Watching Their Steps

by Alana Terry

  “It’s my job to get to know people.”

  For some strange reason, his words made her feel deflated. It was ridiculous. Samantha knew that. She knew Quinn was only doing his job. So why did her emotions take a nose dive when he confirmed that?

  “I like learning how people think, what makes them tick, what’s shaped them into the person they are today,” he continued.

  Samantha nodded, determined not to show her disappointment. “I get that.”

  His gaze connected with hers. “But I do think you’re a remarkable person, Samantha. And I don’t say that to just anyone.”

  Heat filled her cheeks. Good heat. Heat that made her feel alive and warm—two things she couldn’t say she always felt. But it was all ridiculous. How could she even care about things like that when there was a killer out there?

  “This is a good burger,” Quinn told her before taking another bite.

  “I told you it was.”

  He stared out the window a moment, not saying anything.

  A storm brewed in her gut as she realized what she needed to say, as an idea pressed on her until she couldn’t deny it anymore. Quinn might think she was crazy. She could be wrong, and this could be a wild goose chase.

  But she had to say it. “I think I know the killer.”

  His gaze jerked to her and he lowered his burger. “Why do you say that, Samantha?”

  “My gut.”

  “Talk to me.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. But it’s the only thing that makes sense. There’s nothing I could have said to this man while in captivity that would have changed his mind and caused him to release me. So I either reminded him of someone he cared about or he did care about me.”

  “It sounds plausible. Any guesses who it might be? Talk to me. Not as a cop. Just talk, like you’re having dinner with a friend.”

  Her gut twisted with hesitation, and her hamburger didn’t seem as tasty as it had only seconds ago. “And if I’m wrong?”

  “You’re just theorizing. There’s no right or wrong when you’re brainstorming. It’s just ideas.”

  She drew in a few deep breaths, trying to temper her thoughts. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about. The fact that I know him is the only thing that makes sense.”

  He leaned closer, pushing his food aside. “Let me tell you this to start you off. Aaron has an alibi. It wasn’t him. He’s been working a twelve-hour shift, and several people have verified that he’s been with them the whole time.”

  Samantha nodded somberly at the news. She hadn’t wanted it to be Aaron. Yet she had. She just wanted this guy stopped. “Okay.”

  “Who else might have taken an unusual interest in you?”

  Hank’s image came to mind. She hesitated to say his name. But what if her hesitancy led to someone else dying? “I’ve always suspected my boss, Hank, might like me.”

  Guilt pounded at her as soon as the words left her lips.

  “Tell me about him.”

  “That night I was abducted I ran into him at the pharmacy. He was three years ahead of me in high school, so I knew him, but not well.”

  “What did he talk to you about that night?”

  “General chitchat. There was a lawsuit against his nonprofit after one of the women he’d treated ended up committing suicide. The law firm I had been working with was representing him, and he was concerned about potential legal action. I couldn’t really talk to him about it, so I just listened.”

  “And then?”

  “I was getting nervous because we talked longer than I thought, and it was getting dark outside.”

  “And your mom needed her inhaler, right?”

  She nodded. “That’s right. It wasn’t an emergency, but I wanted to have an inhaler on hand. When she gets stressed, it affects her breathing. I didn’t want to take any chances. But I’d promised her I’d be back before dark.”

  “Go on.”

  “Hank offered to give me a ride back, but I told him no. And then . . .” She didn’t have to finish because Quinn knew. Then the Grim Wrecker had abducted her.

  “Now you work for Hank?” Quinn asked.

  “That’s right. When I needed a change, he was the first person I thought about. He was—is—doing a good work.”

  “What’s he like? Other than the fact he likes to help people.”

  She picked up a fry, thought about eating it, but then changed her mind and placed it back on her plate. “He’s kind of shy, actually. A little quiet and awkward. He doesn’t really care a lot about money. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even always get paid. It’s all about fundraising and grants.”

  “He’s single?”

  “That’s right. Never been married, to my knowledge.”

  She shifted as her thoughts went somewhere she hadn’t wanted them to go.

  “What is it?” Quinn asked.

  “There’s one other person who keeps popping into my mind.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Her eyes met his. “Frost.”

  QUINN STARED AT SAMANTHA, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. “Frost? Agent Frost?”

  She pressed her lips together and looked out the window again.

  “I have a strong suspicion about why he doesn’t like me,” she started, her voice strained.

  “Okay.”

  “There are privacy reasons I’m not supposed to bring this up . . .”

  “If you need to say it, then you should. Any little detail could help us right now.”

  She swallowed hard and kept her gaze averted. “His wife came to the women’s shelter. I helped her start a new life somewhere else.”

  Quinn’s heart pounded in his ears at her announcement. “Is that right?”

  “This is all against the privacy policies we have. But since there’s a serial killer out there and since you’re FBI, then . . . I can’t keep it to myself anymore.” Her eyes finally met his, and he saw the tug-of-war there.

  “Does Frost know that you were involved?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Frost lives about an hour and a half from here. His wife purposefully came to us because we were away from her hometown and his connections there. I suspect that Frost knows that I know.”

  “So that would explain some of his hostility toward you.” His stomach churned at the thought.

  “Yes, it would.”

  “As despicable as that is, it doesn’t make him a serial killer.”

  A touch of confidence returned to her eyes. “I know. It does shows his propensity to violence. When the Grim Wrecker called me, I also noticed that Frost was on the phone in the distance. Maybe he somehow muffled the other sounds around him. I don’t know.”

  He tried to recall that memory. “I believe I’d asked him to check out some things for me.”

  “That’s also true. But he would be in the perfect position to misdirect the FBI.”

  He let out a breath as he let that sink in. “I don’t want to believe that’s true.”

  “It’s just a theory. One that I’m sharing . . . like I’m talking to a friend.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

  He leaned back and thought about it another minute. The profile he’d put together was that of a person who was rejected, awkward, but who blended in. Maybe they did have some personal connection to the town. They definitely had some kind of connection to Samantha.

  Could Frost be their guy? It was a possibility he needed to keep in mind.

  “Let’s keep this between us,” he said. “Until we know something for sure, we don’t want to tip anyone off.”

  Chapter 15

  AS THEY LEFT THE RESTAURANT, Samantha texted Elise and told her she was on her way home. Elise texted back that she’d just left work and should get there about the same time. Samantha looked forward to spending some time with her friend away from all this craziness.

  “I know it’s been a rough day,” Quinn said.

  “It has been. I’d hoped all of that . . . w
ould be for a purpose. That it would do some good. Instead, nothing changed. He still killed her.”

  “We think he set up Aaron, knowing that he was going to dump the body during that time. He must have called in the clue so we would investigate Aaron.”

  “So he’s not dumb. He’d be pretty calculated.”

  “He is.”

  “So what is he planning next?” Samantha stared out the window. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She’d hoped this would all end quickly.

  A few minutes of silence passed.

  Finally, Samantha cleared her throat. “He broke his MO. I mean, it’s only been a day and Mandy is already dead and her body has been discovered. That’s never happened before.”

  “You’re correct.”

  “What does that mean? Why is he mixing things up?”

  “We’re not sure. Maybe he feels more confident. It could be the opposite. Maybe he fears being caught, and he wants to get rid of victims quickly. “

  “Why target Aaron?” she continued, questions colliding in her head.

  “That’s something else we don’t know.”

  “There are too many uncertainties right now. I don’t like this.”

  “I know. But we’re working as hard as we can. We have some of the best people in the agency on it.”

  She glanced at him. “Why’d you come here?”

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “You said you were in Houston, and now you’re out here in the mountains of Virginia. Why?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted a change.”

  “Don’t most agents want to work their way up to bigger cities instead of the opposite?”

  “I’m from Pennsylvania, and I wanted to be closer to home. Closer to my younger brother.”

  She supposed that explanation made sense.

  “Our parents were murdered in a home invasion when we were teenagers,” he continued.

  “I’m so sorry.” But now it made sense why he seemed so compassionate. He understood, in his own way, what she was going through.

  Before they had time to talk anymore, Samantha spotted a car on the side of the road.

  Her stomach sank, and it felt like the life drained from her.

  “Quinn, that’s Elise’s car.”

  Chapter 16

  QUINN PULLED TO A STOP, told Samantha to stay put, and he carefully exited his vehicle. He drew his gun as he approached the car at the side of the road.

  He expected the worst. But he desperately hoped he was wrong.

  As he rounded the car, he glanced inside. It was empty. There on the front seat was a generic key.

  His stomach sank. He grabbed his phone and called for backup. Samantha had only talked to her friend thirty minutes ago. If the Grim Wrecker had grabbed Elise, they couldn’t be but so far away. All the roads leading this way needed to be barricaded. They had to catch him.

  As soon as he hit End, Samantha climbed from the car. She froze. Her eyes met his.

  The truth washed over her.

  She let out a guttural scream and bent over, almost as if physical pain had incapacitated her.

  Quinn reached her in six strides and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “We’re blocking the roads off,” he said. “Help is on the way. The Grim Wrecker just did this. It’s not too late to catch him.”

  “But you won’t.” Her voice broke, and her hand covered her mouth. “This guy always slips away. He’s always one step ahead.”

  He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. Instead, he said, “There’s always hope.”

  “Oh, Elise.” Samantha let out another sob.

  The sound squeezed Quinn’s heart, and he pulled her into a hug. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through.

  They had to put an end to this before anyone else died. Somehow. Some way.

  THREE HOURS LATER, Samantha was still at the scene on the side of the road as the police searched for answers to no avail.

  She huddled in Quinn’s car, absorbing the warmth flowing through the vents. Someone had brought her some coffee and had offered a blanket—as if she’d been a victim.

  And her mind reeled as she pictured what Elise must be going through right now.

  Samantha had read the police reports. She knew what the other victims had endured. Things that no one should have to go through. Burn marks. Puncture wounds. Dehydration.

  Her friend didn’t deserve this.

  And it was Samantha’s fault.

  For some reason, the Grim Wrecker seemed to be focusing his energies around Samantha. It wasn’t acceptable. Other people shouldn’t suffer because of her.

  She rested her head on her hands again, a pounding headache trying to paralyze her.

  Please, Lord, stop this. I know You have the power to do it. One word from You, and this man’s rampage would end.

  Yet they lived in a fallen world, one where man had freewill to do what he wanted.

  A world that her hope was never supposed to be in. The struggles they had here would one day be dim compared to what waited beyond.

  She straightened and forced down another sip of coffee. She needed to stay alert. In the distance, she could see the agents clustered together. As her gaze drifted to Quinn, her muscles softened.

  The man had been nothing but kind. She wasn’t sure if that was just part of his job or if he was sincere. She hoped he was sincere in his compassion. It was so hard to trust people sometimes, though.

  Her phone buzzed.

  Her heart lurched when she looked at the screen and saw an unknown number.

  Could it be . . .?

  She flung the door open and motioned to Quinn. He wasn’t watching. She searched for Frost even, but he was on the edge of the woods, his phone to his ear. She was going to have to do this on her own.

  With trembling hands, she hit Answer.

  Heavy breathing hit her ears. It was him. The Grim Wrecker. Again.

  She was sure of it.

  She sank back into the seat, afraid she might pass out.

  “Let her go,” she said, her throat achy with each word. “Please. She’s my best friend. She doesn’t deserve this.”

  Just more breathing.

  “I’ll do anything to save my friend. Take me instead of her. We can trade.”

  Quinn slipped inside the car as her sentences faded. His eyes widened with alarm, concern. But she wouldn’t take the words back.

  She was desperate. The Grim Wrecker hadn’t killed her three years ago. Maybe if Samantha traded herself for Elise, they could both live today.

  “Please. I mean it,” she finished, looking away from Quinn.

  Before she could say anything else, the line went dead.

  And so did her hope of finding Elise.

  Chapter 17

  SAMANTHA STARED AT the phone, feeling halfway numb inside. Had she blown her chance to save her friend? Should she have tried a different approach? The what-ifs ran through her mind until her head swirled.

  “What were you thinking?” Quinn muttered. “You offered yourself for Elise?”

  “I was thinking that I don’t want my friend to suffer.”

  His gaze burned into hers. “This guy is crazy, Samantha. He might just take you up on your offer. He might put you through a living nightmare again.”

  She raised her chin, knowing how it might have looked foolish from the outside looking in. But she’d meant her words. “Good. I’d rather it be me than Elise.”

  Quinn’s scowl deepened. “He may not be as gracious if he captures you again.”

  “Quinn—” She stopped herself. What was she going to say? She wasn’t even sure. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know. I just want this to end. I’m not sure which is worse—living or dying.”

  “Samantha . . .” He lowered his voice. “I know what you went through with him.”

  Her cheeks flushed. She rarely talked about it. Most of her friends—even Elise—didn’t know all the details. But, of course, Quinn
had access to her files. He knew nearly as much as she did about her ordeal.

  Knew she’d been starved. Knew her wrists and ankles were raw from her bindings. Knew her face was bloody from trying to rub her mask off. Knew the psychological torture she’d endured.

  A tear escaped down her cheek. Quinn touched her arm, and, in the next instant, she was in his arms again. His strong, capable arms. Strong enough to hold up Mount Everest.

  “I know you’re scared,” he murmured. “We’re doing everything we can.”

  But were they? Was she? There had to be something else she could do.

  She straightened as an idea came to mind. “I want to go back to the cabin where I was held. Just you and me.”

  He pulled back and squinted, doing that familiar examination of her face. “Why?”

  “I want to remember. The answers are there. I just know it.”

  “Samantha . . .”

  “Please.”

  Quinn stared at her another minute before nodding. “Okay. If you’re sure you can handle it.”

  “I can.” Then she shook her head and corrected herself. “I will.”

  SAMANTHA’S PALMS WERE sweaty when they pulled up to the cabin again. She’d been here before, so she’d already experienced the initial shock of seeing this place.

  Yet it felt like she hadn’t. Being here felt new—frighteningly so.

  Quinn held her elbow as they climbed the steps. Her throat tightened as the screen door screeched. As the bland brown door whooshed. As she stepped into the house of horrors.

  Quinn’s hand remained on her arm, and she was thankful for it. She wasn’t sure how her body would react to all this. Part of her wanted to flee, to forget the sucker punch this place gave her. But she couldn’t.

  She had to face her fears head-on.

  With just her and Quinn here, she’d be able to experience the cabin as it was. Quiet. Still. Without the chatter and clatter of multiple officers and CSIs.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Quinn muttered. “You have nothing to prove. Don’t let Frost get to you.”

  “Yes, yes, I do have to do this.”