Into the Night

by Cynthia Eden

  Susannah Kaiser was resting beneath the birch tree.

  “How did your assistant miss this?” Bowen demanded.

  “I—I don’t know...” Amelia was obviously flustered. “I’ll find Carlisle. We’ll ask. Maybe the equipment malfunctioned...”

  But they soon realized they couldn’t ask him. Because when they searched the area, Carlisle had vanished.

  * * *

  “IT’S HIM.”

  Macey stared at the picture of Dr. Lang’s assistant Carlisle Adams...and the picture they’d recovered of Wesley Kaiser.

  The hair was different...because, as Peter had told them, Wesley had dyed his blond hair.

  The face shape was a bit different...because, as Peter had said, Wesley had put on weight.

  He’d grown a beard, making his jaw appear stronger. He’d even dyed the beard black, too. He’d used contacts but... That is him.

  Carlisle was Wesley Kaiser.

  “We have an all-points bulletin out for him now,” Bowen said. He stood to her right, his gaze on Wesley/Carlisle.

  “He knew we were going to dig up Susannah.” That was why he’d disappeared in the mountains. “He knew, all along, exactly what Peter had done.” She shook her head. “The hate nails—that’s exactly what they were. With every death, it was about his sister. He was trying to show her to us.”

  Bowen raked a hand over his face.

  “He doesn’t fit our profile.” That was Tucker speaking. His low voice seemed to hang in the air. He was seated at the conference table, right next to Samantha. “Not exactly. This kid was a mess. Substance abuse, in and out of rehab. The last thing this guy seems to be is organized.”

  “We thought we were looking for an older, more seasoned killer. A practiced hunter.” Now Samantha spoke. “But this fellow...he’s young. He’s angry.”

  Macey turned to face them. “He actually does fit the profile, in certain ways, at least. He knows the area. Wesley grew up here. He has a desire for vengeance, I think that’s obvious. He’s highly intelligent.”

  “I swear,” Tucker muttered, “it’s like we’re looking at a perp with a split personality.”

  Yes, Macey could see what he meant. Organized at crime scenes, so very careful, but...

  Vengeance driven? Shadowed by addiction?

  “And the guy is currently AWOL,” Bowen added grimly. “And that fact alone tells me that we have big fucking trouble. Jonah is still missing, and now Wesley is in the wind.”

  Samantha tapped her fingers on the conference table. “Dr. Lang is in interrogation. Macey, I want you to have a run at her.”

  Macey nodded as she turned for the door. Exhaustion pulled at her, but, determinedly, Macey pushed it back. She had a job to do. She couldn’t afford weakness. Not right then.

  * * *

  JONAH TWISTED AGAINST the ropes that bound him. This should never have happened to him. He’d been tied up all damn day. He could barely feel his fingers. Were the FBI agents looking for him? Were they still searching?

  Shit, shit, shit. This screwed everything to hell. When he vanished, they would have immediately started digging into his life. And that meant...

  They went to my house. They’d know that he’d been hacking at the FBI. But they didn’t understand...he’d just wanted to see what made the other agents so special. He’d wanted to find out what he was doing wrong in his sessions with the shrink. How could he fix things if he didn’t understand the problem first?

  It was dark again. The light had vanished from the window. His stomach growled, reminding him that he’d been without food and water all day.

  But the ropes...they were starting to give. He could feel it. He’d worked on them long enough. Hard enough. He’d be able to break away soon.

  Soon.

  The door to his room opened. His prison. A low, long squeak, and his head lifted. He couldn’t see the face of the man before him, there was too much darkness, but he knew he was looking at the bastard who’d ruined everything for him.

  “They found my sister today,” the guy told him. And he sounded...happy. “Susannah is finally coming home.”

  * * *

  “I DIDN’T KNOW!” Dr. Amelia Lang jumped to her feet as soon as Macey stepped into the interrogation room. “I swear, I didn’t know he’d...he’d taken someone else’s name! He came to me as Carlisle. Carlisle Adams was the graduate assistant that had been approved to help me. I never had any reason to suspect otherwise—”

  “We can’t locate the real Carlisle,” Macey told her. “At this point, we fear he may be dead. It’s possible that Wesley murdered him so that he could take the other man’s identity.”

  Dr. Lang shook her head. “No, no, no...” Her body seemed to hunch in on itself.

  “When did Wesley start working with you?”

  Dr. Lang wrapped her arms around her midsection. “About...a month ago? Two? I needed help desperately for a project. He was like a godsend.” She rocked onto her toes. “You think he was involved in...all of this mess, don’t you? Curtis Zale, the police captain—”

  “About that,” Macey interrupted smoothly. “You told me before that you saw a man in a police uniform near Agent Murphy’s SUV. You told us that you only saw the back of that individual’s head.”

  Dr. Lang quickly nodded. “Yes, yes, he had dark hair and broad shoulders and—” Her eyes became saucers. “It could have been Carlisle—I mean, Wesley. I didn’t even realize...” She hurried back to the table and sat down, hard. She appeared shell-shocked. “The...the night that Captain Harwell died, Car—Wesley wasn’t at the motel. I went there, and I knocked on his door, but he didn’t answer. I just assumed he was sleeping, but now I have to think...he wasn’t there.”

  Because he’d been killing Henry Harwell? “Where was he when Daniel Haddox was killed?”

  Dr. Lang just blinked at her.

  Macey unclenched her back teeth and gave Dr. Lang the specific date of the crime.

  “I don’t know. We were on a small fall break at the university. I thought he was taking some time to relax, maybe he’d gone hiking in the mountains...” Her words trailed away. “When I got the call to come to Gatlinburg, I texted him. Told him that I needed him.” Her voice dropped. “And he was here within the hour.”

  Because he’d already been there? All along? “You know that FBI Agent Jonah Loxley is missing.”

  Dr. Lang’s hands twisted in her lap.

  “Where was Wesley last night? When Jonah went missing, where was he?”

  Dr. Lang could only shake her head. “I don’t know. I was dead tired. I passed out at the motel, and I don’t remember anything else.”

  Not helpful.

  “He could have been gone the whole night,” Dr. Lang whispered, “and I didn’t know.” She stared into Macey’s eyes and then said once more, as if ashamed, “I didn’t know.”

  I didn’t know that I was working side by side with a killer.

  Macey nodded and she slipped out of the room. She closed the door behind her, and then stood there for a moment, her shoulders slumping.

  “You need rest.”

  Samantha.

  Macey’s head whipped up.

  “How long has it been since you slept, Agent Night?”

  Macey stared at her, honestly not sure. It had been twenty-four hours since Jonah went missing and she had been awake at least—

  “I booked you a room at a lodge on the edge of town. A place that I’ve made sure is completely secure.” Samantha waved toward her. “Go there. Get some sleep. Because you are no good when you’re dead on your feet.”

  Bowen slipped into the hallway. He’d been in the room next to the interrogation area, and she knew he’d watched her interview with Dr. Lang through the one-way mirror on the right wall.

  “You, too, Bowen,” Samantha ordered him. “
Go get some rest. Tucker and I will take the night shift. If anything happens, if we get any news, I’ll call you both right away.”

  Since Macey could feel herself bottoming out, she nodded. Walking away from the case wasn’t easy, but it was either walk or, if she didn’t get some sleep soon...

  Fall.

  * * *

  SAMANTHA WATCHED AS Macey and Bowen filed out of the police station. Dr. Amelia Lang was still in the interrogation room, and Samantha knew she would be sending a patrol with the forensic geophysicist when Lang left the station.

  “You think Wesley will come after Dr. Lang?” Tucker asked as he drew near to her.

  “Not going to take any chances on that.” Dr. Lang had worked side by side with the missing man. Would he view her cooperation with the feds as some sort of betrayal? This guy seemed to judge everyone—and everything. And he finds us all lacking.

  “If this kid is the one we’re after—” Tucker exhaled and his voice dropped, carrying only to her ears “—then I was wrong about Jonah.”

  Her head turned and she met his gaze. “You were always against him joining our unit.”

  “He avoided the field like the plague. I talked to other agents. They all warned me of the same thing. He wasn’t the type to have your back.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “With our group, I couldn’t take the chance on having a weak link. We battle some of the most vicious criminals out there. A single hesitation is a death sentence.”

  Yes, it was.

  “But now I’m fucking second-guessing myself. With this news about Wesley Kaiser...” He exhaled. “I could see the kid wanting revenge. But hell, why not just go after Peter Carter directly? Why all of this other stuff? It doesn’t fit.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” She began to tap her right foot. “Your instincts have always been good. You know I respect them, and you.”

  “So did Jonah run?” Tucker demanded. “Does he know his ass is in the fire and he just vanished? I mean, maybe the perp didn’t take him. Maybe that’s why Bowen hasn’t gotten a call.”

  “Is that what your instincts say?”

  Slowly, he shook his head.

  “Mine, too,” she told him. Samantha exhaled on a slow sigh. “You know, I think you had a point earlier. When you said it was almost like our killer had a split personality.”

  His brow furrowed.

  “A split personality, or maybe we’re just looking at two distinct personalities. Maybe we always were.” She hurried toward the conference room. “Make sure that Dr. Lang has an escort tonight—and that the cop stays at her motel to keep watch. Then come with me. We need to go over those files again. Every one. Because we’ve missed something.”

  Or maybe not something, she realized, but someone.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THEY HAD CONNECTING rooms at the lodge. Bowen’s gaze slid to that connecting door—and he wondered if Macey had already crashed. She’d looked exhausted, and hell, he understood. They’d been running on fumes for the last few hours. All day, they’d barely eaten. They’d barely stopped.

  They’d hunted.

  And the man they’d needed—Wesley Kaiser—had been right there. Under their noses at the cabin. He’d just slipped away from them. Vanished.

  The guy knew the mountains. He knew the area too well. They’d searched but hadn’t been able to find him. The Smokies were just full of too many hiding spaces. The guy’s rented car had still been parked in the lot at the trailhead, and they’d left a guard there to see if he came out.

  But so far, there’d been no news on him.

  Bowen had showered, trying to wash the hell of the day off his skin and now, clad in a pair of loose sweats, he found himself walking toward the door that connected his room to Macey’s.

  His hand lifted to curl around the doorknob. He unlocked the door.

  She said I was her choice.

  But he hesitated. He—

  The door opened. Macey stood there, her hair wet around her shoulders, wearing a T-shirt with FBI written across the chest. The blue shirt ended at the middle of her thighs.

  “I kept waiting for you to come to me.” She looked at the hand he still had raised. “Guess I should have waited a few more minutes.”

  No, he never wanted her to wait—

  “I want to sleep with you.” A faint smile curved her lips, but the smile never reached her eyes. “This time, I’m not here asking you to fuck me. I just want to fall asleep in your arms and know that, for a few moments, I’m safe. Because that’s what you are to me, Bowen.” Her smile had faded. “You’re my safety in a storm.”

  He reached for her hand and his fingers feathered over her wrist. Without a word, he pulled her into his room and, with his hand still gentle on her, he guided her to his bed. She slipped beneath the covers, and he followed her, stopping only long enough to turn out the light.

  When he was in bed, she immediately rolled toward him. She put her head on his chest.

  “I like to hear your heartbeat,” Macey murmured. “So steady and strong. Just like you.” Then she gave a faint sigh. “No matter what you might say to the contrary, I know the truth about you. I’ve always known it.”

  His arm curled around her.

  “Tomorrow will be better, won’t it?” Macey asked him.

  “It will be better.” He would have given her any promise. Did she still not realize it? He’d make tomorrow better. For her. Anything, for her.

  He held her as her breathing slowed. As she slipped into slumber. And only then did he close his own eyes.

  It will be better.

  * * *

  JONAH RUSHED THROUGH the woods, tilting his head back as he stared up at the stars. He needed those fucking constellations right then. Because he had no clue where the hell he was. He’d escaped, and now he had to plan.

  Plan, plan.

  Because that little prick was going to come after him again.

  I’ve got to stop him.

  But first, first he had to stay alive.

  His gaze frantically scanned the stars overhead. When he’d been a kid, his dad had told him all about the constellations.

  Look at Orion’s Belt, son. See it up there? One of the brightest patterns in the sky. Alnilam, Mintaka and Alnitak. Those are the ones that gleam up there in his belt. Orion, see, he was a great hunter. So powerful. It’s important to be powerful, son. Because the weak...the weak will always be prey to everyone else.

  Jonah’s body shook as he tried to banish his father’s voice from his head. He didn’t need those memories. Didn’t need the shit his father had tried to teach him.

  He didn’t need any of it.

  He looked down at his hands, and...for just a moment, he noticed...there’s blood on my hands.

  He staggered back, then realized, the blood...right, right. It was just coming from his wrists. He’d struggled against that rope for so long that his wrists had started bleeding. That was why he had blood there.

  No other reason.

  The weak will always be prey to everyone else.

  He surged forward. He wasn’t weak. He’d proved that, over and over again. He’d get out of those woods. He’d find Macey. He’d stop the freak with the nails.

  I’m. Not. Weak.

  * * *

  THE LIGHT WAS in her eyes, blinding her. Macey couldn’t see past that too bright light. She was strapped onto the operating room table, but it wasn’t the straps that held her immobile.

  He’d drugged her.

  “I could stare into your eyes forever.” His rumbling voice came from behind the light. “So unusual, but then, you realize just how special you are, right, Dr. Night?”

  She couldn’t talk. He’d gagged her. They were in the basement of the hospital, in a wing that hadn’t been used for years. Or at least, she’d thought it hadn’t been used. Sh
e’d been wrong. About so many things.

  “Red hair is always rare, but to find a redhead with heterochromia...it’s like I hit the jackpot.”

  A tear leaked from her eye.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve made sure that you will feel everything that happens to you. I just—well, the drugs were to make sure that you wouldn’t fight back. That’s all. Not to impair the experience for you. Fighting back just ruins everything. I know what I’m talking about, believe me.” He sighed. “I had a few patients early on—they were special like you. Well, not quite like you, but I think you get the idea. They fought and things got messy.”

  A whimper sounded behind her gag because he’d just taken his scalpel and cut her on the left arm, a long, slow slice from her inner wrist all the way up to her elbow.

  “How was that?” he asked her.

  It hurt. She was in hell. And she was staring at the devil.

  “I’ll start slowly, just so you know what’s going to happen.” He’d moved around the table, going to her right side now. “I keep my slices light at first. I like to see how the patient reacts to the pain stimulus.”

  She wasn’t a patient. Nothing was wrong with her. She just wanted him to stop!

  But he’d sliced her again. A mirror image of the wound he’d given to her before, a slice on her right arm that began at her inner wrist and slid all the way up to her elbow.

  “Later, the slices will get deeper. I have a gift with the scalpel, haven’t you heard?” He laughed. He was laughing at her pain. Laughing at her horror. Laughing at her.

  “Every time I work on a patient, I wonder...what is it like without the anesthesia?”

  Sick freak.

  “But not just any patient works for me. I need the special ones.” He moved toward her face and she knew he was going to slice her again. He lifted the scalpel and pressed it to her cheek.

  The fingers on her right hand jerked.

  “You and I are going to have so much fun, and those beautiful eyes of yours will show me everything that you feel.” He paused a moment. “I’ll be taking those eyes before I’m done.”