West kneaded his hands where they hung between his knees. “At least tell me there were surveillance cameras where you parked.”
Blake stopped to glare. The fire in his belly was nearly painful. “He looked right into the camera while he made the delivery.”
“So it’s on tape,” West said. “That’s good.”
Blake leaned against the wall and tipped forward at the waist. He’d spent years thinking he was after an unhinged psychopath, but that wasn’t who Nash was. The dresses. The underwater chapel. Months of dedicated stalking. Blake had him all wrong. Nash was a sociopath. Cold and calculating. Biding his time. Planning his kills. Probably enjoying the hunt as much as the attack.
“I found something else after you left the station,” West said. “I pulled the missing person report on the woman abducted earlier this month. It struck me as inconsistent that he’d taken months between the other kills, then after five years off, he made two back-to-back attacks.” He danced his thumbs over the screen of his phone.
Blake’s cell phone buzzed on the table. He flipped it around to face him and typed in the access code.
It was a photo of the last woman to be pulled from the lake. She looked like Marissa. Marissa had said so herself.
Marissa peered at West’s phone and made a strange gurgling sound. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
In the photo, the woman was wearing the same fitted running gear Marissa had worn the morning of her attack.
Blake swallowed a mouthful of bile. Nash had mistaken her for Marissa. “He’d been expecting Marissa on that towpath.”
West nodded. “I think so. The fitness app on Marissa’s phone showed a pattern of morning trips to that park. Typically, Tuesday mornings, the same day of the week that this woman went missing.”
Marissa’s face paled impossibly further. “Sometimes, I skip my morning jog to meet Kara for breakfast. It’s kind of our thing. Very impromptu. I’m always busy, and she slows me down with an unexpected invitation. I never say no.” Until today. A tear rolled onto her cheek and she quickly swiped it away. “That woman is dead because of me?”
“No.” Blake and West growled the answer.
Marissa scoffed. “He came for me. I wasn’t there, and this poor woman has my taste in clothes.” A painful wedge formed in her throat. “She was just living her life.”
West angled on the couch to face her. “So were you. You didn’t know you were being watched. How could you? No one knew.”
The truth was another hot poker to Blake’s gut. He should’ve known. He’d become lax this year. Assuming Nash was either dead or out of the country after such a long hiatus. He’d slowly stopped wasting federal time and money chasing vapor.
Maybe that was why Nash got back into the game.
Could he have known that Blake had moved on? Would Nash start killing again to regain Blake’s attention?
Had he been watching Blake all this time?
* * *
MARISSA LEANED ON her forearms, trying to remain calm. Her heart sprinted and her chest heaved, desperate for more air than her lungs could find. She concentrated on breathing. Slow and steady. This is what Nash wants, she chided internally. He wants you in an emotional frenzy. Hadn’t West said as much at the station? Psychological warfare.
Well, it was working.
The jogger had been murdered because of her. Her sister had possibly been abducted because of her.
It had to stop. “Use me as bait.”
The men fell silent. She hadn’t kept up with their conversation, but their voices were suddenly still.
She released an uneasy breath and levered herself upright. “Nash wants me, so let him have me.”
Blake’s eyes bulged briefly before narrowing into slits. “Absolutely not.”
West leaned slightly forward, catching her eye. “It’s a noble thought, but we aren’t in the business of putting people in danger.”
“Or giving animals like Nash Barclay exactly what they want,” Blake barked.
Marissa pushed onto shaky legs and moved toward him. “So, don’t give him what he wants.” She turned to West. “Protect me.” That covered both their arguments. “Use me to save my sister.”
West groaned. “We don’t know if he—”
She waved her hand to stop him. “Then use me to save the next lady.” She turned back to Blake’s glaring eyes. “There will always be a next victim unless you stop him.”
“No.”
“Blake.”
“I said no.” His words sliced through her.
She wouldn’t win this battle. “Then there must be another way,” she pleaded. “So, what is it? Because it’s certainly not to sit in this room and wait for his next move. His next move could be murder.” She folded her arms, hoping to look resolute and hating the hint of whine in her voice.
Blake looked past her to his brother. “What do you make of the photos? What’s the point? Why deliver them now?”
Marissa wrapped thin arms around her middle. “He’s been watching me for months. Some of those photos were taken in the spring.”
Blake ran a comforting palm down her back.
“Can we be sure I’m the only one under surveillance?” she asked. “Is there a chance it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity with the other jogger?”
The more Blake learned about Nash, the less mistakes seemed like his thing, but anything was possible. “We’ll know soon.”
“How?” Her voice ratcheted up, drawing the attention of several men and women in quiet discussion. “When someone else is dead?”
“No.” West shook his head. “We’ve got no evidence to suggest he’s out randomly hunting women. He’s taken six in total. He’s practiced. Patient and methodical. Right now, I think he’s acting out on his weird cops-and-robbers fantasy with Blake.”
Marissa’s gaze darted up to meet Blake’s.
“Nash stopped killing while I was hunting him. I lost focus on him, and he started again. I think that’s why.”
Marissa’s heart ached. Blaming himself wasn’t helping anything, but she certainly understood the inclination for self-blame. After all, she was the crowned queen of that response.
“We found the other victims,” West said. “That was a huge move in the right direction, and the ME will have more details for us to go on soon.” He cast a promising look at Marissa. “We’re going to get Nash before he takes anyone else.”
The room grunted in agreement around them.
She moved back to her place on the couch, stomach sinking further at the memory of the photos’ invasive content. Marissa on a jog. Marissa at a stoplight. Buying groceries. Pumping gas. Hanging clothes on a line. She’d been so naive and vulnerable at home, rocking on the back porch while being spied on by a serial killer. Why hadn’t he just taken her then? Why hadn’t she sensed him there? Watching her. Be aware. Know who’s near. Look for danger. Her dad had spent twenty-six years drilling those lessons into her head, but she’d learned nothing.
Images of the attack screamed to mind, as bright and vivid as the moments they’d happened. He’d stalked her for months, but he’d stood out like a grizzly bear that morning. He’d dressed in the wrong clothes. Smelled like cigarettes and even spoken to her. “He made sure I saw him.” Her hands grew clammy with the thought. “He could’ve sneaked up on me, but he made me uncomfortable on purpose.” He’d wanted her to be afraid. He’d probably even counted on her not going straight to her car. If he’d followed her all those months, he had to have known she wouldn’t leave the forest without a moment of reflection. She was so predictable.
Moments later, the group seemed to stand in unison and the little room bustled to life as men and women sprang toward the door with purpose.
Blake headed for her room with the little black duffel West had given him. He returned several minutes later in
a T-shirt announcing Property of Cade County Sheriff’s Department across the chest.
West snickered. “Looking good, Garrett.”
Blake dropped his beaded chain and FBI badge over his head and screwed a black ball cap over damp, mussed hair. “No sense in aiming for sheriff, that was always in your cards.”
“What I heard was that you couldn’t compete.”
Blake smiled at his brother with warmth and pride. The quick shower had done him well.
Marissa’s earlier shower had only reminded her how sore her muscles were from yesterday’s fight.
Blake braced broad hands over narrow hips and locked sharp blue eyes on her. “Ready?”
“What?” She stood, unsure why. What had she missed?
Worry etched through his brow. “I want to make another pass by Kara’s place. I’d actually like to have a look inside this time. I don’t suppose you or your parents have a spare key?”
“I do. At home.” Her tummy bottomed out at the thought of returning to her home at night.
Blake grabbed his truck keys from the table. “We’ll pick up the key on our way to Kara’s. West and Cole will talk to any of her neighbors who weren’t home when Cole made his rounds earlier.”
“Okay.” Marissa forced her body forward, collecting her phone and a light jacket from the bedroom before heading for the door.
With any luck, they’d find Kara’s home just as they left it. Safe and secure. No signs of invasion. With lots of luck, they’d find Kara asleep on the couch, wiped out after a long hike and hot shower. Marissa would be content to find her at the local hospital with a twisted ankle or some other non-life-threatening injury.
Marissa strode through the hotel door with renewed hope and purpose. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding with Kara. Maybe she’d lost her phone or the battery was dead. “Here.” She placed her house key in Blake’s hand. “I assume you plan to go in first.”
“I do.” He opened his passenger door and helped her inside.
“Kara’s key is on the rack in the kitchen. It’s the one with the four-leaf-clover chain.” She tapped the dome on his ceiling with two fingers. “Your interior light’s broken.”
“Disabled.” He shifted into Reverse and headed away from the hotel.
“Why?”
“Stealth. Vehicles are big and loud enough without flashing a light every time I climb in or out after nightfall.”
Marissa pulled her attention back to the road, unsure if the explanation was frightening or genius, and hoping there would be no need for stealth tonight.
Chapter Ten
Things were profoundly quiet outside Marissa’s home. The view was exactly as she’d expected, the same one she’d enjoyed most nights for many years. An owl cocked its head at the truck as Blake eased it onto the end of her driveway. Behind the owl, soft gray clouds raced past the harvest moon, driven by the gentle breeze that worked the trees along her property line. Her fingers stretched and curled on her lap, eager to capture the shot on film, and missing her camera more than ever. A rush of fallen leaves tumbled across her lawn and adhered themselves to the narrow trunk of a baby evergreen. This night was made for bonfires and friends with spiked apple cider. Anything other than hunting a killer.
Blake shifted into Park and snuffed the headlights.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her home was another hundred feet up the driveway, and she longed to see that it was okay. A thousand warm memories filled those walls and the acres around them. She’d give just about anything to go inside, curl beneath her grandma’s quilt by the fire and pretend the last two days were nothing more than a nightmare. Sadly, her old normal was her new fantasy. Mornings of scrambling eggs in the kitchen without feeling stalked were probably gone forever, but if that was all she lost to Nash, she’d count it as a win.
His posture was rigid at her side, eyes focused and square jaw clenched.
“I thought we were in a hurry to grab the key and get to Kara’s?” she asked.
He pulled his phone from the cup holder and typed something against the screen. “Your porch light is out.”
“So?” She eyeballed the shadows cast from her roof over the front yard. “I haven’t been home. No one was here to turn it on.”
He finished prodding his phone and set the device in his cup holder. “I turned it on when we left.”
Marissa pulled her attention back to Blake. “You think Nash came back here?” The photo he’d taken of her and Blake came to mind. “He was here while we were. You think he stuck around and took the bulb after we left.”
“Maybe, but why?” Blake narrowed his eyes on her home. “I don’t know what to expect from him anymore, which, I suppose, is exactly what he wants.” He scooped her house key from the cup holder and stuffed it into the pocket of his pants.
“Are you worried?” It was hard to get a read on him when he wore that blank agent expression.
“No.” He flicked his gaze to the side-view mirror outside his door. “I’m pissed.”
Right. She was the worrier. He was the warrior.
The sheriff’s cruiser rolled into view beside them, the headlights flashing over her home.
A great gasp tore through Marissa’s chest. A figure dressed in white swung from her porch rafters. She shut her eyes shut and prayed, shamelessly, that it wasn’t her sister.
* * *
BLAKE CLIMBED OUT like a ghost and shut the door behind him. He gave her a sour look and pointed through the glass. As if she needed to be warned not to follow. As if she hadn’t seen enough murder victims to last her ten lifetimes.
Cole opened the cruiser’s passenger door and raised a massive black flashlight at the figure. Wind whipped the thing into a near horizontal position, and Marissa let out a cry of relief. Whatever was wearing the gown wasn’t human. No one weighed so little that they would float like that, not even in the force of a brewing storm.
The Garretts met in the beams of the sheriff’s headlights. Together they charged toward the gown and her mysteriously darkened home. West and Blake went inside, flipping the porch light on behind them.
Cole prodded the gown as it flipped and twisted in the wind, partially filled by what now appeared to be an inflatable doll in a long blond wig.
Marissa’s home illuminated room-by-room. Living room. Kitchen, bedroom, bedroom, back porch. She winced with each new light, praying that Blake was safe and Nash wasn’t waiting there to surprise him.
Cole stayed in near-constant motion, patrolling the perimeter, until the others returned to view. Their silhouettes were relaxed now, knees no longer locked, shoulders slack. They’d even removed their right palms from the butts of their weapons.
Marissa strained to hear them, but they were too far away, and the winds were gaining strength, getting louder by the gust.
A tornado of emotion built in Marissa’s empty stomach. If the coast was all clear, and the woman in white was only a doll, then why was she still locked in the truck? Why hadn’t she been invited to join them in whatever they were discussing?”
Clouds passed over the moon, casting the men into darkness. She could see them if she squinted, but only barely. Marissa craned her neck to curse the clouds.
The loaner phone buzzed in her pocket. She freed the tiny device and checked the caller ID. Her parents’ home number glowed on the screen. “Hi, Mom,” she answered.
“Hi.” Her mother’s voice was soft. Controlled. Marissa recognized the tone immediately. She was being brave. It was the same tone she used when anyone was sick or hurt. “I’m sorry to call again. I just wanted to know you’re still okay.”
Marissa smiled against the receiver, hoping her effort carried though the line. “I’m good. I promise. Very safe. I’m constantly surrounded by lawmen who are all about my well-being.” She forced a nervous laugh. At the moment, at least three of them were
intentionally leaving her out of their conversation, but she doubted that news would make her mom feel any better. It was certainly frustrating the daylights out of Marissa. “Any word from Kara?” she asked, redirecting her thoughts. She knew the answer already, of course. If her mom had any news about Kara, she would have led with that.
“No, but I missed a call earlier. I didn’t recognize the number, and there was no message. I didn’t call back. Do you think I should have?”
Marissa fiddled idly with her jacket’s zipper. “Probably not. If it was Kara, I think she would’ve left a message or kept calling until you answered.” Or called Marissa. “You should tell Mr. Garrett. See what he thinks.”
“Okay. I will.” Her mom’s voice wavered. “I made up your old room today. In case you change your mind about staying with us.”
“Mom.”
“I know.” She sniffled. “Our old Sheriff Garrett showed up after you left. He came out of retirement for this.”
“Hey,” Marissa interrupted. “We’re going to get through this. We’ll be stronger for it.”
Her mom didn’t respond.
Marissa imagined her mother pressing tear-soaked tissues to her eyes and sobbing silently behind a palm. “Where’s Mr. Garrett now?”
“Outside. He’s been patrolling the grounds with your father ever since.”
Leaving her alone. She glared at the younger Garretts in her driveway, who were doing the same thing to her.
“I’m sorry you’re alone,” she told her mom. More than that, Marissa was sorry she couldn’t be there to support and comfort her somehow. “I’d be with you if I could.”
“I know.” Her mom’s careful composure was gone. “Where is your sister?” She choked the words out on a whisper. Her heartbreak split Marissa’s chest in two.
“We’ll find her.”
Her mom’s sobs flowed freely now.
Marissa would have given anything to hold her. To shoulder the burden. Her mother had lost hope, and she needed something to hold onto. “We’re at my house, collecting the key to Kara’s place. Blake says the house is all clear, and we’re headed to Kara’s next. I’m hoping she wrote her agenda on the calendar or made some other note about what she planned to do today. At least then Blake’s team will know where to begin looking. I’ll tell you what we find at Kara’s as soon as we’re finished there.”
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