Kyle made a slight noise as if about to protest. He leaned forward, hand up, but then dropped his hand back onto the table, shoulders slumping.
Sayer felt bad for him. How horrific it must be to realize that his sister was most likely a serial killer. Despite Kyle’s struggle, the realization that they finally had their target set off a familiar flare of excitement in Sayer’s chest. She stoked it, letting it blossom into rage. Having an identity for their UNSUB gave her focus, renewed her drive to hunt.
“Dana, you said you had two things. What’s the second?”
“I identified the cremated skeleton. And it’s a doozy.…” She took a deep breath, looking over at Kyle with concern. “The last skeletonized victim was Cricket and Kyle’s mother, Olivia Nelson.”
Max sucked in his breath.
Kyle blinked rapidly, jaw working back and forth.
No one spoke for a very long time.
“My mother died of a stroke,” Kyle finally said.
“I’m afraid that’s not true,” Dana said gently. “The cause of death was almost certainly a blow to the head from a sharp object.”
“I thought your mom died a few days after Cricket left,” Max said.
“No, she died the day Cricket left. I saw her that morning at breakfast and then went to school. She wasn’t home when I got back from school. Then Cricket disappeared and my dad told me that mom was dead. I always just figured it was the stress of Cricket leaving. We had a funeral for my mom. She’s buried down in Rockfish.”
“Was it closed casket?” Sayer asked.
“Well, yeah.…”
“Which means that it’s possible that her body wasn’t actually in the casket at all. Which would make me suspect that your father had something to do with all this, but he was away for two years between ’96 and ’02, correct?”
“Yeah. You think my dad had something to do with my mom’s death?” Kyle seemed confused.
“Well, we originally thought maybe he was the killer back then.…”
“What the hell?” Kyle’s face hardened.
Sayer continued, ignoring his anger. “But that’s clearly not possible. But someone did very effectively cover up your mother’s murder.” She walked over to stare at the murder board, body buzzing. “The question is, who?” She turned to Kyle. His entire body pulled into a taut bundle of anger. “Now that we’re thinking of Cricket as a possible UNSUB, is it possible she killed your mother in some kind of scuffle and then ran? The timing would work.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Kyle stood up so quickly his chair flew backward. He gripped the edge of the table. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to this. It’s one thing to accuse my sister of murder. But killing our own mother … I just won’t hear this bullshit.” He stormed out of the conference room. Moments later they heard a car screech away.
“Should someone go after him?” Ezra asked.
“No, give him some time to cool down while we try to figure out what all of this means.” Sayer began to pace, trying to piece together everything they had just learned. Was it possible that Cricket was the original murderer? Did she kill her mother for some reason and then flee? If so, who covered up Mrs. Nelson’s murder?
Everyone sat lost in thought. Sayer realized they needed to refocus. “All right.” She leaned against the table. “I know we all have a lot going on here. Poor Kyle is dealing with the idea that his sister is a murderer who just tried to kill him and might have killed his mother. Max, you’re wondering if you helped a killer escape seventeen years ago. Ezra, hell, you’re learning how to walk again. Piper, you’re stuck in the middle of a criminal investigation you didn’t ask for. Dana, you just got back from a war zone. And I’ve got a whole shitload of political crap flowing from D.C. But none of that matters. You know what does matter?” She strode over to the whiteboard. “These women and this child are what matters. We’re here on the front lines with badges and guns, and test tubes and computers, working tirelessly to stand between innocent people and the evil that walks this earth. We are facing off against a monster because we believe that no one deserves to suffer. Which is why we’re going to buckle down and do whatever it takes to save these people.” She tapped the photos of Hannah and the Wattses. “So let’s figure out what’s next.”
Piper’s phone buzzed, interrupting Sayer.
She read the text and looked up at Sayer with wide eyes. “Ranger said someone spotted a little girl on the side of the road a few miles up Skyline Drive. She matches the description of our missing girl, Grace Watts!”
SENATOR DEWITT’S OFFICE, CAPITOL HILL, WASHINGTON, D.C.
FBI Assistant Director Janice Holt pushed open the ridiculously oversized door leading to Senator John DeWitt’s inner office.
“Janice, please come in,” DeWitt said from one of a pair of high-backed chairs facing an ornate fireplace.
Holt stepped around the chairs to find two silver-haired men reclining comfortably.
“Senator DeWitt, Director Anderson,” she said, jowls pulling into a frown. She had not expected the FBI director to be here.
The director nodded acknowledgment of her presence but kept his eyes toward the low fire.
She stood awkwardly on the overplush carpet and they did not offer her a place to sit.
“Janice, I know you’re angry that you’ve become a target in the hearings,” the senator said softly.
“That I…? Is that why you think I’m angry?”
“It’s not?” DeWitt steepled his fingers, bushy eyebrows arching with curiosity.
“Well, of course I’m angry that I’m about to lose my job at a place I have worked tirelessly to turn into the best forensic lab in the country. But the entire premise of these hearings is ludicrous. It’s spreading my agents thin, preventing them from doing their jobs. You and your esteemed colleagues”—she waved her hand toward the director—“clearly plan to dismantle Quantico. I’m not sure why, but I see it coming.…”
No one spoke for a long while. Holt listened to the sound of the crackling fire, trying not to lose her temper at these arrogant men stuffed in overpriced suits.
The director finally spoke, in his soft New England accent. “Janice.” He let out an exasperated sigh that made Holt want to punch him right in his aquiline nose. “I thought for a very long time that you would be loyal to us. I thought that you loved the FBI, but now I see that’s not the case.”
Holt clenched her teeth. “Director Anderson, you’re correct. I’m not loyal to a director, nor am I loyal to an institution. I am loyal to the principles of the FBI and I’m loyal to my fellow agents.”
“Does that mean you will refuse to follow orders from your superiors?” Senator DeWitt asked.
“It means that any institution can be corrupted, Senator.” Holt spat the last word. “There are good and bad people everywhere. There are good cops and bad cops. There are good agents and bad agents. Hell, there are good teachers and bad teachers. An institution like the FBI can only fulfill its duty to the public when the institution itself protects against corruption by protecting the good and weeding out the bad.”
“But you swore an oath.…”
“To defend the Constitution from enemies, foreign and domestic.” She stressed the word and. “So, to answer your previous question, no, I will not follow orders if I believe them to work against the very things I swore to protect.”
“Janice.” DeWitt shook his head slowly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear that. Because we’ve been following Agent Altair’s most recent case.…”
Holt said nothing.
“I heard about the local police officer shot just hours ago.” The senator sighed regretfully. “Altair has cobbled together a team consisting of a park ranger, a K9 agent with limited investigative experience, a UN employee who left the FBI years ago, and a local cop with a personal connection to the case.”
“And you know perfectly well that our resources are limited because you are forcing us to review thousands of c
ases that couldn’t possibly have been compromised. You’ve got overseers in every lab, dragging hundreds of agents through overzealous reviews,” Holt said. “You know I support a review. We need to operate aboveboard to preserve public trust. But these hearings are spurious nonsense.”
DeWitt ignored her comment. “Whatever the reason for Altair’s incompetence, we have concluded that it reflects poorly on you. We’ve also concluded that it is time for new leadership at Quantico.”
“And there’s the true reason we’re here.” Holt turned to the director. “I thought you were better than this. But I see now that this is all just a power grab so you can put your pets in charge of Quantico.”
Director Anderson didn’t even look up at her.
“Pets?” Senator DeWitt responded instead. “I resent the implication. I care about my country and the FBI. We have an obligation to the public. If the way this case is being run is any indication of your leadership, it’s time for someone new to take the helm.” He looked away from Holt’s Valkyrie death stare.
“At least say it to my face,” Holt growled.
The senator reluctantly looked into her eyes. “We are officially requesting your resignation.”
“Fine,” Holt said. “But don’t for a second convince yourself that I will just walk away from the FBI.”
She leaned in face-to-face with Director Anderson, who studiously stared at the fire. “I’m not someone to be trifled with, and you know it,” she whispered to him.
Holt straightened and walked out without looking back.
SKYLINE DRIVE, SHENANDOAH NATIONAL PARK, VA
“Max, Piper, with me. Let’s go!” Sayer said, already charging out the door. She was relieved to see that the media was gone. Last thing they needed was a camera watching whatever was about to happen.
They crammed into the cab of Max’s truck and headed north along Skyline Drive.
Piper hung up after speaking with another park ranger, disgust settling on her round face. “A day hiker spotted the girl that matches the description of Grace Watts. He apparently told the ranger at the northern exit on his way out of the park.”
“He saw a three-year-old alone on the side of the road in the rain, in the middle of a national park, didn’t stop to check on her, and then drove all the way up to the northern entrance an hour away before notifying someone?” Sayer couldn’t believe it. “We sure it’s not our UNSUB?”
“Doubt it. Guy’s a regular day hiker but lives up in the city. He said it wasn’t raining when he saw her, and he assumed her parents were nearby … mentioned it to the ranger just in case.”
Max grunted a sound of disgust, leaning forward to focus on the road.
“I hope for that guy’s sake that we find her. If something happens to that child, I will be having a … conversation with him,” Sayer growled, eyes scanning the steep sides of the narrow road, barely visible in the downpour. “And what the hell is the deal with this rain? How is it still raining?”
“This happens every fifteen years or so,” Piper said. “There’s cold air pushing a storm front up and hot air pushing it back down until the weather system gets caught against the mountains. It can stay trapped here for weeks. Apparently there was one like this back in ’96.”
“Yeah,” Max said, “rivers crested at twenty-eight feet, flooded the whole Shenandoah valley.”
Sayer grunted an annoyed acknowledgment.
“The hiker said around mile eighty-seven?” Max asked.
“Yeah.” Piper nodded.
They rolled past the mile-eighty-seven marker and Max slowed the truck to a crawl.
Piper rubbed her hands on her knees, eyes skittering back and forth from one side of the road to the other.
Sayer saw a flash of something. “There!”
She jumped out of the truck before it fully stopped and scrambled down a short rocky slope. At the bottom, a ditch ran with swift-moving water. Just on the other side, a small girl lay on her side. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly purple.
Sayer’s breath caught.
“Please be okay,” she whispered as she crashed through the run-off, soaking herself to the waist.
She gently lifted the small child. The girl’s eyes fluttered open, then shut again. Her little body shivered against Sayer.
“She’s alive!” Sayer shouted, carefully crossing the ditch and clambering up the slope, where Max waited with a warm blanket, his medical kit already out.
Max wrapped the blanket over the girl and rushed to the truck, where he laid her on the seat. He expertly checked her over. “Her vitals are weak, she needs a hospital. Now!”
Sayer turned to Piper, expecting her to jump in the driver’s seat. Piper stood motionless in the rain, staring across the road, face drawn into a rictus of horror.
THE PIT
Hannah woke in her room. After she experienced a moment of disorientation, the events in the pit crashed into place. The fight with Jillian. That little girl in the monstrous machine. The woman’s horrific sacrifice. Now he was going after Sam!
The scream still caught in her throat finally escaped in a keening wail of pure panic.
“Sam!” she shouted.
“Sam, no no no, Sam!” Hannah slammed herself against the metal door. She had to get out. Had to stop that monster from getting her daughter.
The door was bolted, metal onto stone. No way she could break it down.
Hannah remembered the small vent. Eyes rolling white with uncontrolled fear, she attacked the thick paint like a predator, clawing frantically along the edges. Guttural sounds escaped her mouth with every gouging scrape, her frenzy increasing until she was tearing at the vent in a blur of wild motion.
She let out a feral howl when it finally came loose. Breaking fingernails, pressing with her broken finger, she pried it off the wall and stood panting in front of the small opening for a brief moment.
“Sam,” she said again as she clambered up on the bed and slid her head and shoulders into the narrow vent. She managed to push her body forward until only her feet hung out of the opening. Wriggling, Hannah managed to work her arms up along the side her body. With a groan of effort, she pushed herself a few inches forward. Her elbows hit the metal vent with a clang.
The wild panic she had felt moments before faded into a shivering determination. The vent had to lead somewhere. It was the only possible escape.
She slid her arms up and pushed again. A few more inches. And again. And again, a few inches. After a few minutes, her arm muscles quivered, but she ignored the straining ache, rhythmically sliding up her arms, push, clang. Slide, push, clang.
Her legs were useless, dangling behind her, unable to bend enough to propel her forward. The metal slid slowly by only a few inches from her nose. Her broken finger turned from a sharp pain into something that felt almost foreign, a sensation so painful that she couldn’t even tell it belonged to her own body.
As Hannah pushed deeper into the vent, the air began to feel thick and still, squeezing her chest with every breath. The light dimmed until it was nothing more than faint backscatter from some unseen source.
She recognized the signs of claustrophobia setting in, but she couldn’t stop the crashing wave of panic.
Trembling, she started chanting, “Have to save Sam. Have to save Sam. Have to save Sam,” in repetitive monotone with every push forward.
Slide, push, clang. “Have to save Sam.” Slide, push, clang.
Hannah became lost in the repetition. Sweat tickled her face as it dripped onto the slick metal. Her arm muscles shook violently, but she pushed forward until she could see a turn ahead. She crawled forward for an hour, maybe two, maybe ten? When she finally reached the turn, she let out a cry of despair. Around the corner, the vent continued on into the darkness.
SKYLINE DRIVE, SHENANDOAH NATIONAL PARK, VA
Sayer turned to see what Piper was staring at across the road.
A pale arm jutted from beneath a stand of low bushes next to the raging ditch.
“Max!”
Max jumped from the truck with Grace in his arms and hurried to Sayer’s side.
Sayer said nothing, just pointed to the arm.
Max handed the girl to Sayer and rushed over to uncover the body of a woman. Her skin was dusky blue. The downpour had washed her clean, leaving nothing behind but cuts and bruises from head to toe. Her forehead was indented, gore showing through her cracked skull.
“Jesus.” Piper turned away.
Max crouched down next to the body.
Sayer wrapped her arms tighter around the small girl, as if warding off the horror of the sight.
“Okay,” she barked, trying to snap Piper out of her shock. “We need to get the girl to the hospital right away. Max, you stay here with the body. Start documenting the scene. I’ll send an evidence team up ASAP.”
Max let out a cry, sending Sayer’s heart into her throat.
“She’s alive!” he shouted. “We can’t wait for paramedics!” He picked up the woman and sprinted toward the truck, eyes wild. “Her pulse is barely there, but I don’t think she has long! Go, go, go!”
“You drive, Piper!” Sayer said as she climbed in with the girl.
Max climbed into the covered truck bed with the woman, wrapping her tightly in blankets and lying down next to her to share his own body heat.
Piper leaped into the driver’s seat and took off as quickly as possible in the intense rain. The park ranger gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, teeth chattering from the stress.
Sayer made a call to the hospital so they could prepare for their arrival.
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