The Surviving Girls

by Katee Robert

  “Are you sure?”

  Not in the least. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

  He sighed. “It would have been a more pleasant conversation if you asked my favorite color or what my favorite subject in school was.”

  “We don’t have the luxury of pleasant conversation.” But she found herself wanting to know, despite that. Selfish. “What is your favorite color, Dante? What was your favorite subject in school?”

  Another flash of those perfect teeth. “Green and history. Yours?”

  “Gray. Chemistry.” Once upon a time, her favorite color was pink, but there was no room for pink in her current life. She pressed her lips together, letting herself have a full ten seconds of peace over what passed as a normal conversation. This is what it could have been like if we’d met under different circumstances. Just a guy and a girl and a perfectly normal first date.

  Except for the fact that he’s an FBI agent, I train cadaver dogs, and my ex is a mass murderer.

  She focused on the road in front of them, pocketing the warmth in her chest to hold close later, when things invariably got worse—because they would before this guy was caught. “Travis?”

  For a moment, it seemed like he might not answer, but he finally said, “Berkley wants us to think he has control of the situation. Whether he actually does or not is up for debate, but he has some kind of connection to the unsub because he had possession of that picture with the coordinates on it.”

  “There’s more.” She could see it written all over his face.

  Dante nodded. “He expressed interest in you, asking after you, and there were a couple books in his cell that make me think he’s been following your career.”

  Something cold and painful lodged in her chest. She gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. It was one thing to suspect that Travis had sicced his animal on her. It was something else entirely to consider that he’d kept such a close watch on her for the last decade. Oh, she hadn’t been in hiding—all it would take was a couple of Google searches to find out her job—but it still felt as if she’d been dunked in filth. It tainted everything she’d done to date to imagine him reading through the articles, that smug look on his fucking face.

  Breathe. He’s still in prison. You are still alive. You won.

  It didn’t feel much like winning. It felt like she’d just bought herself a little time, and now she’d have to pay the piper.

  No.

  Travis thought he owned her. He’d always thought that, though she hadn’t recognized it until much later. She was a pretty toy that he’d played with until he became bored, and then he used her to play a different kind of game. Now he wanted to do it again.

  Breathing slowly did nothing to stem the panic building with each heartbeat. “I need to pull over.” Her words came out calm and almost detached. A small mercy, that. She turned onto an old logging road and put the car in park. It wasn’t enough. The metal and plastic and leather comprising the car felt like it was being crushed down around her, cutting off the air in the cab. “I just . . . I need a few minutes.” She jumped out of the car and slammed the door.

  Lei was distantly aware of Dante following her out onto the dirt road, but she couldn’t focus on him when she was so close to coming apart. Twelve years. Twelve years . . . and Travis was still fucking up her life. She ran her hands over her face and up into her hair, yanking out her ponytail holder. It shouldn’t make a difference that he was checking up on her, but with two dead girls in the forest who could have been her and Emma’s sisters, there was no avoiding feeling hunted. It didn’t matter if Travis’s hand held the knife or if he’d worked with someone else to do it—his fingerprints were all over this.

  He couldn’t let this go. He couldn’t leave the job half-finished.

  She spun on her heel and almost ran into Dante. He stood there, steady as the mountain at her back, his calm rolling over her in waves. Lei shuddered, her pieces rattling together in a sound she could almost hear, for all that it wasn’t physical. She needed the steadiness he represented. Her own failed to keep her on her feet. It took everything Lei had to keep her voice contained, even if her words were their own form of weakness. “I have one more question.”

  “Ask.”

  This was her chance to back off, to regain some semblance of strength. Of independence. To not let fear win.

  She couldn’t do it. Not with Dante standing so close, offering her something she desperately needed even though he didn’t put into words. She had the sudden feeling that she could have asked him damn near anything, and if it was within his power, he would have given it to her. No questions asked.

  She didn’t need the world. She didn’t need anything extravagant. She didn’t even need to be saved, not really.

  All she needed was to lean on someone else, just for a minute or two, until she could pull herself together again and charge forward like she always had. She swallowed hard. “Hold me? Just for a few seconds?” The comfort ultimately didn’t change a single damn thing about their current circumstances. She was still on a crash course with the past she’d fought so hard to escape.

  It didn’t matter. Not in that moment as he held out his arms. He kept still and didn’t move toward her, giving her plenty of opportunity to reconsider. As if he knew exactly how skittish this whole situation made her—in a way that had nothing to do with the murders or her ex or the uncertainty of the future. She had no business trusting this man, or letting him hold her in an effort to soak up some of the calm he carried around him like a cloak.

  Lei stepped carefully into his arms, forcing herself to go slow. She clung to his steadiness, letting him ground her with his solid body. He was so much larger than she was, his broad shoulders dwarfing hers and his arms coming easily around to hold her tight. Safe. His earthy scent reminded her of the national park they stood in, soothing her a little more with each inhale the same way his wide hands on her back seemed to draw out her exhales, deeper and deeper with each breath. There, in the circle of Dante’s arms, her thoughts finally kicked out of their frantic circling and became linear again.

  This was bigger than Lei. Bigger than Travis. There was so much more at stake than her sanity.

  Whoever the killer was, he would save Lei and Emma for last. He hadn’t worked up to attacking them yet, but he’d target other victims to taunt them with in the meantime. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Dante’s shoulder.

  His big hand shifted up between her shoulder blades, grounding her further. The heat of his palm seared through her T-shirt, branding her. It should have scared the shit out of her. She’d had a man scare the shit out of her before, albeit in very different circumstances.

  Dante was not Travis.

  Dante wasn’t even in the same stratosphere as Travis.

  He stroked her back several more times, seeming to know that physical comfort was the only thing she’d be able to handle in that moment. He didn’t tell her that it would be okay, or dole out meaningless words. He just held her until she took a breath and stepped back. His mouth was tight, as if holding back things he wanted to say, but Dante nodded and moved to the car.

  Lei slid into the driver’s seat and took a few moments to scratch Saul behind the ears. “Thank you.”

  “You keep thanking me.” He huffed out a strained laugh. “Trust me, Lei. Having you in my arms is anything but a hardship.”

  She didn’t know how to process that, so she turned the car on and pulled back onto the road. “I’m fine. It’s okay.”

  Lies upon lies.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Emma stared at the message on her screen. It had dinged five minutes ago, and she hadn’t been able to move since. At her feet, Prince whined and rubbed against her leg, responding to her spike of fear. She’d spent hours in front of her computer today, digging through the police records from the first set of murders, following a hunch she wasn’t ready to tell even Lei about.

  There was nothing to support her t
heory, nothing but a faint memory she’d done her damnedest to forget. A soft voice in the hallway, the tread of boots on the hardwood floor. Less than nothing to a terrified twenty-year-old. She’d probably imagined the whole thing while she lay curled up between the couch and the wall, waiting for Travis to find her and finish what he’d started with the rest of her sorority sisters.

  He hadn’t found her.

  She shoved to her feet and paced around the room, pausing in front of the monitors showing the area around the house. Nothing. Less than nothing. It would have given her solace, but that was before the killer had managed to use the motion-sensor cameras against her. She stopped in front of the monitor showing the feed from when he’d planted the purse—because the figure with its hood pulled up and face turned from the camera was definitely a he.

  A he who’d known exactly where her camera was and avoided it easily.

  Maybe if she could convince herself it was only the motion sensors at fault, she would feel safe again . . . but Emma never really felt safe, so it was a lost cause. She stared harder at the monitors, waiting for some motion or something to reveal itself. She usually had them flipping through on a rotating basis so she could leave a blank one in case the motion sensors were triggered, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was closing in, and if she couldn’t see every single inch of the house, he would find a way inside. To come for her.

  Crazy Emma.

  Paranoid Emma.

  It was nothing less than the truth, but at least she’d been able to comfort herself with the truth that her crazy was part of what kept them safe. Lei had her own way of dealing with the trauma they’d gone through, but Emma wasn’t strong like her friend. She’d seen the worst the world had to offer, and she wasn’t interested in giving it another shot. The veil had been torn away, and there was nothing but ugliness underneath. Even the nicest people had ulterior motives.

  Isaac Bamford showed every sign of being a good man. He had a long history in Stillwater, no criminal record to speak of, and he even went to church most Sundays. Even his freaking credit score was as close to perfect as humanly possible. But he looked at her and saw a fragile creature he wanted to protect. He saw a woman who was damaged, and every bit of evidence showed that he believed she only needed the love of a good man to drag her out of the darkness. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful and he wanted to fuck her, too.

  All that boiled down to Isaac wanting her to play damsel in distress to his hero. It would make him feel like a bigger man if he saved her—tamed her fears. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in the truth—Emma didn’t want her fears tamed.

  Fear kept her sharp.

  Fear kept her and Lei as safe as they were ever going to be.

  She walked back to the computer and studied the e-mail that had arrived and set this whole spiral in process. She’d already tried to track its source, but it was pinged through too many servers. Even if she jumped through those hoops—and she would—she suspected it would lead back to a dummy account with a fake IP address.

  The message stared at her, terrifying in its simplicity.

  I’m coming, Emma.

  If the killer was capable of dodging her tracking where this e-mail came from, he was capable of circumventing her cameras. She charged back to the monitors in time to see a flash of movement in the corner of the kitchen camera. What the hell? Emma leaned forward, but it didn’t repeat itself. She moved to the next camera, the one showing down the hall, in time to see another flash of black as a figure rounded the corner.

  Prince whined again, but the sound wasn’t his normal plaintive cry for attention. She turned and found him staring at the door to her office, every muscle in his body tense. As if he saw something she couldn’t, knew something she didn’t.

  Emma burst into motion. She made it to the office door in three steps and slammed it shut, not caring that she was giving herself away. If she was Lei, she would grab a gun and rush to defend her house. But Emma wasn’t Lei. She was just herself, and the thought of facing down the man who’d killed five girls . . . Her breath hitched as she threw the dead bolt home and dropped the big metal bar into the brackets on either side of the door, barring herself in. It would take a SWAT team to get through that. She hoped. She slumped against the door. No other way in or out of the room, which meant she was trapped, but she had enough bottled water and food to last her and Prince for a week without rationing. There was even a small bathroom.

  She was safe.

  They were both safe.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Emma launched herself away from the door and scrambled to press against the wall farthest from it. She held her breath, listening with every fiber of her body.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  He’s tapping on the door the same way he must have tapped on the window so Lei would let him in.

  It’s not Travis.

  But it felt like Travis.

  “Prince.” Her voice came out so hoarse, it was barely above a whisper, but Prince heard her. He raced over and pressed against her side, his gaze trained on the door, his hackles raised.

  The killer is in the house.

  If she could breathe past the terror turning her lungs to concrete, she might laugh at the absurdity of the thought. Emma stared at the door, half sure that he’d burst through despite the precautions they’d taken.

  Lei.

  Lei wasn’t home, but she would be coming back. She’d walk into the house without realizing that there was danger.

  Move.

  Emma gave Prince one last squeeze and crawled to her desk. She pulled down the landline, her heart still trying to beat itself out of her chest. Two. Zero.

  Tap. Tap.

  She jumped, and her finger slid over the numbers. Emma gritted her teeth and started again. Two. Zero. Six.

  Taptaptaptap.

  She dropped the phone and shoved her fist against her mouth to contain a sob. He was right there. She pressed as hard against the wall as she could, her mind terrifyingly blank.

  If you curl into a ball and wait for it to end like you did last time, Lei will be hurt. She could be killed.

  She dragged in a breath. There was no other option than to pick up the phone and call the only person in this world who mattered to her. She’d hidden instead of fought before, and she was doing it again right now. She couldn’t let Lei walk into an attack.

  She picked up the phone, and this time she managed to dial Lei. Last Emma had heard, they were going into a part of the Cascades that didn’t have good cell service, so when Lei answered, Emma just froze for several long seconds.

  “Emma? Emma, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  Dots danced across her vision and her lungs shriveled up. “He’s in the house,” Emma gasped.

  Then the room went dark.

  Lei punched the speakerphone button and tossed her cell to Dante. “I’m here, Emma. I’m coming.” She floored it. “We’re fifteen minutes away.”

  Dante looked like he wanted to rip something apart, but she didn’t have time to tell him to focus on what mattered. That bastard was in the house with Emma. “Are you in the office or the safe room upstairs?”

  “The office.” Emma’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  This was her worst nightmare come to pass. Her fortress of a house had become a trap, and it’d been breached by that sick son of a bitch. They’d deal with how he got into the house once they knew she was safe. “We’re coming, Emma. Is Prince with you?” Her friend would lose it if something happened to her dog.

  “He’s here.”

  She saw their turn coming up and nearly sobbed in relief. Almost there. “We’re coming up the street. Five minutes.” Dante caught her eye, holding up his phone. “Dante is going to call reinforcements.”

  “Don’t hang up.”

  “I won’t.” She tore around the corner toward their driveway, nearly taking it on two wheels. Slow down. If you crash the car, you can’t help Emma. It didn’t matter w
hat logic said. Her best friend was in immediate danger, and she was too fucking far away. “Emma, talk to me.”

  “He stopped tapping.” A rustling, then her voice came through stronger. “Maybe he’s gone.”

  “Don’t you dare open that door. We are two minutes away.” She picked up speed, sending gravel flying. In the backseat, Saul yipped in distress, but she couldn’t pause to reassure him. If Emma opened that door and he was there . . . “Emma!”

  “I’m here.”

  They came around the last corner, and the house was in sight. “We’re here. Stay in the room until I call you. Don’t open it for anyone but me or Dante.”

  “Dante?” Something like amusement curled into her friend’s voice.

  “Yes, Dante.” She didn’t look at him as she threw the car into park. “He’s been with me for most of the day, so he’s obviously not the killer.” She grabbed the phone out of his hand and jumped out of the car. Saul tried to follow her, but she held up a hand. “Saul, hold.”

  He whined, looking at her with those doggy eyes, but she couldn’t guarantee his safety in the house. “We’ll be a few minutes, boy. You’re safest in the car.” He was a tracking dog. They’d practiced takedowns a little, but ultimately, Saul’s nature wasn’t to attack, even on command. He could do it in a pinch, but a gun worked so much better than putting her dog at risk. She paused to roll the windows down and lock the doors. Better safe than sorry.

  Dante was already at the door, his gun out. The door itself stood open, revealing a line of sight down the hallway and into the sitting room. There was no way in hell Emma would leave it open on her own, which meant the killer had walked through their goddamn front door. She drew her gun, trying to release the tension from her body. If she shot someone, she wanted it to be on purpose, not because she was so spooked she forgot all her training.

  Dante hesitated like he wanted to tell her to stay in the car, but he finally nodded as she took up a position on the other side of the opening. He held up three fingers and dropped them one at a time. Three. Two. One. Dante moved, stepping into the house and keeping his back to the wall closest to him. “Clear.” He spoke softly, the word falling between them in the stillness of the afternoon.