by Jordan Dane
“I didn’t know Nate, but I’ll take that as a compliment. He was a good man.”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
The simple truth was that I’d let Justine get too close to me. She seduced me and I’d let my guard down. I’d opened up to her in a way I never would have with people I should’ve trusted more. My gift had tried to help me, but I hadn’t seen it until I saw the rush of images played back from the moment I’d stepped on the island. My last vision had forced me deeper into the worsening nightmare of the whale—a dream symbol of the Native art I’d first seen in Justine’s living room.
My mind knew what I’d failed to see. The presence of death I sensed had been Justine from the start.
“All these questions, you’re trying to understand me, aren’t you? How pedestrian. I thought you accepted me as I am. I saw it on your face in the Cascades. You saw the beauty in my work. Why must you taint it all by trying to…explain what I do? Sometimes evil is just…evil. It exists in this world for the masses to appreciate the good. I’m only playing my part, Ryker.”
She stared at me from behind Ben as if she were seeing me for the first time.
“You don’t look surprised by any of this,” she said. “Why is that? What gave me away? I thought I’d been…clever.”
If there was a good time to filter what I thought and watch what I said, it should’ve been now, but I’d had enough of her ego.
“Even a clown can get away with murder, Justine. Ask John Wayne Gacy.”
The grin faded from her face.
“I’ve operated in the shadows and avoided the light,” she said. “Even when you came to me, you never truly saw me, but you’ve taught me something very special. I can fool anyone. You believed my lies like the others. Not even your psychic powers warned you. You let me sleep next to you, lover. I’m sure you think I’m damaged goods, yet I’m the one who knows how to survive…and I’ll keep doing it. All I have to do is get past you.”
Justine was done talking. She clutched the blade and cut into Ben’s neck enough for blood to trickle. She hid behind him like a coward. If I didn’t get a clear shot, she could cut his throat and he could still bleed out and die before I got help.
“I won’t say it again,” she said. “Put the gun down or Ben’s dead. You’ll be the reason, Ryker. Not me.”
I gripped the Glock with my finger on the trigger. Scenarios played out in my head—none of them good.
***
As she crept down the shadowy tunnel, Lucinda heard voices. She stuck to the shadows and inched toward the door, holding her breath as she peeked inside. Ryker held a gun aimed at a woman. She held a knife to a guy’s throat. What the hell? Her mind placed names on the players, the names she’d heard as she approached. She knew Ryker had taken a stand against Justine and Ben’s life was at risk.
Oh, God. Ryker and Ben were alive, but all that could change if she stepped into the room now. The tense standoff could blow up because of her. With her back to a wall, she wiped the sweat off her palms and gripped her Glock in both hands. She filled her lungs and blew out the air to steady her heart.
Lucinda had seconds to decide. She knew what she had to do. She had to be Ryker’s partner—and trust him.
***
Ryker Townsend
Justine had a knife. I had a gun. I should’ve had the advantage in theory, but Ben tipped the scale in her favor and she knew it.
“Aren’t you curious?” I asked.
“About what?”
“Nathan let me see his death. He let me feel everything. He did love you. He let me feel that, too.”
“Shut up. You’re lying.” She clutched Ben’s hair tighter and whispered in his ear. “Love is a lie. We come into this world alone and we leave the same way. Are you ready for your exit, Ben?”
Fresh tears trailed down Ben’s face. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know he’d lost all hope. None of that mattered to Justine.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll send a nice sympathy card to your mother. Something from the heart.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but stopped when movement caught my eye. I sensed a presence and I saw something move through shadows. I recognized the face and my mind raced with what I would do now. I needed something unexpected—where Justine thought she held all the cards—and I could turn her ego against her.
“I’m sure you think the Ketamine had something to do with my visions at the cabin, but Nate came to me, more than once, before you dosed me. You said I reminded you of him. I think there’s a reason for that. You feel him in me.”
“I’m not a psycho freak like you and I don’t do guilt, Golden Boy. Try again.”
“I don’t expect you to feel anything, Justine. You’d need a heart to do that. But I thought you should know, because Nathan is here now. He won’t leave me.”
I cocked my head.
“Can’t you feel him? Oh, God, I do. He’s…” I looked around the room and her eyes followed every move I made. “He’s…in me. Still here.”
Justine glared at me with laser focus. She had Ben in her grasp, but I knew she had her sights on me.
“I’m the one you want, Justine. Admit it.” I steadied my aim and peered at her over the top of my gun barrel. “Cut Ben loose and let him go. I’ll put down the gun and I’ll stay. If you want Nate, you’ll have to kill me.”
To a rational person, none of this would’ve made sense, but in the pit of her torture room, I gambled things would be different for Justine. She’d seen death many times. Anyone who imagined the souls of the dead leaving their bodies would have a singular take on my proposition.
As for me, my only thought had been for Ben. He’d suffered enough. I couldn’t watch him die in front of me. I hoped Justine’s ego would do the rest.
“That’s a stupid trade, lover. The minute I kill you, I’m on Ben’s scent. I’ll find him before he makes it out of the tunnel and I’ll drag him back here to finish the job. He’s not going home to his momma…except in pieces.”
“You hear that, Ben? She doesn’t think you know how to run. Prove her wrong.”
“But…you…” Ben’s lips trembled.
“Do it, buddy. I need you to walk out the door and don’t look back. Promise me. Do it for your mom.”
“Yeah, I p-promise.”
The second I lowered my gun and placed it on the floor, Justine grinned and edged the knife off Ben’s throat. In slow even measure, she cut Ben’s ropes and didn’t take her eyes off me. I braced my body, ready to grab the weapon if she changed her mind, but that didn’t happen. Ben slid off the metal table and nearly fell. In agonizing steps he hobbled to the stairs, naked and scarred. I felt his pain—his humiliation—and wanted to go with him, but Justine had the advantage.
She could beat me to him with the knife before I dropped for the gun. From the cocky amusement on her face, she knew it, too.
As Ben got to the door at the top of the stairs, he looked back one last time.
“You’re gonna see your mom, Ben. Trust me,” I said.
The kid smiled and faded into the shadows, leaving me alone with Justine.
“You want us.” I smiled. “Come and get us.”
Justine’s nostrils flared and she lunged at me with the knife. I braced my body—the only thing I could do.
***
Lucinda barely had time to grab Ben and pull him to safety. She heard boots on the ground behind her—Whitmire and his back up—but she couldn’t wait for the cavalry to arrive. She stepped into the room and took aim from the top of the stairs.
“FBI!” she yelled, but it was too late.
The trooper lashed out and struck Ryker in the chest with the knife. The sound of the full force blow sent goose bumps raging over Lucinda’s skin. She didn’t hesitate. She took aim and shot. The Glock bucked in her hands and the blast in the tight quarters made her ears ring. The trooper pitched forward, but she didn’t stop her attack.
Lucinda took aim aga
in and waited for a shot that wouldn’t kill Ryker. He grappled with Justine. Their bodies rolled across the floor with blood spreading over his chest. For a second, Lucinda saw Ryker look at her—her cue to shoot again. He shoved Justine off him and Lucinda had a clear target. She pulled the trigger.
The trooper’s head snapped back. Her skull cracked and chunks of bloody gristle and bone spattered over the plastic lining the floor. Justine dropped to the cement and hit hard. Lucinda tensed her body to take another shot. She knew the trooper was dead, but she fought the urge to empty her gun.
Lucinda shook off her revulsion when she saw Ryker. His chest heaved as he clutched at his knife wound. She rushed to him and dropped to her knees, putting pressure on his wound.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Ryker reached a bloody hand to hers and through a weak smile, he said, “I knew you’d come, Crowley.”
Lucinda fought back the tears. I knew you’d come. Ryker had trusted her to find him. How could he have been so sure?
“You’re safe now. It’s over, Ryker.”
She repeated those words and whispered only loudly enough for him to hear. The room filled with Whitmire’s men. Every word, every move, came and went in a blur. Lucinda couldn’t take her eyes off Ryker as she kept pressure on his wound.
“Stay with me,” she begged. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”
When Ryker’s eyes fluttered, Lucinda followed her gut and did something she never would have done otherwise. She cradled his head in her arms and lowered her lips to his. She kissed him as if she had every right. She wanted to remember the taste of his lips as she breathed him in. When she opened her eyes, she gazed down at his face.
Ryker stared at her and didn’t say a word. His shock didn’t last long. He closed his eyes and collapsed in her arms. If he died, Lucinda didn’t want him leaving this world without knowing how she felt. Her timing sucked, but she had no regrets.
Whitmire dropped to his knees and said things Lucinda barely heard. Hutch and Cam hugged her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Ryker until a trooper with med training needed room to tend to his chest wound.
“I’m going with him…to the hospital.” She said the words, but they sounded throaty and desperate—the voice of a stranger.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ketchikan General Hospital
Morning
It had been a long night. The sun had been up for hours, but overcast skies kept the sunshine masked behind a dark bank of clouds. Lucinda stared out a window into the steel gray gloom as she sat on a hard couch in a waiting room. People had come and gone. Everything had turned into a vague haze. Too much coffee. No sleep. All she could think about was Ryker Townsend.
Ryker and Ben Stevens had been rushed by helicopter to the nearest trauma hospital in Ketchikan. Rather than fretting over Ryker’s surgery and what the doctors were doing, Lucinda made use of her time on the phone. Early morning calls were usually not good news. If things hadn’t turned out as they did, the notifications she made would have been gut wrenching agony.
But Ryker and Ben had survived. She wanted to always remember days like this. Not all of her time with the FBI would be as good.
Her conversation with ViCAP Unit Chief Anne Reynolds had been a blur. Emotionally drained, she held it together and kept it professional, fighting the tremble in her voice. When she called the mother of Ben Stevens, she let the tears flow. Ben’s mom would never see her cry over the phone and she didn’t have a heart of granite. She was a blinker.
It felt good to let go.
“Oh my, God. Bless you. Sweet Jesus, thank you.” The woman had sobbed. “I didn’t think I’d ever see my baby boy again.”
“You raised a remarkable son, Mrs. Stevens.”
Lucinda wanted to always remember that phone call. It wasn’t everyday she got to tell a mother that her missing son—a young man kidnapped by a known and prolific serial killer—would be coming home. She’d told Ben’s mother what she could. Ryker wouldn’t have wanted his name mentioned, but Lucinda couldn’t help it. If Ryker hadn’t followed his hunch—and risked his own life—Ben would’ve died.
Now Mrs. Stevens sat aboard a plane. She’d arrive in an hour. Hutch and Cam would pick the woman up at the airport and take her to see her son. Fresh tears cooled Lucinda’s cheeks as she thought of the reunion Ben would have with his mother.
She wiped her face as a voice nudged her into reality.
“We’ve got Special Agent Townsend in room four-twenty.” A nurse had approached her and smiled. “He won’t wake up for a while, but you’re welcome to sit with him.”
Lucinda hadn’t seen the nurse walk up, but after hearing she’d see Ryker soon, she took a deep breath and let the good news wash over her. When she reached his private room, Ryker was asleep. A heart monitor beeped and a bag of fluid hung by his bed and dripped down a tube and into a vein in his arm. She stood over him and watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed. He was pale, but his face looked peaceful. She tried to picture him as a small boy. With him sleeping, that wasn’t hard.
Lucinda couldn’t look away. She was too afraid it was all a dream and if she blinked, her worst fears would’ve come true. She had to touch him. Lucinda reached out a hand and cupped his cheek, something she never would’ve done if she thought he’d feel her fingers on his skin. The minute she felt his warmth, she couldn’t hold back the emotions welling inside her.
Lucinda cried and didn’t think she would stop.
“Why did you antagonize her like that? She almost killed you.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You saw me outside the door, right? I know you saw me. That’s why you did it. You were only thinking of getting Ben out, because you knew I was there to back your play.”
Lucinda knew Ryker had seen her in the shadows of the tunnel outside the door after she’d dared to show her face. She’d taken the risk of stepping from the shadows because Ryker had to know he wasn’t alone. But after Justine let Ben go, the trooper went bat shit crazy on Ryker, the last person she thought stood in her way.
Everything happened too fast. She replayed the nightmare over and over in her mind. Ryker had survived Justine’s attack, but Lucinda would never forget the meaty thud of the knife as the blade struck his chest.
Never.
***
Ketchikan General Hospital
Evening
Lucinda left Ryker sleeping in his hospital room to hear an update from Hutch and Cam. In the waiting area outside his room, she stood with her team, unable to sit. Hutch and Cam had stayed to dig into Justine Peterson’s life. Ryker would want to know everything they found when he’d be ready to hear it, but beyond that, they would build a file on the woman serial killer.
Justine Peterson was no longer an UNSUB. She had a name and soon, they’d know a lot more about her.
“Josh Getty’s shack is a treasure trove, if you’re into stockpiled shit fit for rats. We’re processing his place for evidence,” Hutch said. “HAZMAT suits and gas masks wouldn’t keep the filth and stink out. Reminds me of an old roommate I had in college. No lie.”
“My skin is still crawling from my visit. Believe me I know what you’re saying.” Lucinda stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets. “You find anything interesting for our case?”
Hutch exchanged a somber look with Cam and let his partner answer the question.
“We found photos she’d taken of her victims…in various stages of their torture, while they were still alive. With facial recognition, we may have enough to ID them now.” Cam’s eyes were watery. “She and Josh posed with the bodies and took pictures. I still can’t get my mind wrapped around her being law enforcement. If Ryker hadn’t come here, we might never have known.”
A shiver ran over Lucinda’s skin. She crossed her arms and pressed them for more.
“You left a text message on my phone the other day,” Lucinda said. “I didn’t see it until…afterwards. Was there something you needed to tel
l me, something you found at the library?”
“Yeah. We searched the library computer for logon times that corresponded to hits on Ben’s social media pages. With the help of a local trooper, we tied traffic and surveillance cam images to our Thrill-Seeker logons. We put a name and face to our mystery computer user.”
“And?”
“Another trooper identified Justine Peterson in a patrol cruiser. She uses an assigned vehicle whenever she comes to Klawock. We have surveillance cams to link her to Thriller-Seeker. Sinead dug into her online activity through the library system and we know she had a Cloud account. We’ll need a warrant to see what’s behind the Cloud, but I bet we’ll find her FaceTrax app with more connections to our victims. We should get closure for the families…finally.”
Lucinda knew firsthand what closure meant to a victim’s family. It always broke her heart to give a family bad news, but not knowing anything would be far worse.
“I’m working with Whitmire and the state troopers to wrap up our case. We’ve got a joint operation now,” Lucinda told Hutch and Cam. “The troopers seized Peterson’s plane and are processing it. He’s also got men searching for Grady Lee Matson’s body near Applewhite’s cabin. I’ll let you know when they find something. We should be in on it.”
The pieces to the puzzle of Justine Peterson and Josh Getty were coming together. Whitmire had someone search financial and tax records. The troopers found a truck in Getty’s name that the man kept outside Seattle at an airport hangar. If these extra locations panned out, there would be more crime scenes to process for evidence.
If Ryker hadn’t risked everything on his hunch to dig into Nathan Applewhite’s life, Lucinda didn’t want to think how many more victims there would’ve been.
“How’s Ryker today?” Hutch asked.
“His color looks better,” Cam said.