Hunted

by Cynthia Eden

  * * *

  “CASEY! CASEY QUINN!”

  She turned at the shout. She’d just finished her first segment. Tom was a few feet away, Katrina was filming and her guards—they sure tensed fast at that yell.

  A man with sun-streaked hair jogged toward her. He was waving.

  Her guards immediately moved to intercept him.

  “Hey, no, wait! I’m a witness! I think Casey wants to talk with me!”

  “A witness?” Tom’s brows shot up. “Let the guy through.”

  The two guards hesitated. Especially Drew. He looked seriously unhappy, but he finally stepped back.

  And Casey got a good look at the guy approaching her. He had a tribal tattoo around his upper arm. A golden tan was on his body and he wore a T-shirt with Chaz’s Rentals on the front.

  “Just talked to the FBI.” His chest puffed out. “Thought you might want to talk to me, too.”

  He was the boat rental manager. Right.

  “Chaz Fontel,” he said, offering her his hand. “I’m a big fan, Casey.”

  Her fingers curled around his. She looked down and saw his wrist—a strong wrist. Tanned.

  For an instant, she was back in that cabin, tied up, and her attacker’s glove had come down just enough for her to see his wrist...

  “I’m so sorry you were hurt.”

  Her gaze slid back up to his face. Sympathy was there but...his eyes seemed a little too bright. He’s excited. Excited because he’d been working with the FBI? Because he thought he was helping to crack the case or—

  “They’re looking for bodies.” His voice was a whisper. Chaz still hadn’t let go of her hand. “More women, lost beneath the waves.” He was still holding her hand. “Such a crying shame. For something so beautiful...to just become a grave.”

  A chill skated down her spine. She pulled her hand away from Chaz and backed up a step. Her shoulder bumped into Drew’s. Immediately, he was pushing her behind him and putting himself between her and Chaz.

  “Hold on!” Tom’s voice called out. “I think we need to hear more from Mr. Fontel.”

  Chaz glanced at him, frowning. “What do you want to hear?”

  Tom smiled at him. He motioned for Katrina to get her camera filming. “Everything.”

  Chapter Eleven

  He hit pay dirt at the second dive site. Josh saw the bag, a big, thick, black bag that had been weighed down and tossed into the water. It had sunk to the bottom, hit the sand and stayed trapped there.

  It was a large bag—easily big enough to cover a body. And it was long—bulky with its contents.

  He didn’t want a woman to be in that bag.

  His team worked as bubbles drifted up from their tanks. They were trying to protect the evidence, not destroy anything. The bag was heavy—so heavy that a victim could be inside. His thoughts stayed dark as they worked.

  He was too used to finding the dead.

  It took time, but Josh and his crew got the bag back to the boat. Water streamed from it as they set the bag on the deck. Josh dropped his equipment. He stored his tank.

  Then the team gathered around that bag.

  Josh exhaled as he pulled out his dive knife. He cut through the hemp rope that bound the top of the bag, and the bag opened. He reached inside and—

  His fingers touched something soft.

  Damn it.

  * * *

  CASEY WAS WAITING at the station when Josh came back with his team. Her guards were with her—they’d stayed close all day long. And when she saw Josh’s team head to the back of the station, she knew something big had happened.

  “Did they find another body?” Katrina whispered. “Is that what happened?”

  There was only one way to find out. Other reporters were at the front of the station. She’d been staying out of their line of sight. She’d given a few other interviews during the day—enough to make most of those reporters happy, but she hadn’t wanted to tempt fate by staying right in the mix with them.

  “Did someone die in your place?” Katrina asked.

  And Casey was chilled to the bone.

  * * *

  KURT ANDERSON HADN’T been released from custody. He was still at the station, only now his lawyer, Sarah Hastings, was at his side.

  “My client has been held here entirely too long,” she began as soon as Tucker and Josh stepped into the little conference room. The sheriff was already in there, his shoulders against the wall on the right. “He was brought in under a charge of boating under the influence but—”

  “We found your bag,” Josh cut in.

  The woman frowned. “Bag? What bag?” Then she waved a hand dismissively. “You have no idea that anything you may have found is linked to my client in any—”

  Josh pulled out an evidence bag and placed it on the table right in front of Kurt. “Does that look familiar to you?”

  Kurt’s shoulders hunched. A pink bear was in that plastic bag...a bear that was still soaking wet.

  “Because we found that bear—and dolls and toys and clothes—at the bottom of the Gulf.”

  Kurt reached for the bag, but Tucker scooped it up before he could touch it.

  “You’re not supposed to have it,” Kurt whispered. “I was giving it back to her.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Do you know...he kept everything...?”

  “Stop taking, Kurt,” his lawyer advised him sharply. “Stop.”

  But he just shook his head. “Her room was like a shrine. Her books were on her desk, and her clothes still hung in her closet. Stuffed animals—the ones she’d had when she was four and five—they were still in her closet. He kept everything, like it all mattered. Like she mattered. When all that time, he’d been the one to kill her.”

  Sarah shot to her feet. “All my client did was dispose of items that were no longer wanted at his home. So there could be an illegal dumping charge, but given the situation—”

  “After his arrest, the cops and Feds took some stuff from Christy’s rooms, but I didn’t know what to do with the rest of her things. Christy always loved the water, so I took it all out there.” He was staring at his fisted hands. “I let it sink. I told her goodbye.”

  Sarah’s hand curled around his shoulder. “You don’t need to answer any of their questions. They’re just trying to trip you up. They’re trying to pin murders on you, and you haven’t done anything wrong.” Her eyes glinted. “My client is grief stricken. He is trying to get through each day the best way that he can. So, yes, maybe he had too much to drink. That’s on him. But he hasn’t hurt anyone. He isn’t his father, and this interview? It’s over.” She nodded once, decisively. “So either charge my client with something other than boating under the influence—or this illegal dumping joke—or let him walk. Because I think he’s been through more than enough.”

  They didn’t have any evidence to tie him to the murders. And the way the guy was shaking, the way he’d gone solid white when he saw that little stuffed animal, Josh wasn’t so sure that Kurt was the killer they were after.

  Kurt’s father had killed his own daughter. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he wanted to destroy his son’s life, too. And a false allegation had been all it took to put Kurt under the microscope.

  “He can go,” Hayden said. “But...don’t leave town, Kurt, okay? There will be more questions.”

  Not that there could be more questions. Just that there will be more.

  Sarah kept her arm around Kurt as they headed out of the room. She was whispering to him, her voice oddly soothing. Her pose with him was almost...intimate.

  The door closed quietly behind them.

  “I don’t want it to be him,” Hayden said quietly. He raked a hand over his face. “I knew him when we were kids. The things his fathe
r did...the things he tried to do to my Jill—I hate Theodore Anderson for that. But I don’t want Kurt to be like him.”

  “Maybe he isn’t,” Tucker said. “But I still want to have eyes on him. Let’s keep a tail behind the guy just so we know his movements.”

  Hayden nodded. “Already done. I gave the order right before I came in for this little sit-down.”

  Josh paced around the room. “If it’s not Kurt Anderson, then we’re back to square one. We need to take another look at our perp...”

  “Male, Caucasian, fit,” Tucker began as he ticked off the points they knew. “I’d say we’re looking for an individual between twenty-five and thirty-five. He knows the area, and he knows his victims. By picking individuals who are all survivors, he’s showing that he’s done research on them. They aren’t random. He’s proving a point—”

  “That no one can survive what he’s done.”

  Tucker nodded. “Exactly. When Casey escaped, I wondered if the killer would immediately get another victim. Or if—”

  “If he’d come after Casey again.” Josh’s body had tensed.

  “But he didn’t come after her,” Hayden said. “And he hasn’t taken anyone else, either.”

  He hasn’t come after her yet. Josh wished Casey was still with him. He needed her close so that he could be sure she was safe.

  He just... He wanted her close.

  “Casey stabbed him,” Hayden continued, his brows pulling low. “Is it possible that she stabbed him so deeply that the guy is still recovering? Is that why we haven’t seen any action from him? Hell, maybe she even killed him.”

  “Not enough blood at the scene for that.” Tucker had crossed his arms over his chest. “And I have the FBI techs doing a rush job on the blood we recovered from the knife she had. They’re comparing it to the blood we took from the knife we found on Kurt’s boat.”

  “If it’s a match, we bring the guy right back in.” Josh knew those tests took time, but he wanted the results yesterday. “Another reason to keep a guard on him. Until we know for sure, one way or another about the blood, he stays at the top of our suspect list.” Josh considered what else they knew about the killer. “Our perp is organized. Meticulous. Such a careful planner. Maybe he is intending to go after Casey again, but he has to wait. He has to pick his moment.” Even as he spoke, his gut was clenching. “We had her in the penthouse, with top-of-the-line security. It could be that he just couldn’t get to her there.”

  “She’s not at the penthouse any longer,” Hayden pointed out. His gaze was on Josh. “She’s out in the open. That producer of hers had Casey filming for most of the day. Everyone could see her.”

  Josh’s jaw hardened.

  “She had guards with her. One of them, I recognized. Drew Pitch. He’s an ex-Ranger. Hard-as-nails kind of guy. He’ll keep an eye on her.”

  It wouldn’t be the same, though, with Josh not being near her. Not watching out for her himself. “I’m going to talk to her.” Just to make sure that nothing had happened that day that jarred her. Nothing that set off her suspicions. Letting her just walk away after what happened—yes, the FBI brass had said they couldn’t force her to stay in protective custody, but Josh couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just bait out in the open.

  Tom Warren loved his flashy headlines. Would he use Casey, trying to attract a killer? To get the story of a lifetime?

  Not on my watch.

  * * *

  “LOOK, THERE’S KURT ANDERSON!” Katrina called. “He’s walking out of the station—that means they didn’t have enough to charge him, right? I’ve got to get the footage.” She rushed across the street.

  Other reporters and cameramen had already closed in. Casey didn’t move.

  “Don’t you want the story?” Tom asked her as he slid closer. He’d been doing that all day—getting too close. Touching her shoulder. Her arm. Hovering. Pressing. Smothering.

  “Anderson isn’t going to say anything right now. The woman with him—that’s Sarah Hastings. She’s his lawyer.” Because Casey had met the woman when she’d first talked to Kurt. Their meeting had been set up—and moderated—by Sarah. “She’s protective of him.” Maybe even in love with him, judging by the way Casey had seen the other woman stare at Kurt. “She won’t let anyone push her client right now.”

  Tom moved in front of her, blocking her view of the crowd. “You’re coming back home with me.”

  “Excuse me?” Her brows rose. Her guards were just a few feet away.

  “I’ve rented a house on the beach—there are plenty of rooms. It has great security. The guards will be close in case you need anything. If the perp comes for you, we’ll all be ready.”

  If the perp comes... There was just something about the way he said those words. “Do you want him to come?”

  His lips parted. “What? No, Casey, I want you safe.” His hands curled around her shoulders. “You matter to me. Don’t you realize how much?” His voice softened. “Maybe I didn’t even realize how much, not until I heard that you’d been taken. Priorities—they have a way of becoming crystal clear in moments of danger. You think you have all the time in the world, and then—bam. You realize you could lose the thing that matters most.”

  Oh, no. This wasn’t happening. “Tom...you’re my boss.”

  “I could be more.”

  I don’t want more. “I don’t cross that line. I won’t cross it.” She didn’t want him—had never been attracted to him that way. He could use his easy smiles on other women. They weren’t for her. He wasn’t for her.

  She much preferred a man who moved with lethal grace, who gazed at her as if she were the only woman in any room. As if—

  “Am I interrupting something?” Josh’s voice. Low, drawling.

  Angry?

  Tom jerked back and his hands fell away from her body as he looked back to find Josh behind him. “Agent Duvane! I just—I didn’t realize you were there.”

  Casey hadn’t realized he was there, either. The guy was far too good at sneaking up on people.

  “It’s getting late,” Josh said, inclining his head toward the setting sun. “Don’t you think Casey should be off the streets?”

  “I was just about to take her home,” Tom replied stiffly. “But thanks for your concern, Agent—”

  “An arrest hasn’t been made. Anderson left with his lawyer.”

  “Yes.” Tom’s jaw was clenched. “We saw that.”

  “The FBI still has the penthouse, Casey. Your guards—” Josh motioned to the men near her. “They can watch you during the day. But you’re welcome to continue staying at the safe house during the night. You know it’s a secure location.”

  “She’s coming with—” Tom began.

  “I want to go back to the crime scene,” Casey blurted.

  Josh blinked. “What?”

  “I didn’t get to go back this morning, like we planned.” She stepped closer to him, brushing past Tom. “We still have a little bit of daylight left. Will you take me back there now?” She’d remembered something at the hotel. Maybe she’d remember at the beach house, too. A tiny lead could make a big difference.

  “Yeah, I’ll take you.” Josh’s hand reached out and curled around hers and his touch just felt right. Warm. Strong. Safe.

  “Casey!” Tom blustered. “I don’t know—”

  She turned her head to look at him and his words stopped. “You want the story, right? Agent Duvane can get me access to the crime scene. You can’t. I’m going back. I’m doing this my way.” Her gaze slid to the two guards. “Drew and Shamus, thank you for your help today. I won’t be needing your services for the night, though. The night is covered.” She wasn’t staying at Tom’s place. She was staying at the penthouse.

  With Josh.

  Tom’s eyes narrowed. “That’s yo
ur choice.”

  “Yes, it is. And we’d better hurry before that sun is gone.” She didn’t want to be at the scene after dusk.

  She followed Josh back to the parking lot behind the station. Katrina saw her, frowned, but didn’t speak. A few moments later, Josh was handing her a helmet.

  Back to the motorcycle?

  She didn’t protest this time. Casey put the helmet on her head. She slid onto the bike behind Josh and she held on tight.

  He revved the engine, but he didn’t pull away. His body was tense, his muscles hard, and she heard him say, “I missed you today.”

  Casey smiled. In the midst of everything bad happening, he’d just made her feel good. “I missed you, too.” She didn’t know what that meant—for their future. For them. But...

  It meant something.

  The motorcycle roared away.

  * * *

  “SO...” DREW SAID as he raised his brows. “That mean we’re done for the night?”

  Tom had his hands on his hips as he stared after the motorcycle. “Yes, you’re done. Both of you.” Because he wouldn’t be needing their services.

  Shamus slapped his hand on Drew’s shoulders. “Let’s go get a drink, buddy.”

  Drew hesitated a moment, his gaze on Tom’s face. “You sure she’s good?”

  “She’s with an FBI agent,” Katrina announced as she strode toward them. “How much better can she get?”

  Drew nodded and headed off with Shamus. Tom kept staring after the motorcycle.

  “Tom?” Katrina prodded. “You okay?”

  “This is my story.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Casey doesn’t get that.” He shook his head. “Why doesn’t she get that?”