Lethal Lies

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Whoa.” The doctor held out a hand. “What are you doing?”

  Getting his woman back. “Where are my clothes?” Heath glanced around the room, chilled in the hospital gown.

  “The FBI took them for evidence,” the doctor said, his eyes wide behind the glasses.

  Great. Heath turned and planted his bare feet on the freezing floor. The room twirled around him.

  “I have to advise you to get back into bed,” the doctor said. “You have a concussion, Mr. Jones.”

  “I’ve had worse.” God, he had to get to Anya. Where was she? “Reese?” he bellowed.

  Detective Malloy hurried into the room, his trench coat flying behind him. He flashed his badge, his brown eyes serious. “Need a minute, Doc.”

  The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’ll go check on my other patient.” He hustled from the room.

  “Malloy? Where the hell is Anya?” Heath shoved off the bed and instantly went down.

  Malloy caught him under the armpits and hauled him back onto the bed. “We have a problem. A serious one.” The cop looked frantically around. “Where are your clothes?”

  “FBI took them.” Heath sucked in air. He needed to go find Anya. “Does he have Anya? The Copper Killer?”

  “Yeah.” Malloy shoved an arm beneath Heath’s good shoulder. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  As Heath stood, dizziness grabbed him around the throat and took his vision. “To get Anya.”

  “That too.”

  Heath tried to focus. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “I’ll explain in the car.” Malloy all but carried him to the door and poked his head out into the hallway. “I’m risking my job and possible freedom here, buddy. I owe your brother Shane, and I trust him. But if you’re a bad guy, I’ll hunt you down and shoot you myself.”

  Heath leaned on the cop, not having a choice. He needed to get out of the hospital, so he went along with the guy. “Fine. We need to get Denver.”

  “Right now, if you want to save your girl, we have to get you out of here.” Urgency deepened the cop’s already deep voice. “I don’t know why the hell I’m helping you. I don’t owe Shane that much, damn it.” Muttering to himself, Malloy propelled Heath down a fairly empty hallway to a stairwell. “If we get caught, I’m claiming you got my gun.”

  Heath had to concentrate to put one foot in front of the other and not fall on his face. “I need clothes.”

  “No shit.” The cop led him into an underground parking area, grunting from the weight. “Brown car.”

  Heath tried to help. They reached a nondescript brown car with a few dents in the side, and Malloy shoved him inside. Within seconds, the cop was in the car and roaring out of the parking area.

  “Wait,” Heath said. “Your phone?”

  The cop handed over his phone. Heath dialed Denver, holding his breath.

  “Yeah?” Denver asked, his voice gravelly.

  “You clear?”

  “Affirmative. FBI just left to take a phone call. Where are you?” Denver asked, sounding like he was moving fast.

  Heath set his head back on the seat. “We’re outside to the west. Where’s Ryker?”

  “He and Zara just created another safe house in town. It was a rental, former drug house, and they paid cash. No trace to us. I told them I could get you there.”

  Heath nodded. “Good. They need a safe place until we can get them out of town.”

  “Agreed.” Denver swore. The sound of a window being wrenched open came over the line. “I’ll be right there.” He clicked off.

  “We can’t wait,” Malloy said urgently.

  Heath opened his eyes and viewed the cop. “We’re waiting.”

  There wasn’t a need to argue further because the back door of the car opened and Denver jumped inside, still wearing a hospital gown. “Fuck, it’s cold. I need socks.”

  Heath swallowed down bile. “Go.”

  Malloy was already pressing the gas, and soon they were speeding away from the hospital. “I hope my guy cut the camera feeds like he promised,” he muttered.

  Heath shook his head. “What is going on?” His chest started to hurt worse. Maybe the morphine had been helping.

  Malloy twisted on the windshield wipers as the snow bombarded them. “Jolene Landers was found dead an hour ago near the river. Raped and strangled.”

  Heath made a low sound and fought nausea. “She was just a decoy.”

  “Yeah,” Malloy agreed. “The kicker is that we also found a bag loaded with rocks in the river . . . hidden not too well.”

  Heath shook his head. “Don’t tell me.”

  “Yep. Carl Spark’s phone, another phone, and a wallet with a Wyoming driver’s license for Kip Levy.”

  Heath settled back and shut his eyes again to keep from passing out. “Great.”

  Malloy turned the heat on full blast. “Yeah. Your face is on the license. I guess Kip is an alias?”

  “Yeah.” Heath slowly opened his eyes, and gray light pierced into his brain. Concussions sucked. “Was there a gun with it?”

  “Nope.”

  The gun no doubt would show up since it probably had been used to kill Carl. Heath pushed that thought aside for now. “Does the FBI have the info?”

  “They should by now,” Malloy said. “My guys found the body and the sunken bag, and I had a friend hold off on contacting Special Agent Reese until I could get to you. But he couldn’t have waited long.”

  Gratitude for the cop exploded through Heath. “We owe you.”

  “Damn straight.” Malloy took a sharp left turn. “Your face is also plastered all over the news. Reporters were waiting when you were taken out of the bombed building. They have stills and video—clearly showing it’s you. Shane told me to warn you about that for some reason.”

  Heath studied the cop. Cobb and Madison would be coming. Fast. “How much do you know?”

  “More than I want to know. I ran into the force chasing you guys, and I know they’re not really with the military. So I help Shane when I can,” Malloy said. “This is above and beyond, however. I don’t need the FBI on my ass. Or a Sheriff Cobb—whose phone call I still haven’t returned.”

  “Agreed. Where are we?”

  Malloy eyed the storm outside. “Headed to a hotel on the outskirts of town where the owner won’t ask any questions.”

  “No.” Heath tried to sit up, and his ribs protested. He sucked in air. Jesus. “Denver? Where’s the safe house?” He needed to make sure Ryker and Zara were all right.

  “Mulcolly Street,” Denver said, working away on his phone. “Last house on the end. Cute blue bungalow.”

  Malloy shook his head. “Safe houses. For the love of pete.”

  “Take us there,” Heath said, his body wanting to shut down. “Do you have anything on Anya? Anything at all?”

  “Not yet,” Malloy said grimly. “We have everybody working on it, and I’m sure the FBI does as well. Reese was bellowing into a phone the second she was taken. He’s almost obsessed, which is good.”

  “Denver?” Heath asked, struggling to keep his brain working when his body wanted to freak the hell out. She was with a fuckin’ serial killer. This was Heath’s fault.

  Denver tapped on his phone. “The quickest kill for this guy, besides the victim this morning, was three days. She’s smart, Heath. She’ll keep herself alive until we can get to her. Plus, she’s the one he’s always wanted.”

  “I saw the guy.” Heath closed his eyes again and tried to see through the fog. A man coming toward him, more smoke, his lungs burning. Hours later he still coughed, and he forced himself to concentrate on the man. The guy was dressed in all black and wore a gas mask. A clear gas mask.

  It had been difficult to see through the smoke, but Heath’s eyes weren’t exactly normal. “The way the guy moved. Smooth and graceful . . . and he knew all about explosives. In addition, he somehow found our safe headquarters.”

  “He’s smart,” Denver returned, s
till working on his phone.

  Yeah. Definitely smart. “He tracked us, he blew the place up, and he took Anya.” Heath rubbed at the stitches along his forearm. “I’ve seen him before.” Where had he seen the guy? He needed to clear his head, and now. “How long till morphine leaves your system?” he muttered, turning toward his brother. His ribs protested, and he sucked in air as pain beat at his innards.

  “With your metabolism, not long,” Denver said.

  “Good.” Heath concentrated harder, and a face swam into his vision. He blinked. Wait a minute. Everything crashed through his head at once. “Ah shit.”

  “What?” Denver looked up.

  “Give me your phone.” Heath lifted a hand, and his chest compressed.

  Denver handed it over. Heath quickly dialed for a face chat.

  “Heath?” Shane swam into view. “Saw you on the news. We’re loading up now and should be there in a couple of hours.”

  “No.” Heath coughed and could swear he still tasted the gas. “We’re heading to a safe house, and we have no clue where Anya is. Right now, you’re of more use to me by getting on the computers. Hack into every satellite and camera you can, and find this guy.”

  Shane’s worried eyes turned a dark gray. “You need backup.”

  “I have it. Please. For now, hold tight. If we need physical reinforcements, I’ll let you know. Right now I need your expertise, contacts, and prayers.” Heath stored up his breath to talk. “The guy who took her, I saw him.” The face cleared. Came into focus. Determined brown eyes and a hard jaw. That fucking fake marshal. The one who moved like he’d been trained his whole life.

  Shane’s eyebrows lifted. “Who is he?”

  “Dunno, but he acted like a U.S. Marshal looking for us. I think he also attacked Anya and me at the hotel near DC.” Facts started clicking into place. “He moved like you. Like he’s been trained.”

  Shane drew in a breath. “You think he’s one of Madison’s soldiers?”

  “That’s what I thought when I saw him the first time—even though he wore a disguise.” It made a sick kind of sense. “The way he fought at the hotel coupled with the knowledge of infiltration and the use of explosives tonight? He’s one of her soldiers.”

  Shane frowned. “Shit. That’s too much of a coincidence, Heath. Think about it.”

  “I am.” He was trying to, anyway. His mind was still muddled. “This guy is a serial killer, and he’s trained by Madison.”

  “How did you get involved in the case?” Shane asked slowly, his lips flattening out.

  Heath rubbed his gritty eyes. “We were hired by one of the families.”

  Shane’s eyes darkened. “Call them. Ask how they got your name or found you on the dark web.”

  Man, if the killer had engineered Heath’s involvement in his crazy spree, the guy was beyond brilliant and psychotic. If he worked with Dr. Madison, he was playing a very twisted game. “I’ll call the family.” Heath fought the anger burning inside him. He had to think and get into this guy’s head. Finally there was at least a slim lead. “Forgetting that Anya is the key for a moment, is there any reason one of Dr. Madison’s soldiers would have an obsession with redheads to the point of carving the word ‘Mine’ into their chests?”

  Shane paled to the color of paste.

  Heath sat up straighter, his instincts humming. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Shane gave a curt nod. “Call me back when you’re alone.” He disconnected the call.

  CHAPTER

  37

  Anya took a bite of her already cut up steak and gingerly tested the shackles around her ankles. A quick glance confirmed they were ordinary-looking handcuffs, which were also attached to big rings in the floor. Should she address the handcuffs? He seemed to be playing out some sort of fantasy with the dinner, and a reminder of reality might just piss him off.

  Daniel sat across from her and poured more red wine into his glass. He wore dark slacks and a blue silk shirt, looking like he was out on a first date. His hair was thick and combed, and he’d shaven his face recently. If she’d just met him, she’d think he was extremely good-looking. She squinted. They had met.

  He smiled. “You’re remembering.”

  “Yes.” But he was only vaguely familiar. “Why don’t you refresh my memory?”

  He sighed. “You were seventeen, and you thought I was maybe nineteen. We met at Sharon’s Hometown Diner in Lake Wanatanka.”

  She blinked. Memories, hazy, fuzzed through her head. “You bought me an ice cream.” He’d been a cute boy sitting alone near the beach, and he’d approached her.

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “Even with that red hair, you were so pure. So sweet.”

  She struggled to capture more of the memory. “It was my last day at camp.”

  He nodded. “I asked you out the next night, and you said you had to go back home to school. You left me.” His lips turned down.

  He’d been so handsome, but the moment had been fleeting. Now, as it was, he looked like a monster. One she needed to get to trust her. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Maybe. I was on a job and couldn’t follow you.” He sighed. “But I eventually did find you, and I’ve kept watch.”

  She took a sip. They needed some sort of connection. She’d have to go slow with the questions and maybe give him some admiration. “The wine is good. What is it?”

  “It’s a local blend,” he said, smiling. “I like to buy local when I travel.”

  She tried to choke down some steak. It looked like it was cooked perfectly, but it tasted like exposed cardboard. Fear made everything bitter. “What kind of job were you on when we met?”

  “I’m a soldier and was even then.”

  “With the U.S. military?” she asked, her mind rioting. “No. With a private group.” He munched on his steak, humming with pleasure.

  She glanced toward the stormy evening outside and kept her gaze from the bed. All of the victims had been raped, but maybe the courting part of his ritual with her would last more than a day. She could only hope. “I’ve always admired soldiers.”

  “We do work hard,” he confirmed. “I’m planning on taking command of the group I work for. It lacks military leadership right now.”

  What was his trigger? He’d obsessed about her for years but hadn’t made a move. Something had forced him to start killing and sending her pictures. “Ambition is good.” She tried to take a bite of the fresh salad. “You must have a lot of freedom with your hours to be able to, ah, keep an eye on me.”

  He nodded, his gaze still piercing. “I have more than I used to.”

  She needed some sort of plan. Getting into his head was like dancing around land mines. But she just needed to distract him long enough for her to make a break for it. The deadbolt on the door wasn’t engaged. Where was that knife? “Loretta’s death made me so sad. Have you been sad lately?” she prodded, her breath almost burning her throat and lungs.

  His face darkened. “Yes. I lost my father.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she burst out. “Is that when you started, ah, playing a game with me?”

  He took another sip of wine. “I’ve done more than play a game. I arranged all of this.” He paused. “Well, I hadn’t thought you would sleep with Heath. You’ll have to pay for that.”

  She shivered. Fear pricked along her back. “You, ah, know Heath?”

  “Yes. Your boyfriend and his brothers are part of my job.” Daniel took a healthy drink of the wine, and color burst across his chiseled features. “I guess I should say your ex-boyfriend now.”

  Anya tried to interpret his words. “I don’t understand.”

  Daniel set down his glass. “You’re not dating him now. That makes him your ex, and me your future. Or do you disagree?” His chin lowered, and his voice flattened out.

  She sucked in air. Warning tickled through her. She couldn’t promise something she didn’t mean, because he was smart enough to read her, without question. Yet she really didn’t
want to disagree with him yet. “I would only date one man at a time, Daniel. I’ve never played the field. It’s just not me.” God, she hoped that appeased him. She added some strength into her voice. “It hurts my feelings that you’d think otherwise.”

  He blinked slowly. “Don’t try to play with my head.”

  “I won’t,” she said, trying to put them on a level field. “It’s not fair for you to play with mine, either.”

  His lip twitched. “Your sister was smart, too.”

  Oh God.

  She needed to turn his focus. “I don’t understand how Heath and his brothers are part of your job.” Her hand shook around her fork, so she set it on the plate and reached for the wine. “You said you were looking for Heath when you came to my apartment and tried to kidnap me.”

  “Yes.” He cut into his steak again with a small steak knife. “I was hurt. You didn’t recognize me.”

  “You were wearing a disguise of sorts.” She’d had no idea she was meeting a serial killer in that moment.

  “True.”

  “Was the other soldier with you that day part of your job? The other fake marshal?” None of this was making sense.

  “Yes,” Daniel said.

  “I don’t get it. You work alone with your, ah, hobby with redheads.” God, that sounded so wrong. “Why did you try to kidnap me with that other marshal. Wait a minute. Do you have a partner?” She looked frantically toward the door.

  “No.” Daniel chuckled. “I partially told you the truth. We were bugging your phone because of your connection to Heath, and it made sense to approach you after that phone call. The other soldier was with me.”

  She swallowed. “But you tried to kidnap me.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I know. At first, I just wanted to be in the same room with you. Touch you somehow. Know that I’d killed your sister and you had no clue. Hence the disguise.”

  Bile lurched up into her throat, and she forced it back down. That was so sick. “That’s mean.”

  “No. It’s part of the game. Then I just couldn’t help trying to take you.” He sighed. “This has worked out better.”

  Man, he was crazy. “How are both Heath and I involved in your work and love life?” She had to play along to get answers. “That can’t be a coincidence,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice from shaking like her hands. The wineglass was heavy enough that she had to concentrate to lift it to her face.