He was about to dial Parker when his cell rang.
“We have a 911 from Dr. Campbell’s cell phone.” Terror gripped him as he walked back out into the blustery night. The chief continued. “Can’t make out voices but it’s all being recorded in case we can digitally enhance it later.”
“Did you track the signal?”
“We have a call in to the service provider—”
“I’ll call you back.” Frazer hung up and called Parker. “911 call coming from Isadora Campbell’s cell phone. I need to know exactly where that phone is, right now.” Frazer waited for what seemed like forever.
Thirty seconds later. “Phone’s at Parson’s Point. Not sure exactly where but—”
“That’s okay. I know where he’ll be.” It was the only place that made any sense. Grundy didn’t know they were on to him. He thought he had plenty of time. Frazer got in the car, Randall throwing himself into the passenger side as Frazer drove away. “Call Tyson. Parson’s Point. Fill him in.”
His cell phone rang again, and he checked the number. Patrick Killion—the spook who was helping him hunt the Vice President’s assassin. He owed the guy too much to ignore the call.
“What is it?” he bit out.
“I think I found her.”
Shit. They’d been hunting this woman for weeks. “I’m in a situation here.”
“She might be gone in an hour. You want her, you need to make some calls now.”
Dammit. He didn’t have time, and as far as he knew, she was only a threat to the bad guys. Shit, he needed to stop being such a hypocrite. He’d made choices that should have him in prison serving life for murder. It made Isadora Campbell’s misdeeds positively tame in comparison.
“Leave her, Killion.”
“You sure?”
“We’ll figure it out later. I’ve got something more important to deal with.” Much more important—like trying to save the only woman ever to sneak past his guard and into his heart from a vicious serial offender who’d been getting away with murder for decades. He hung up. He could only assume Seth Grundy didn’t know Isadora had activated her cell phone. The guy hadn’t planned to take her. Just like he hadn’t planned to kill Helena. But Grundy sure as hell knew how to improvise.
* * *
YELLOW POLICE TAPE surrounded the entire dune system, but the place was unguarded. The tape was fighting a losing battle against the wind and more than one length had ripped free to dance above the lashing grass. Seth had Barney on a tight leash, the gun pointed very steadily at her poor dog as he motioned her ahead of him. There was no way he had Kit—or if he did, there was no way her sister was alive.
Izzy climbed carefully over the wooden fence, carrying the shovel. She’d been thrust back in time and was finally paying the price for her sins. Sand filled her socks, and her feet were freezing. For some reason, that felt like the most surreal thing of all—practical Izzy Campbell, walking in the sand dunes in winter without her shoes. The feeling of gritty particles between her toes made her teeth ache. She had no idea if anyone was coming to help her, or if she’d even successfully called 911.
“Where’s Mary?” she asked.
“She’s up ahead.”
“Is she alive?”
“Of course she’s alive. I tied her up is all.”
Tied Mary up and then returned Izzy’s car? Actually, she wouldn’t put it past him, but she doubted that meant the woman was alive.
Every stride brought Izzy closer to the end. She wasn’t going to just give up, but how could she get Seth to drop the gun? Her fingers tightened on the shovel.
The wind almost pushed her over when she reached the top of the foredune. A strong hand pushed her, and she stumbled down the steep slope on the other side, sprawling to the ground and drawing in a sharp breath as pain slashed her ribs.
She drew herself up, using the shovel as a brace.
“Get up,” Seth shouted over the wind. “Keep moving.” He waved the gun in her direction, and she staggered to her feet.
He was taking her back to where she’d buried her father all those years ago.
Before they’d fenced this area off, there had been a small access road that had cut through the sandy peaks. The Department of Natural Resources had torn up the asphalt and let the land take over. There was no sign of the road now.
She remembered the look on Frazer’s face when she’d told him about that awful day—betrayal, bitter disappointment. She’d let him down. Pretended to be something she wasn’t. Worse, she’d hurt him. So what if he didn’t show it? She knew the truth. He’d opened up to her, and she’d committed a cardinal sin—she’d interfered with his investigation.
She started climbing the next dune but stopped after a few feet and turned around, clutching her side as if she was hurting. If she ever got the chance she was going to tell Frazer she loved him. The emotion had snuck up on her, taken her by surprise, and he deserved to know that what she felt for him was real. He deserved to know he mattered, not just as an FBI agent, but as a man. It wouldn’t change the outcome—even if she lived through today, they had no chance of ever being a couple. But it would be closure. It would be the sort of brutal honesty Frazer could appreciate.
For now her only hope was to keep Seth talking. Make him forget she was supposed to be his next victim. “How did you know where to find the bodies, after all these years?”
“I staked a piece of wood near where I saw you digging that night, which was fine until that asshole Cromwell pulled it out a few years ago. Pastor gave me the idea of the metal detector with all the crazy treasure hunting he does. Knew more or less where to start.” He shrugged. “Didn’t take long.”
“Why? Why dig up that poor woman’s bracelet? Wasn’t it enough to kill her?”
It was almost full dark, but she saw the flash of teeth when he smiled. “A friend of mine needed a little help in prison, and I wanted to claim what was rightfully mine.”
Ferris Denker. Frazer’s revelations about the man’s crimes had shocked her. “She wasn’t yours,” she argued. “People aren’t defined by how they die.”
Seth moved closer. “She was mine when I put my hand around her throat and sent her to a better place.”
The absolute certainty in his voice made her feel ill.
They got to the place where she’d buried her father, and Seth let go of Barney’s leash. Thankfully the dog ran off to sniff grass. Run, Barney. Seth grabbed her shoulder and stuck the gun in her face before she could escape.
“I wish I could do the same to you, Izzy.” His fingers squeezed painfully into her flesh, as if he were imagining them around her neck. “You’d know exactly how to come back and tell me if they’re still there, waiting for me.”
“Why didn’t you just kill yourself?” she asked. He’d have done them all a favor.
He shook her roughly. “It’s a mortal sin.”
But serial rape and murder wasn’t? She didn’t say it. The guy wasn’t sane. Then she registered what he said. “Why can’t you do the same to me?” Not that she wanted that, but she wanted to know what the hell was going to happen to her.
His fingers squeezed harder, with bruising force. “It’s got to look like a suicide. Poor Izzy. Tells the Feds about the terrible things she’s done and can’t live with herself. I’ll be sure to comfort Kit for you.” His fingers started squeezing the trigger. Fuck. She used every ounce of force she could muster and hit him in the temple with her plastercast.
He went down hard, but he wasn’t unconscious. Izzy took off, dropping the shovel when it slowed her down. Running with battered ribs and a broken wrist was difficult enough. She heard a shot in the darkness, but ignored it. She wasn’t going to sit around while Seth staged her suicide. Asshole. There was another shot and a warm sensation on one side of her calf where a bullet skimmed her skin.
She dove right and kept running.
* * *
FRAZER HAD A reputation for being cool under pressure, but the truth was, unde
rneath the facade, he was a raving lunatic with fantastic acting skills.
They pulled up behind Isadora’s SUV. A pushbike was in the back.
Seth Grundy didn’t know they were onto him. Frazer called Tyson. “Dr. Campbell’s car is at Parson’s Point. I don’t think Grundy knows she’s activated her cell or that we’re actively looking for him yet. He knows Cromwell and Brubaker are both in the frame for the murders and probably figures that’ll keep us busy while he has time to slip away.”
“An officer found Mary Neville in the trunk of one of the cars at the garage. I have a horrible feeling she was there the whole time we were patting him on the back this morning. Getting his rocks off.”
“Dead?” Frazer asked.
“Not yet.”
Thank God for small mercies.
“I’ll tell all units to come in dark with sirens off.”
“Good. Me and Randall are going in now.”
“My guys are five minutes out. Wait for back up.”
Frazer cut the connection. No way was he waiting. “Ready?” he asked Randall.
The other agent nodded. “Let’s do it.”
They headed into the dunes, unable to use flashlights, because it would give away their presence, unable to hear any screams or conversation because of the howling wind. The sound of a gunshot did register, then another. Adrenaline raced through his bloodstream as he and Randall ran toward where it came from.
It was tough to see anything with the cloudy sky and no moon. “Go right,” he said to Randall as he split left. A minute later a dark shadow ahead made him slow down as he tried to figure out whether or not it was Grundy.
He shouted, “FBI, put the weapon on the ground, hands on your head.” But the shadow rabbited over the far side of the dune. Dammit.
Frazer leapt after the guy, approaching from the side. When he crested the top of the dune, a shot whizzed past his head. He threw himself to the ground, felt the horrifying snap as something went in his ankle. He rolled several times. Shit. His Achilles tendon had either torn or snapped. He heard another gunshot, and a grunt. Then he heard a woman scream, and his whole body froze. He tried to take a step, but he couldn’t push off on his right foot.
This was not happening. He wasn’t about to lose the one woman in his life he’d truly come to care for—shit, love—because he’d injured his ankle. It was too soon to know if they’d have a future together, but he intended to make sure she lived long enough to get to make a choice.
He dropped to his hands and knees and started to crawl.
* * *
IZZY’S HEAD WHIPPED up when she heard Frazer’s voice snatched away on the blustery wind. She heard a shot and yelled out instinctively. Damn. Had they caught Seth? Was she safe? Or had Seth shot Frazer?
That thought had her pausing in her headlong flight. Where was everyone? She turned back toward where she’d last seen Seth, surreptitiously peering through the grass. Below her, a shadow moved and she froze, not knowing if it was Seth, or someone trying to help her.
She caught a glint of what looked like FBI initials on the back of a black jacket and opened her mouth to cry for help, only to feel strong fingers manacling her ankle and hauling her roughly down the slope. She screamed and kicked with her free leg, catching the gun and knocking it out of his hand. The connection hurt, but it was worth the pain.
Seth swore, but rather than searching for the weapon, he threw himself down on top of her, jamming her cast against her battered ribs, causing so much pain she almost blacked out. He clamped one hand over her mouth to silence her, and the other squeezed her throat, cutting off her air.
Oh, God. She panicked, bucking and flailing beneath him. She could feel his arousal against her stomach and had enough presence of mind to be grateful he wasn’t raping her.
“Do you see it, Izzy?” Seth whispered urgently in her ear.
She gave a nod, and he paused as if shocked, easing the pressure on her throat enough for her to draw in a tiny breath.
“What? What do you see?” His hot breath brushed her cheek and turned her stomach.
He ground his dick against her, and it made her want to throw up, but he was obviously obsessed with near-death experiences so she made something up.
“There’s a woman, and she’s beckoning me.” It seemed to be what he needed to hear. “I feel as if I know her.”
He pressed his fingers tighter around her throat again, dry humping her, because apparently this stuff got the guy off. “Tell her to wait for me, Izzy.”
“Tell her yourself, asshole,” came a voice from the sidelines. Frazer tackled Seth and took him flying down the dune, sand cascading around them as both men rolled on the ground.
Her gun. Izzy scrambled through the sand, hands searching as she sucked in oxygen and prayed her vision would realign sooner rather than later. Her fingers hit pay dirt, and she snatched up her Glock. Don’t let the firing mechanism be clogged.
She tried to scream for help but nothing came out except a gravelly croak. She went down the steep side of the dune on her backside. Then she hesitated as one of the shadows leaned over the other and punched whoever was on the ground over and over in the face—just like Seth had done to Duncan Cromwell that morning.
“Stop.” The word shuddered out of her mouth. Was it Frazer being beaten? Her finger eased onto the trigger, but she was unable to see clearly in the darkness. “Stop!”
“It’s okay. It’s me.”
Frazer stood and stumbled toward her, and she realized he was okay. It was Seth knocked out cold. She ran toward Frazer. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but he got out his cuffs.
She froze.
He gave her a tired-sounding laugh. “Help me get him on his stomach so we can secure and arrest him.”
She approached Seth with caution, and noticed Frazer was limping heavily. “What’s wrong with your leg?”
“You hold the pistol on him, and I’ll turn him over. Shoot him if he tries to escape, okay?”
She nodded, awed at the trust he was placing in her. Frazer rolled the unconscious man onto his front and then grabbed both wrists behind his back. The ratchet of metal against metal was the best sound she’d ever heard. Then the next best thing filtered through the night. The sound of other officers arriving, and Lucas Randall rushing toward them.
“Are you all right?” Randall asked.
“We are now. But we both need to go to the hospital.” Frazer removed her Glock from her numb fingers and put it in his pocket. Took her good hand and kissed her knuckles. His were dark with blood.
She grabbed him when he collapsed to the ground. Her hands raced over him, looking for wounds.
He caught her hand, kissed it again. “I think I tore my Achilles. I feel like a lame frickin’ idiot.”
Izzy winced.
He handed her his flashlight. She gave his ankle a cursory examination to test the range of motion and make sure there was no bleeding, or obvious broken bones. There wasn’t.
“Seth said he had Kit.”
Frazer brushed her hair off her forehead. “Kit’s fine.” She opened her mouth to ask another question, but he preempted her. “Mary Neville is in the hospital.” He dragged her close to his chest. “Come here.” And kissed her full on the mouth.
She sank deep into it, unable to believe he was here, that he’d helped save her life, and he didn’t hate her. The way he kissed her was both reverent and domineering, and a total turn-on despite the circumstances—until her beautiful retriever joined in.
She hugged Barney against her face, absorbing the silky softness of his coat. She kissed him, too. “I’m so glad you’re okay, boy.”
“This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?” Frazer spoke sternly to her dog and got a wet lick on the lips for his trouble. He laughed, and that’s when Izzy knew how completely she had fallen in love with this guy. “I know I was angry earlier. I was furious with you for holding back information so important to the case. Mad as hell you hadn’t truste
d me enough to confide, which was stupid because why would you? As soon as I realized you were in danger it didn’t seem to matter anymore.” He kissed the corner of her lips. “I want a real relationship with you, Isadora Campbell. I’m done with this half measure shit.”
She drew back, blinking away the emotion that wanted to overwhelm her. “You know that won’t be possible.” She kissed him anyway because soon she’d have to tell everyone the truth about what she’d done, and she didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want this to end.
His arm wrapped around her, and she leaned against him as Randall orchestrated the arrest of a man she’d known almost her entire life.
“Don’t tell them,” Frazer whispered in her ear.
She closed her eyes. It was so tempting. “I have to.”
His voice got lower. “I once shot a man like Seth Grundy in cold blood because he could have brought down the entire BAU. Should I turn myself in?”
Izzy looked at him open-mouthed, surprised he’d confessed that to her. Surprised he trusted her that much. She touched his stubbled jaw. “No, you shouldn’t. People like that aren’t like the rest of us. If you killed him, he deserved to die.”
Something in his eyes changed. Relaxed a fraction.
“But I’ve lived with this secret so long, I think it will destroy me if I don’t tell the truth now.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I still want a relationship with you.”
She pulled away and shook her head. “It could damage your career. I might not be allowed to practice medicine—”
“I don’t care.”
The stark simplicity of his words made her want to believe him. “I’m also the guardian of a seventeen-year-old girl,” she reminded him.
“Who is going to love Virginia.”
She blinked at him. Touched his forehead. “Do you have a head injury?”
“Ha.” He caught her hand and had a very serious expression on his face when he answered. “I’ve been fighting monsters since my parents died, Izzy.” She swallowed as he finally called her that. Like he’d stopped holding her at arm’s length. “But the one thing I never let myself search for was a way of moving on. I guess I figured if I kept hold of the anger and the pain I’d always have them with me. But I’m tired of doing nothing but hunt killers. I’m tired of being lonely. I want what they had. I think we might have a shot of that. What do you think?”
Cold Fear Page 32