by Herron, Rita
All his fault—he should have saved her and the baby.
Dr. Bullock scratched his forehead. “You know something else? I got word that Harlan was an organ donor. He specifically donated his brain for study.”
Disgust filled Rafe. “How arrogant. He thought we’d want to study his demented mind.”
“Might not be a bad idea,” Dr. Bullock said. “There are studies being done on the brains of serial killers.”
Rafe released a breath. “Let’s move on.”
Dr. Bullock gestured toward another steel table, and they walked over to it. A partial skeleton, organs in various dishes, tissues. “There were three bodies in that crash. The pilot and two others.”
Rafe thought back to the roof. He’d seen the secretary of defense. Had the other man been Blackwood?
“The other two bodies were blown to bits, and parts were burned beyond recognition in the fire. So far, I’ve identified organs belonging to the secretary of defense, along with a hair sample that belonged to him.” He shoved his glasses up his nose and indicated the finger in a separate dish. “This finger definitely belonged to Commander Blackwood. I also found hair samples and clothing with his DNA.”
“Which meant he was there in the fire.”
Nick and Jake would be relieved at the news. Now their families could feel safe.
“What about the DNA from the Ester Banning and Rusty Lintell scenes? Did it belong to Harlan?”
Bullock shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Rafe went stone cold.
If Harlan’s didn’t match, that meant he hadn’t killed Lintell and Banning.
He’d lied about being the Dissector.
Which meant the sadistic mutilator was still out there, hunting . . .
Liz pulled up to the drive-in, her senses honed. It had been shut down for years.
As a teen she and her friends had spread blankets on the hoods of their cars or in the back of pickup trucks and shared popcorn and sodas while they watched the latest flick. Occasionally someone snuck in beer, and it turned into a party.
She’d forgotten about that time because it happened before her mother’s death. After her death, finding her mother’s killer had consumed all her thoughts.
The place was deserted now, had been for ages, but the metal posts that had held the speakers were still there, rusted and swaying as the rain poured down around them. The screen was torn, by weather or vandalism. And the shed where they’d bought refreshments was boarded up.
She scanned the parking lot, wondering why Amelia had chosen to meet here. It must be because she didn’t want anyone else to know she was spilling secrets.
Odd though, that she hadn’t turned to her brother-in-law, Jake.
Suddenly a vehicle rolled toward her, its brights on, and she opened her car door and stepped out. Still, her training kicked in, and she pulled her gun from her purse and slid it into the holster inside her jacket. If this was a setup, she’d be prepared.
The car stopped and the driver got out, but the headlights blinded her.
“Amelia, is that you?”
Tension coiled inside her as the shadowy figure approached. She had a bad feeling and drew her gun, but the figure lunged toward her, and for the second time in two days a stun gun zapped her, sending her body into spasms of pain.
She struggled to remain upright, but the voltage was too high. She collapsed into the dirt and fell into unconsciousness.
Amelia studied the newscast as the TV replayed the interview with Brenda, Jake, Nick, and the other agents, Rafe Hood and Liz Lucas.
Brenda looked beautiful as always. She had been a good friend to Amelia, even when she was all mixed up and the others were fighting in her head.
But they showed a picture of a man with a scar on his face and eyes that looked like demon eyes, and her stomach twisted into a knot. The man was Ned Harlan. He had confessed to being the Dissector.
Deep inside, she’d been afraid Six was guilty. Not that he’d ever hurt her, but the Commander had done things to him that had warped his mind. He did have a violent streak.
And all the women who’d died had been nurses who’d tormented the children in the sanitarium. Nurses who should have helped them and loved them and reported what was going on.
Had she been wrong about Six?
God, she hoped so . . .
Her nerves on edge, she grabbed her cell phone and punched his number in. The phone rang three times before he answered. “Six, it’s me.”
“What do you want, Amelia?”
He sounded as if he was distracted. Angry that she’d phoned.
“I needed to hear your voice. Did you see the news?”
“Yes. Agent Lucas is here with me now.”
A muffled sound followed, as if he’d covered up the phone, and then a scream rent the air.
Amelia gripped the phone in a panic. Agent Lucas was with him . . .
“What are you doing?”
“I have to go, Amelia.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “As soon as I’m finished, we can be together.”
He disconnected the call, and Amelia paced the room. The voices started in her head again. Rachel’s. You’re a whore. And now you’re helping him kill a woman.
Amelia pressed her hands over her ears. “No, stop it.”
You stop it, Amelia. You’re the only one that can. The only one who knows where he has the woman.
A sob wrenched Amelia’s chest. She didn’t want Agent Lucas to die. Liz Lucas had never hurt her or Six. She hadn’t been part of the experiment.
He’s going to kill her now if you don’t call someone, Rachel whispered.
Amelia’s heart pounded so loudly, she heard the blood roaring in her ears. Rachel was right.
She had to do something. She had to save Agent Lucas.
Heart heavy, she ran outside to get Sadie.
Rafe was just leaving the morgue when his phone buzzed.
“Agent Hood, I got an address for that woman Truitt was accused of assaulting.”
“Text it to me,” Rafe said. “I want to see if Truitt is there.”
The deputy texted him the address, and Rafe crossed the mountain to the neighborhood where the woman lived. Her house was a weathered clapboard one-story hanging off the side of a ridge.
When he pulled up, chickens were roaming in the yard, and a mangy dog barked from where it lay beneath an oak, although it didn’t bother to get up. A pickup and Pathfinder were parked in front.
He climbed out, hurried up to the door, and knocked. The door screeched open, and a chunky woman in a faded shirt and jeans poked her head through.
Rafe identified himself. “I need to talk to you about J. R. Truitt.”
She cut her eyes to the side, nervous. “He didn’t kill them women.”
Rafe raised a brow. “Is he here?”
“No. But he was, and he’s all tore up, and scared you’re gonna lock him up.”
Rafe gritted his teeth. “I’ll only lock him up if he’s guilty.”
“He ain’t.”
“Aren’t you the one who filed charges against him for assault?”
She fidgeted with a strand of her hair. “That was a mistake. Back then, J. R. was drinking, and we got into it. But he quit drinking after that night, hasn’t touched a drop since.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He called a little while ago, all upset. Said he lost his mama and me, and now the police thought he was cutting up women.”
Women never ceased to amaze him. This one actually felt sorry for the man.
“Do you have any idea where he’d go?”
She shook her head. “Just don’t hurt him when you find him. He’s not a bad man.”
Dammit, they needed that DNA test.
His phone buz
zed, and he checked the number. Jake.
He punched connect. “Agent Hood.”
“Rafe, it’s Jake. Listen, Liz is in trouble.”
Rafe’s blood turned cold. “What happened?”
“Amelia just told me Harlan is not Six. She called Six a few minutes ago and heard Liz scream.”
Terror immobilized Rafe. “Where are they?”
“Amelia says she can lead us there. She thinks he’s the Dissector.”
“We can’t take Amelia with us.”
“She insists. She claims she can talk him down.”
A war raged in Rafe’s head as he rushed back to his SUV. Taking a civilian into a dangerous situation was against everything he believed in. But Liz’s life was at stake.
And if Six and Amelia were close, she might be helpful.
“All right.”
“Meet us at my office and we’ll ride together.”
Worry knotted every muscle in Rafe’s body as he sped toward the sheriff’s office. Images of what Six had done to the other women tormented him.
He was sadistic. He had a hand, an eye, a tongue—what did he plan to take from Liz?
The thought of him cutting her up made him clench the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Liz had already suffered too much.
Tires squealed as he swung in to the sheriff’s office. Jake pulled in about the same time, his siren wailing, blue lights rotating.
Rafe jumped out and climbed in the front seat. Amelia was seated in the back, twisting her hands, looking nervous and scared.
“Amelia, thank you for telling Jake,” Rafe said, his voice racked with emotion.
Amelia nodded, her eyes clouding over. “I didn’t know . . . didn’t think he really would kill them.”
“The nurses?” Rafe asked.
She nodded. “He can’t help it,” she whispered. “It’s what they did to him.”
“It’s okay, Amelia, we can talk about it later. Just tell Jake where to go.”
“There’s an old house where he’s been hiding,” Amelia said. “I met him there before.”
“Where is it?” Rafe asked.
“In the mountains off Route Four.”
“That’s not too far from here,” Jake said.
Sweat broke out all over Rafe’s body. Any distance was too far if Liz was in danger.
Rafe’s phone buzzed, and he pressed answer, praying for good news.
“Agent Hood, it’s Dr. Bullock. I ran the blood sample from Brian Castor.”
“Does it match the killer’s?”
“Yes and no. There are some similar markers, meaning he and the killer are related.”
“So the unsub has to be his brother, who was adopted. Not Harlan.”
He hung up and relayed the news to Jake, then phoned the lieutenant to see if he could locate Brian Castor.
Jake roared into the street, blue lights pulsing and siren blasting. He raced through traffic, spun to the right, and began to climb the mountain. The switchbacks forced him to slow, tires squealing as he rounded curve after curve, The latest snowfall still glittered on the ridges above, the ground frozen from the sleet and hailstorm, the trees bare, branches bowing with the weight of the weather.
The minutes felt like hours, the world slowing, the fear inside Rafe mounting with each mile. What was the unsub doing to Liz now? Was he going to torture her before he killed her?
Amelia began to rock herself back and forth in the car, her gaze trained outside her window.
“She can’t be dead,” Amelia whispered. “She can’t be. I have to stop him.”
“We will,” Jake assured her.
Rafe hoped to hell he was right. He didn’t know how he’d go on if he lost her.
Dammit. He never should have left her alone.
“There, to the left.” Amanda pointed to a turnoff that was hardly visible. It looked more like a man-made path than a road. Jake flipped off the siren and lights, not wanting to alert Six that they were coming.
The car bounced over the rough dirt road as it wound deeper into the woods. Finally they spotted a clearing ahead.
An outbuilding sat to the left of the main house. Rafe spotted a low light burning inside it.
“Have you been out there?” Rafe asked.
Amelia sniffled. “Yes, once. But I only went in the house.” She gestured to the outbuilding. “He . . . told me not to go out there.”
Jake slowed to a stop and cut off the engine. “Wait here, Amelia,” Jake said.
“No, I’m going.” She jutted up her chin. “I know him, Jake. Maybe I can talk to him and make him stop what he’s doing.”
Jake glanced at Rafe, and Rafe shrugged an okay. They emerged from the car, pulling their guns.
“Stay behind us,” Jake told Amelia.
She nodded, clasping her hands as she followed them.
Rafe motioned for Jake to search the main house while he checked the outbuilding. He slowly crept up to it, squatting low and staying out of sight.
His breath rattling with fear, he rose just high enough to peer into a window. Sheer terror shot through him.
The man had covered the walls and windows with heavy plastic. Liz was lying on a table in the middle, unmoving.
On a shelf, facing Liz, sat jars holding the Dissector’s trophies.
Chapter Thirty-One
Liz did not want to die. She had to stall.
Her abductor’s phone buzzed, and he snatched it up. “Hey, Nine.”
Nine. They were all connected, communicating, and protecting each other. If that was true, they might be adopting each other’s MOs, or parts of MOs, to throw the police off.
Their plan had worked.
Her attacker turned away, lowered his voice, and paced for a moment. When he ended the call, he seemed even more agitated.
“I know you were part of the experiment, and that you were horribly mistreated,” Liz said, dragging her gaze away from the jars of body parts on the wall. The eye the Dissector had taken seemed to stare at Liz, condemning her for not saving the woman it had come from.
Her attacker waved the scalpel in front of her face. It was dark, but a dim lamp in the corner gave just enough light for her to see him.
“Six?”
“Yes,” he said with a leer.
Only she knew this man. Not Brian Castor or J. R. Truitt.
The director of the Sanitarium.
Anderson Loggins.
He was Jeremy Castor.
“You said you came to the sanitarium to clean it up,” Liz said.
“I did.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “That’s what I’ve been doing. Cleaning away all the dirty ones from the past.”
“The people who hurt you?”
“Who hurt me and Amelia. They treated her so badly.”
“Then you found out about your brother, Brian?”
A bitter look sharpened his eyes. “Brian. He got all the love. They gave me away.”
Liz mentally pieced together the facts. The Castors had adopted the boys, but by then Jeremy was already exhibiting problems.
“I’m so sorry,” Liz said. “I understand now why you killed those nurses.”
His eyes flickered with a wildness that sent a shiver through Liz. The stench of blood and death permeated the room.
“Nurses are supposed to be angels,” Loggins said. “They’re supposed to protect and take care of children, not hurt them.”
“You’re right,” Liz said, struggling with the bindings around her wrists.
“And they’re not supposed to split up brothers.”
Loggins paused, then nodded slowly.
“Why did we only find paperwork for Brian?” Liz continued cautiously.
He returned to his frenetic pacing and waved his hand. “I had to get rid o
f those adoption papers.”
“Why is that?”
He barked a sinister laugh. “I didn’t want a paper trail. I had to wipe out any trace that I existed so no one would look for me.”
“And you gave us that file so we wouldn’t look for any more subjects.”
“I had to protect them.”
“Tell me who they are and I’ll protect them.”
Loggins shook his head, his movements jerky. “No. You’ll send them back to the nuthouse.” He pointed the scalpel at her. “No way that’s going to happen.”
Panic seized Liz. He looked as if he was going to explode with rage any moment. The rage that made him kill. “Then tell me the names of the others who hurt you, and I’ll arrest them and make sure they never hurt anyone else again.”
Six paced the room, his agitation mounting. “No, no, they have to die.” He lunged back at Liz, waving the scalpel above her face. “And so do you.”
The Dissector waved the scalpel in front of Liz’s face, and Rafe saw red. His gun at the ready, he burst into the room from a back door. “Drop the weapon or I’ll shoot.”
The Dissector whirled around, his eyes crazed. “No . . . I have to finish.”
Rafe aimed the gun at his chest. Loggins. He had insinuated himself into the sanitarium as the new director. That gave him access to files and the staff, where he could destroy records, cover for all the subjects.
“I said put down the weapon, or I’ll shoot.”
Behind him the floor squeaked, and Amelia and Jake stepped into the doorway, “Please, drop it,” Amelia said softly. She inched up beside him. “I don’t want them to hurt you.”
Indecision clouded his eyes as he glanced back and forth between them. “But they have to die. You know what they did to us.”
“Agent Lucas never hurt us,” Amelia said, tears in her voice. “She wants to find the people who abused us and make them pay.”
“That’s true,” Liz said softly. “I promise I’ll help you.”
“She will,” Amelia said. “Please don’t hurt her, Six. I . . . don’t want to lose you.”
Six made a low sound in his throat, as if debating what to do.
“Please, look at me,” Amelia said. “Remember the future we talked about.”