small room that Samantha had set up in her home. The way she was tracking Latham. Like father, like daughter.
“I made a mistake that day,” Lewis spoke slowly. “I went back... I was still on the force in Huntsville. I went up there and I said the wrong thing to the wrong person...” His eyes squeezed shut. “Harry’s ex-partner. I thought I could trust him. I mean, a partner is supposed to have your back, right?”
Oh, hell. Now he knew why he’d been insulted.