At her house.
He went straight to her front door. It was locked, of course, but he was ready. He worked on that lock, sweating a bit until he heard the soft snick that told him he’d gotten inside. He’d worn gloves this time, just in case. But when he actually got ready to kill Samantha…he’d take his gloves off. He liked to feel his victims beneath his hands.
They felt good.
He tiptoed into her house. He’d brought a knife with him; he’d discovered he could never leave the knife behind. It made him feel better, stronger to have it with him. Like a trusted friend. And it fit so well in his hand.
But it wasn’t in his hand then. He’d sheathed it and hidden it just inside the jacket he wore. A jacket and a big ball cap. Just in case.
Her house was eerily quiet. It smelled…kind of sweet. Like lavender or one of those other flowery scents women seemed to love. The place was perfectly neat. No dust. Everything arranged just so on her shelves. Samantha liked her order.
He’d be sure and bring chaos to her life.
He trailed his gloved fingers over her couch, then made his way down the narrow hallway to her bedroom. The bedcovers were rumpled. Not so organized here. Perhaps she’d left in a hurry.
He saw the indentions on both pillows. His eyes narrowed. He hadn’t realized just how close Samantha was to her partner. Rage billowed inside of him as he pulled out his knife. Maybe he’d just leave a few surprises for her. He’d cut her home to shreds and let her return to destruction. His knife hovered over her pillow.
Then he heard a creak. Faint, but his head whipped to the right, to the white door that was closed a few feet away. A closet?
His heart was racing. Sweat trickled down his back.
The creak came again.
It’s an old house. High on the bluff. Probably just settling. Just the wind…
But he found himself moving toward that door. The sound of his own breathing seemed far too loud as it heaved in and out of his lungs. He reached for the knob. The door squeaked as it opened.
Another room. Smaller, tighter, and…someone was in there.
A man stood with his back to him. A man with broad shoulders and dark hair. The guy wore a faded T-shirt and jeans, and he was—He was staring at some kind of map that had been hung on the wall.
The guy hadn’t heard him enter. He hadn’t moved so much as a muscle.
FBI? It could be Blake Gamble. It was hard to tell for certain from that angle, but the build was right. The hair was right.
He’s been sleeping with Samantha Dark. If I take him out, it will tear her apart to find his body. He’d never killed a man, and the guy was big, but…if he snuck up on him, he’d be able to take the fellow out.
Smiling, he lifted his knife and stepped forward.
“She’s been looking for me.” The man’s voice rang out, sounding amused. Almost happy. Pleased.
The knife trembled in his hand because… I know that voice. He’d heard it often enough. In his favorite classes. In their private talks.
“She’s gotten close a few times.” The man turned his head, and a faint smile curved his lips. “Almost close enough to touch.”
The face was wrong—thicker, fuller. The beard was wrong. The eyes were wrong, but that voice… That voice is his.
The man’s blue eyes drifted to the knife. “What a good weapon,” he murmured. “Tell me, Jason, why did you choose a knife?”
He knows me. It’s his voice. Hope bloomed inside of him, but he hardly dared believe. “It…it was your weapon. I wanted…wanted to—”
“To be like me?” He tilted his head and rubbed his chin. It was a move that Jason had seen his mentor make hundreds of times. In the classroom, his office. Whenever he was thinking or puzzling out a situation. “But you aren’t me. You’re powerful in your own right.”
Jason’s shoulders straightened. Yes, I am.
“So tell me how the knife makes you feel.”
Jason swallowed. “Strong. And…close to them. When I see the skin split open for me, it’s beautiful.” And he stood close enough so that he could feel the warmth of the blood. He needed that warmth.
His mentor nodded.
“You don’t look the same,” Jason blurted.
Laughter was his response. “When every cop in the country is looking for you, when the Feds put you on their most wanted list, a few things have to change.” His fingers slid over his beard. “I’ve gotten quite used to it now. But, soon enough, I’ll take on a new persona. I find that I can change to suit my situation.”
It was him. Jason could see it now, when he looked hard enough. “I’ve been searching for you,” he whispered. “When you left…” He lifted his hand—it had fisted around the handle of the knife—and pushed it to the side of his head, pressing against his temple. “Everything was messed up. I didn’t… I didn’t have anyone to talk to. The fucking shrink I was seeing wanted to put me back on the meds.”
“Well, that wouldn’t have been a good idea.” Dr. Latham—it’s Dr. Latham, I found him!—frowned. “Your mind gets too foggy when you’re on the medication. You’re not yourself then.”
No, no, he wasn’t. But no one else understood that. Only Dr. Latham. Dr. Latham had said that if he wanted to be the person he was always meant to be, then he had to stop the drugs. They were making it too hard for him to think. They stopped the urges, but…
Some urges aren’t meant to be stopped. Dr. Latham had been the one to tell him that. Dr. Latham had been the one to stop making him feel like a freak. His life had changed the day Dr. Latham picked him from out of a class of one hundred students—he’d been picked for a special psychology experiment—and everything had been different then.
Everything.
“I’m going to kill her,” Jason announced. Then he smiled, because that had to be the reason Dr. Latham was there. He’d come to kill Samantha Dark, too. “Samantha Dark will pay for what she did.”
Dr. Latham’s expression changed, not a fast change—nothing with him was ever fast. It was a change that started with his eyes—eyes that aren’t his. His gaze hardened. His jaw clenched. His cheeks seemed to go leaner. “Samantha did nothing to me.”
Jason backed up a step.
“I’m not in a prison, am I?” Dr. Latham asked him.
Jason shook his head. “No.”
“I’m not dead, am I?”
“No.” Though he’d feared Dr. Latham was. He’d feared that Samantha Dark had killed him and hidden the body.
“Samantha let me go. Samantha is not my enemy.” He paused. His eyes were nearly slits as he said, “She’s not your enemy. Do you understand that, Jason?”
No. Yes. Jason nodded.
“You’re making mistakes, Jason.”
No, he wasn’t. He’d killed two women, and the cops hadn’t caught him yet. He was too good.
“Samantha had an alarm here at the house. When you came in, it was amateur hour.”
He felt his cheeks redden.
“It took you ten minutes just to pick the lock on the front door. Even longer to realize that I was in here, waiting for you. I could have been Agent Gamble. I could have shot you on sight.”
Jason shook his head. “No…alarm.” It hadn’t sounded. There hadn’t been so much as a beep when the front door opened.
“I disabled it when I arrived. I arrived through the back door, by the way. I got in without leaving so much as a scratch on the lock, something I’m not sure we can say about your work.”
So there had been some scratches. The excitement he’d felt upon seeing Dr. Latham began to wane. This meeting was nothing like what he’d expected. He’s not proud of me. “I almost killed her,” he said, his shoulders sagging a little.
Dr. Latham blinked, and all emotion vanished from his eyes. �
�Yes, I heard about that. I caught a very interesting news segment this morning. Janice something or other on Central News Five had plenty to say.” He cocked his head. “Bombs are messy, don’t you think? I’ve never liked fire.”
He nodded quickly. “Yes, they are messy. And loud.” For some reason, he hadn’t expected that part. Loud and messy and not intimate at all. “I was just trying to pay her back. For what she did—for what I thought she did,” he amended quickly, “to you.”
Latham’s gaze raked him.
Jason’s right foot started to tap nervously.
“No one else cared when I vanished.” Latham’s voice was quiet. “You did. You’ve stopped being afraid of your urges, haven’t you, Jason?”
Jason’s heart raced. This was the mentor he’d missed. “Yes.” His foot stopped tapping.
“Good. You should embrace the urges. I don’t understand why people fight the dark. We all have it inside of us.”
Dr. Latham did. He’d learned that secret one night at Georgetown, when he’d gone into a classroom that should have been empty and he’d seen Dr. Latham dragging out a coed.
He’d had an option then. He could have helped the woman. She’d certainly been alive.
Or…
He’d held the door open for Latham.
“There are some people who need payback. They’ve quite screwed up my life.” Latham gave him another slow smile. “Will you help me, Jason?”
This, this was what he’d dreamed about. Latham being proud. Latham wanting him at his side. “I’d do anything for you.”
Latham’s attention shifted to the knife that Jason still held in his hand. “I think it’s time we got you the attention you deserve. The attacks are yours. The glory should be yours, too.”
Jason’s face ached because his smile was so big. His parents had been so wrong all of those years. His urges weren’t to be hidden. They weren’t to be fixed. They were going to bring him glory.
“So how about we get started?” Latham asked him. “I know just who your next target should be.”
* * *
WHEN THEY BROUGHT the body in, the dock was filled with people. News crews—including, of course, Janice—cops, the ME. And…
Hell. Samantha felt her shoulders stiffen. She recognized the man who stood right in the middle of all the reporters. The sunlight glinted off Bass’s bald head.
The executive assistant director had made it to town just in time to talk with the press.
“It’s all right.” Blake’s voice was low. “You don’t have to worry about him. I’ll deal with Bass.”
Nice words. But she did have to worry. “He’ll block me from the investigation.”
“He knew I was coming down to get you to consult. He approved it before I left DC.”
She glanced at him.
“Grudgingly,” Blake admitted. His lips thinned. “But look at what we’ve accomplished.”
Right. Look. Their victim was dead and their perp was a ghost. She’d nearly been taken out by his bomb, and wreckage littered the Fairhope shores. She could see where Bass would definitely be lining up to jump on the Samantha Dark bandwagon.
The boat eased closer to the dock. The captain steered the vessel perfectly. She knew dive teams would be going out again. Josh and his crew still had a lot of work to do.
A few moments later, she was stepping onto the dock. The ME and his staff came forward to assist with the removal of…Tammy.
The reporters turned as a swarm, and she wondered if they’d been listening to the marine radio during the search. That would explain why so many folks were on hand, just waiting to pounce.
She tried to slip through the crowd.
“Samantha Dark!”
Her body jerked. That would be Janice’s voice yelling for her.
“Samantha, can you confirm that the remains discovered today are those of Tammy White?” Janice had pushed her way through the mass on the dock and shoved a microphone toward Samantha’s face.
Someone is so ready for the big leagues. “I have no comment.”
Janice’s face tightened, just a bit. Probably as much as her cosmetic surgery would allow.
She felt Blake brush against her side. Strong, steady Blake. “The FBI will release a formal statement later this afternoon,” he said.
He seemed to have missed the fact that one member of the FBI—EAD Bass—already appeared to have been talking plenty with the reporters.
“Agent Gamble!” Bass made his way to them. “I need to speak with you.” His gaze dipped to Samantha. “Only you.”
He was shutting her out already. Not the biggest surprise. A muscle jerked in his jaw. His high forehead was already soaked with beads of sweat. Welcome to the South.
She smiled at him. “Bass. Long time no see.”
“Samantha.” He seemed to grit her name. “I need to have a meeting with my agents right now.” His voice was low, not carrying to the reporters, but there sure had been an emphasis on the word agents.
He was reminding her of what she was…and what she wasn’t.
She held his gaze. “And I have a profile to keep working on. One that will help you and your agents catch this asshole.” She gave him a grim nod. Then Samantha stepped around him and left Blake behind. She headed away from the crowd and to the very back of the parking lot. Lewis waited there, one hip propped on the side of his patrol car.
She forced herself to take one slow step at a time until she was in front of Lewis. His gaze raked over her face, then slid back to the group behind her. “Your former boss is a dick.”
A quick laugh bubbled out of her.
“Came into my station, throwing his weight around like he owned the freakin’ place.” His eyes had turned to slits as he stared behind her. “Man needs to be careful. You can’t go around making enemies left and right and not expect to get bitten in the ass one day.”
Maybe. But Bass had a lot of power and a lot of powerful friends. “I need to go home.” It would take hours for the ME to do his exam on Tammy. And Josh and his USERT group—they were heading back into the water. There was very little she could do right then…other than go and work on the profile.
“How many times are you going to run?”
Her spine stiffened. “I’m not running. I’m doing my job. Someone has to find the bastard out there.” Her words shot out, rapid-fire. “Someone has to—”
He patted her shoulder. “There it is. Good. Just wanted to make sure that fire was still there.” And his dark gaze zeroed in on her. “You never let anyone take that away, got it? You’re Samantha Dark. No one breaks you. No one undermines you. You make them eat shit, and you make them enjoy every bite.”
She could only shake her head. That was just typical Lewis. “What am I going to do with you?”
His face sobered. “You’ll tell me that I didn’t screw things up too badly with you. That while I wasn’t the best stand-in dad, I wasn’t the worst. That I made mistakes, but, God willing, I taught you to be strong, too.”
Her hand curled against his jaw. The faint stubble there rasped against her palm. Emotion nearly choked her. He’d always been in her corner. Always. When she’d come back to Fairhope, she’d had to physically stop the man from going up to DC to “kick ass and take down too many dumbass names” for her. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “You didn’t make any mistakes.” I did that all on my own. “And you were the best stand-in dad any girl could ever ask for.”
He blinked a few quick times and the moisture in his eyes disappeared. She’d seen him cry only once, at her father’s grave. She’d had no tears of her own that day—she’d been far too angry for tears, and she just remembered being grateful that someone had been able to cry for her dad.
Someone had needed to do it.
“G
et your ass in the car,” Lewis muttered. “You know I hate this emotional shit. I don’t even know why you’re doing this to me.”
Yes, he did. Because she loved him. Just as she knew he loved her. Samantha got her ass into the cruiser. He jumped behind the wheel, and a moment later, they were driving away.
* * *
BASS LOCKED HIS fingers around Blake’s shoulder in a grip that was too damn hard. Blake glanced down at the executive assistant director’s hand. “You’re gonna want to move that,” he ordered.
Bass had one big, fake smile on his face as he glanced at the reporters who were lingering. “I’ll have a news conference this evening at 5:00 p.m.” Wisely, he removed his hand from Blake’s body. “It will be at the police station, and I will update you all on the White case.”
That seemed to satisfy the group, for the moment. They’d all gotten plenty of sound bites, and the remaining reporters nearly ran for the parking lot, eager to get their clips out to the public.
Bass watched them all rush away. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He waited until the reporters were well clear of the scene before his gaze cut to Blake. “Tell me that you know what you’re doing.”
Easy enough. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“You convinced me that Samantha Dark could consult on the Wales case, and now we’re in this clusterfuck—”
“It’s not her fault.” It never had been. “She’s done nothing but assist with the investigation. Samantha has already created a profile for the man we’re after here. One that’s dead-on.”
Bass’s eyes narrowed.
“She thinks he’s a former student of Latham’s. I’ve contacted Georgetown, and I’ve got them pulling his class rosters. Samantha described the guy down to a fucking T. We’re looking for a kid who idolized Latham, a guy who—Samantha believes—left school after Latham vanished. The folks at Georgetown told me they’d have that list for me by 3:00 p.m.” He glanced at his watch. “So in less than an hour’s time, I’m betting Samantha will have exactly nailed the bastard for us.” His spine was ramrod straight. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to get back to the case.” He turned on his heel.
Kick A** Heroines Box Set: The UltimatumFatal AffairAfter the DarkBulletproof SEAL (The Guardian) Page 76
