Winter's Storm

by Mary Stone

  He spotted a sign for a twenty-four-hour chain restaurant. As the truck changed lanes behind him, he made up his mind. Rather than try to outmaneuver the other driver on his trip out of town, Will would rip off the band-aid and confront the stalker.

  Confront Jaime.

  No, not confront. Talk to him, share his reasonings, make him understand.

  Jackson Fisher’s dead eyes flashed through Will’s mind, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

  Yes, he was afraid, but he needed to get this over with. Waiting would only surely make things that much worse.

  With one last look at the truck, he eased his foot down on the brake pedal as he turned into a pothole-filled parking lot. As he swung the car into a vacant space, his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with sawdust, and he could hear little over the rapid cadence of his pulse.

  He caught a glimpse of white in the corner of his eye as the other driver pulled in three spots away from his. Though he made sure to keep his head turned in the direction of the restaurant, Will watched the truck in his peripheral vision.

  Each passing second lasted longer than the one before as he searched desperately for a flicker of movement.

  When a middle-aged woman rounded the corner of the brick building, he couldn’t keep himself from jerking his head to peer out the driver’s side window. A tall man clad in a gray peacoat and dark jeans hopped out of the truck to meet the newcomer at the edge of the sidewalk.

  As the man held out his arms to offer the woman a warm embrace, all the bluster and tension dissipated from Will’s tired muscles.

  He was so relieved that he didn’t even bother to question why he was relieved.

  For what was far from the last time, he reminded himself that he was laying low so he could rest. So he could gather his thoughts.

  Jaime would understand.

  24

  As Aiden made his way down the hall to the Cyber Crimes Division, he fully expected the visit to be a formality. Since he wound up staying at the office late more often than not, he’d made a point to swing by Cyber Crimes every other night to check on Ryan O’Connelly and Agent Welford’s progress in their digital investigation. Though Ryan had recently adopted a new tactic to search the dark web for the person who had posted Tyler Haldane and Kent Strickland’s manifesto, Aiden purposefully tamped down his expectations.

  So far, their two-and-a-half-month-long search had been more akin to searching for a needle in a haystack than a true investigation. Investigations usually had suspects, and right now, they were sorely lacking in that area.

  Multi-colored lights twinkled on a four-foot Christmas tree in the corner of the cluster of cubicles. More lights were strung along the top of the partitions that separated each desk from its neighbors. Apparently, the agents in Cyber Crimes were more festive than their counterparts downstairs in Violent Crimes.

  Those who knew Aiden might not have guessed, but he was a proponent of festive office décor. Their job was stressful enough to require a mandatory retirement age of fifty-seven, so if they could brighten the atmosphere even a little, everyone benefitted.

  Not that he’d be caught dead stringing up garland in his office. He had an image to maintain.

  The drone of two familiar voices grew clearer as he approached the door to a small conference room. Though the door was open a crack, Aiden still raised his hand to rap his knuckles against the metal frame.

  Ava Welford’s clear blue eyes snapped over to the doorway, and Ryan O’Connelly’s gaze followed suit.

  With a slight smile, Agent Welford straightened in her chair. “SSA Parrish, how are you doing tonight?”

  As he eased open the glass and metal door, Aiden lifted a shoulder. “I’m doing fine. I was about to head out for the night, so I thought I’d stop by to see how your day went up here in Cyber Crimes.”

  When a tall figure emerged from a shadowy corner of the room, Aiden was surprised to recognize Bobby Weyrick. The man’s eyes were bright and alert, his dark blond hair fashionably styled, and his black suit and tie as neatly pressed as ever.

  Easing the door closed behind himself, Aiden cleared his throat. “Agent Weyrick, I didn’t expect to see you here. What brings you up to Cyber Crimes?”

  The man shrugged slightly in response. “Same thing as you, I’d imagine. Ryan and Agent Welford think they’re onto a new lead.”

  Admittedly, those were five words Aiden hadn’t expected to hear. “A new lead?” He glanced to where Agent Welford and O’Connelly sat at a circular table. “When did you find it?”

  Agent Welford gestured to an empty chair across from her. “It’s brand-new, actually. We were about to plead with Agent Weyrick to get us some coffee since we’ll probably be here pretty late tonight.”

  Aiden accepted the offered seat as Agent Weyrick returned to the squat chair in the corner. Folding his hands on top of the polished table, he glanced to Agent Welford and then the criminal gone good. “What have you got so far?”

  As he scooted forward, O’Connelly rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. “Remember how I was telling you about the dark web the other day? About how someone who posts something on the dark web has to have a good understanding of how all that tech works, especially since they didn’t make their post on the surface web at all?”

  Excitement caused Aiden’s heart to speed up a couple beats, although he strove to maintain a calm demeanor. “And you were going to try to look into some other forums to see what you could find. I remember. Did you get something?”

  O’Connelly tapped an index finger against his closed laptop as he nodded. “As a matter of fact, we did. While I was doing that, Agent Welford was looking into figuring out who hacked into the databases to get the identities of the people who were at the Riverside Mall.” As O’Connelly turned his attention to Ava Welford, Aiden followed suit.

  “I’ll spare you all the boring details.” Agent Welford brushed a piece of dark hair over her shoulder. “But we noticed some similarities to a ring of credit card thefts that Ryan found while he was looking into the Haldane Strickland manifesto. We’re still pinning down everything that links these incidents together, but from where we’re standing right now, I think whoever committed those thefts is the same person who broke into the databases that got them all the information about the victims from the Riverside Mall.”

  If Aiden hadn’t been fully alert before, he was now. “And you think that’s the same person who uploaded the manifesto?”

  The good humor vanished from Ava Welford’s face as she nodded. “There are enough similarities that we think so, yes. We’re about to do a deep dive of the links between the three incidents. Once we’ve had a chance to do that, we should know more.”

  Bobby Weyrick raised a hand. “Didn’t you say that there was a suspect for the credit card thefts?”

  Agent Welford pursed her lips. “Yes, we had a suspect. But at the time, we didn’t have enough to make any charges stick.”

  Before she finished, Aiden was already shaking his head. “We don’t need to worry about making those charges stick. Right now, we just need a solid lead. If we’ve got enough to point the investigation in this guy’s direction, we can find the evidence we need.”

  Aiden half-expected a caveat to the groundbreaking discovery, but instead, Agent Welford merely nodded her agreement. “That’s our goal right now. We want to give you a thread to start pulling.”

  Crossing both arms over his chest, Aiden leaned back in his seat. “Well, I don’t have anything to do tonight. While you look through those links, could you send me the file for your stolen credit card case?”

  With a nod, Agent Welford pushed open her laptop. “Of course. I’ll email you the details for it so you can dig up anything you need before you head out.”

  Even as Aiden’s mind took off with the possible implications of Agent Welford’s discovery, he pushed aside any lofty expectations. With so much at stake, he couldn’t afford to let himself become entangled in a
pipe dream.

  As Autumn had said earlier in the day, their suspect fit the criteria for a specific profile. In the entirety of Aiden’s FBI career, he could only recall a handful of profiles that were as particular as what they’d created for their current suspect. If the man didn’t meet one of their criteria, the likelihood that he was truly their suspect dropped significantly.

  So, they’d found a potential suspect, but the real puzzle had only just begun.

  25

  Noah had to exert a great deal of self-control to haul himself out of bed that morning. The temperature had dropped to nineteen degrees, and he’d let his truck warm up for over ten minutes. All the while, he’d cursed himself for skipping out on the optional heated seats.

  To compensate for the lack of warmth, he had made the executive decision to swing by the drive-thru of a coffee shop on their way into the office. If he was cold, then he knew for certain that Winter had to be freezing. She sat like a stone beside him, her hands tucked between her thighs for warmth. He vowed to get an automatic started installed in his truck. Couldn’t let the woman he loved be uncomfortable.

  Which was a funny thought, considering Winter Black was the woman he thought of. Winter Black, who witnessed the aftermath of her parents’ violent murders. The Winter Black who lay in a coma and came out with visions and headaches bad enough to make her nose bleed.

  Winter had been uncomfortable most of her life, which made him even more determined to keep her safe and comfortable anytime she was at his side. If he could.

  He didn’t know if there was a damn thing he would be able to do to keep her emotionally safe once they found her baby brother.

  Thoughts still maudlin as they stepped off the elevator, Noah glanced to his side. In light of the cold, Winter had gone through the painstaking task of blowing her hair dry. The blow-dryer wasn’t even hers—it was his. An ex-girlfriend from years back had left the device at his apartment, and after they split, he hadn’t bothered to toss it. Occasionally, the blow-dryer had come in handy to dry his coat or shoes after an unexpected downpour.

  Winter had warned him that, without any product, a blow-drying made her hair staticky and fluffy to the point of comical. Before she’d fashioned the strands into her customary braid, she had tossed her fluffed-up hair back and forth, asking him whether or not he thought the style was suitable for an ‘80s hair band. Considering her disdain for the glammed-out rock groups from the 1980s, the remark had struck him as particularly funny.

  Before they rounded the corner to the Violent Crimes Division, Noah bit down on his tongue to stave off a fit of laughter at the memory. When Winter’s blue eyes snapped over to him, he knew he had failed.

  She lifted a dark eyebrow. “What? What’s funny?”

  It took everything inside him not to reach for her, pull her against him. Hold her in this playful moment that would be turning serious soon enough. “Nothing.” He went to tuck a piece of loose hair behind her ear and gave them both an electrical shock for his trouble. That made him laugh, as Winter clamped a hand over her ear, her mouth a perfectly surprised “o.” Damn how he wanted to kiss her, but this wasn’t the time or the place. “I was just thinking of your hair this morning, electric girl.”

  Winter flipped her braid over her shoulder, her lips parting in a playful grin. At the beginning of the year, such an expression of mirth was rarely seen on her pretty face. As they had tracked down Douglas Kilroy, her demeanor had become standoffish and even hostile. But even though her smiles were more common now, the expressions still gave him a rush of contentment.

  Before Winter could reply to his comment, they turned their attention to a flicker of movement. Though Bree Stafford’s movements were graceful, her sudden appearance on the other side of the cubicle partition reminded Noah of a groundhog or a prairie dog.

  The corners of Bree’s eyes creased as she offered them a smile. “Morning, guys. It looks like I’m not the only one who rolled out of bed a little late, huh?”

  On any given day during a high-stakes investigation, the air in the FBI field office was tense, even stifling. But whether it was due to the lingering effect of Winter’s early morning joke or the upcoming holiday, the atmosphere was different today.

  Winter had recently relocated her workspace to sit between Bobby Weyrick and Bree. Her and Noah’s desks had been beside one another for months, but in light of their relationship, they had both agreed that the move was the best choice to maintain an air of professionalism.

  As Noah approached his desk on the other side of Bree’s, he shrugged out of his coat. “I’ll be honest. If we didn’t have a briefing scheduled for this morning, I would have seriously considered coming in a couple hours late. It’s too damn cold out there.”

  Bree’s laugh was light and melodious. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  After he picked up his coffee, Noah made his way to the end of the row of cubicles and waited for the two women, plastering a smile he didn’t feel on his face. As he looked at Winter and thought of the eerie message she’d received, he wanted to pick her up and take her home.

  Take her to safety.

  For some reason he couldn’t completely understand, dread curled and writhed like a living thing in his belly as they walked into the conference room for the briefing.

  She wasn’t safe.

  He knew it. Hell, he thought she knew it too.

  He just needed to watch. Wait. Protect her from the evil that had set its eyes on her.

  Protect her from her own brother?

  Maybe. Probably. Most likely.

  And if he was forced to kill Justin Black to save Winter, he would. He just didn’t know if she would ever forgive him if he did.

  26

  Only a few hours before, Winter had been filled with excitement as the team had been briefed on what could be a significant find. Cyber Crimes had been chasing the tail of a hacker they thought might be the hacker. Now, they needed to find the real man, not just his digital thumbprint.

  “Phil Rossway, where are you,” Winter murmured as she backed the car down the gentle slope of a driveway, swallowing the sigh she felt building in her throat. The neighborhood around them wasn’t upscale, but the houses were lovingly maintained, and the air was quiet. Though she’d half-expected Phil Rossway’s mother to be obstinate—much like Tyler Haldane’s mother—Lydia Rossway had been cooperative and accommodating.

  But even though she’d been kind enough to offer Winter and Miguel each a homemade cup of espresso, she had been little help.

  Winter glanced up and down the road before she pulled onto the street. “What kind of kid lives in the same city as his mom, but doesn’t physically visit her for over a year?”

  Miguel’s dark eyes snapped to her. “I don’t know. If I tried to do that, my mom would kick down my door just so she could make sure I was eating enough.”

  Chuckling quietly, Winter shifted the car into drive. She couldn’t imagine going an entire year without seeing Gramma Beth or Grampa Jack. And she felt sure she’d feel the same had her parents been able to live.

  Then again, if she’d fallen in with a crowd that worshipped scumbags like Tyler Haldane and Kent Strickland, maybe she would be too ashamed of herself to show her face.

  The late morning sun caught the screen of Miguel’s phone as he tapped the unlock code, making her squint against the glare going straight into her eyes. “It didn’t sound like there was any bad blood between them, either. Lydia and her husband have been divorced for more than a decade, but it doesn’t sound like the split was bitter.”

  Winter eased her foot down on the brake as they approached a stop sign. “She said they kept in touch with one another, just not as much after Phil turned eighteen. Any word on where Kevin Rossway has been?”

  Miguel tapped at his phone, scrolling through his messages before tossing it into the cupholder. “Nothing yet.”

  Although Lydia and her ex-husband, Kevin, kept in contact with one another, Lydia hadn’t heard
from the man in close to three months. She assured Winter and Miguel that the lack of communication was far from abnormal, but there was something about the radio silence that didn’t sit well in Winter’s gut.

  Kevin Rossway lived just outside the Richmond city limits, but so far today, no one had been able to locate the man. Noah and Bree had visited his house earlier that morning, but no one had been home. Of course, the man was a long-haul truck driver, so extended absences weren’t unusual. What was unusual, however, was the fact that his employer had confirmed he wasn’t on the road for work.

  Had he just taken a side job for a little extra cash during the holiday season, or was there a more sinister reason for his absence? Did Kevin Rossway’s sudden absence have to do with his son’s inoculation into the cult of Kent Strickland and Tyler Haldane? Had the man discovered a darker part of his son’s life only to be killed for the knowledge? Or, was he part of the plan?

  As Aiden had told them in the morning briefing, the suspect after whom they sought was far from a normal fanatic. Whoever was involved in the murders of the Riverside Mall victims was charismatic, intelligent, and ruthless. But at the same time, they were a chameleon. Like Dennis Rader or a handful of other infamous serial killers, this murdering bastard blended into his or her surroundings.

  His. It was definitely a he, she told herself with little doubt.

  As she signaled her turn to an interstate on-ramp, Winter cast a quick glance to Miguel. “What do you think so far? About Phil Rossway being our suspect?”

  Scratching his chin, Miguel kept his thoughtful gaze fixed on the windshield. “His mom said he was a pretty good kid. He was quiet and he kept to himself, for the most part. He had a pretty small group of friends, and he was obsessed with electronics.”

  Winter checked the car’s blind spot before merging onto the interstate. “So, he’s a nerd?”