“She was special to me—not like the others. But she crossed me. Said she wanted to leave me. Letting her go just wasn’t in the cards,” he replied. His tone was as venomous as his expression. “The great thing ’bout women, though, is that they’re dispensable. I learned that while over in Nam. Learned how easy it is to kill there, too.…”
“So you just killed your recruiters when they wanted out and replaced them?”
He nodded. “They’re all replaceable, especially in these parts. Ain’t no shortage of girls in rough circumstances that need cash, willin’ to sell their friends out to get extra.”
My mind flashed back to his job offer the night of the double date from hell, and bile rose in my throat. Danielle hadn’t lied about working for Mr. Matthew. She’d just lied about what she’d done.
What he would have had me do, too.
“Well you fucked up this time because I’m not one of those girls. I’m high profile. I’ll be missed. And the feds are already on to you.”
“I don’t imagine that’ll be a problem,” he said with a confidence that shook mine to the core. “Didn’t help Sarah Woodley now, did it?” Ice ran down my spine. “She thought she could toy with me too—found out the hard way that you shouldn’t dangle a promise you ain’t willin’ to follow through on in front of a man.”
All the pieces finally fell into place. Sarah was his first kill—the result of toxic masculinity gone awry. The skeleton the AD had used to leverage Matthew into running the seedy sex operation. Matthew had buggered that murder up, and he knew it. He’d learned from that and gone to great lengths to make sure it never happened again. Until me.
“Regardless,” he continued, inching closer, “the AD will make sure this is all cleaned up once I’m done.”
“Killing you might be part of that cleanup, you know?”
“Maybe … but I know killing you most certainly is.”
I stared at him for a moment before realization tackled me hard. “The AD told you to go after me, not Shayna.… Why?”
His eerie smile widened. “Didn’t ask why. I’m a military man, Kylene. I do as I’m ordered. But you’re on his radar now, girl.” He laughed to himself, throwing his head back until he started coughing up the blood that rolled down his face and into his mouth. “He’s gonna make you wish you were never born.”
“As soon as the cops find you, you’re going to wish you’d never been.”
His eyes narrowed as he shifted his weight forward. “Like I said, they won’t be taking me alive.…”
I couldn’t let him die if he knew who the AD was, but I couldn’t afford to let him leave, either. I just needed a phone so I could call Dawson. Everything would be fine once he arrived.
I eased myself up the stairs backward so I could call the cavalry. But as I shifted my weight onto the next riser, it gave way. My leg sank in up to my knee and my arms went wide to catch whatever they could to brace myself. Seeing his chance, Matthew darted toward me. I fought as hard as I could to get up, but the second my leg was free, he was on me, throwing his body at mine.
I tried to train the gun on him, but it was too late. He was already reaching for it. It discharged twice in our struggle, hitting the ceiling, raining dust and wood chips down around us.
“You shoulda left when you had the chance,” he snarled, bloody spittle spattering my face.
I grunted as I tried to get rid of the gun before he turned it on me. With a twist and a jerk, I pulled it free of his grip. It fell down into the basement with a thud. When he turned to see where it had gone, I sliced his bloody face with an elbow—my favorite up-close maneuver. His head fell back and to the side. I tucked my knees up to my chest and shot them out with every ounce of strength I had left right into his gut, knocking him ass over teakettle down the stairs.
I rolled over and dragged my way up the steps with the singular focus of getting out of there. I barely heard the crackle of gravel outside the cabin as I burst through the basement door and into the main living space. Gunshots rang out behind me and I ducked while I crawled toward the front door. I flung it open and fell outside, where a fleet of sheriff’s department vehicles were parked everywhere, men in uniform jumping out of their cruisers and reaching for their sidearms.
My arms flew up in a flash.
“Gun!” one of the deputies shouted as bullets rang out from inside.
“Don’t shoot him!” I screamed as I scrambled forward. A man in a green shirt and tan pants grabbed me and hauled me to my feet before shoving me out of the way.
I turned just in time to see the gory sight of Matthew smiling at me, his weapon trained on my head. Then a barrage of guns began popping all around me, the sound nearly drowning out my cries. Silence fell as Matthew hit the ground only feet away from the cabin, his arms and legs askew. His chest had been peppered with bullets, those wounds taking both his life and the identity of the AD with them.
“Kylene,” a familiar voice called as strong arms hefted me up to my feet. Then Sheriff Higgins’ face was in mine, a look of terror contorting his features. “Good Lord, Kylene. I was scared we’d never find you.”
“I’m okay,” I said, trying my best to assure us both that was true. “I’m okay.…”
He looked up at the other officers and started barking orders, but his hands never left my shoulders. Whether it was for my benefit or his own, I wasn’t sure, but I felt better with them there, so I didn’t fuss. Then a deep, booming voice called out over the din and I wrenched my head to find the man it had come from. It wasn’t hard to spot Striker in a crowd.
“Striker!” I cried, running over to him. He scooped me up in his arms and hugged me so tight I thought he was the second man that day to try and kill me. “What are you doing here?”
He looked down at me like I’d lost my damn mind.
“The second I heard you were kidnapped, I was in my car. I was hardly going to leave these hillbillies with badges to track you down alone. I have resources they don’t. And I have far more motivation.…” He let his words trail off and let his eyes roam over me, assessing what kind of shape I was in. How damaged I was.
“Where’s Dawson?” I said under my breath.
“I don’t know but it doesn’t really matter because I’m pretty sure I’m going to rip him apart with my bare hands when he gets here.”
“This wasn’t his fault,” I said.
“The hell it wasn’t! He had no business involving you in this!”
I hesitated, wondering how much Striker knew of Dawson’s case.
“He didn’t have a choice. One of the girls reached out to me—would only talk to me.” Striker’s dark brown eyes narrowed. Then rage slowly filled them and he searched for Dawson.
“I know all about it. He told me everything when he called to tell me what had happened.…”
“There was no other way, Striker.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “Your father said that to me once. Now he’s in prison.”
“I get it, I get it, I’m my father’s daughter. I already know that. Why does everyone insist upon beating that fact to death?” I asked, anger moving in to squash the other emotions building within me.
“Because we don’t want you beaten to death because of it,” he snapped in that angry father tone that always startled me when my dad used it. Seems he wasn’t the only one who possessed it. Then he exhaled hard and hugged me again. “I’m sorry, Kylene. I’m just—I’m taking things out on you that I shouldn’t. Listen, I want you to come and sit down while I deal with this mess.” He ushered me to a fallen tree near one of the vehicles. “The ambulance should be here in a bit. I want them to check you out.” I absentmindedly nodded in agreement, knowing arguing would be in vain. “Good. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
As he disappeared into the crowd of deputies, the sound of more tires on leaves and gravel drew my attention. I looked up to see an unfamiliar car skidding to a stop near the train of parked vehicles. Not far behind it was a very f
amiliar truck.
Dawson was half out of a sedan before it came to a full stop. Garrett’s truck ground to a halt right behind him before AJ, Tabby, and Garrett jumped out.
“What in the hell are you kids doin’ here?” Sheriff Higgins yelled, blocking them from the scene. But Dawson had already gotten past him, headed right for me. I could hear Garrett say something about a call put out on the police scanner at the house, but I had a hard time focusing on anything else while I watched Dawson storm toward me, his angular features taut with what appeared to be anger. He stopped just short of me and pinned his arms tight to his sides. All I could see was heat in his stare and tension in his face.
“You’re supposed to be happy to see me,” I said softly, trying hard not to squirm under the weight of his gaze. The one I couldn’t read.
“I am.”
“But you look angry.…”
“I am.”
“You look like you want to kill someone.…”
His hands flexed wildly at his side as his eyes drifted from me to the dead body at the entrance to the cabin. When they returned to me, realization began to creep in.
“Because I do.”
For a moment, we stood silent, looking at each other. So much hung between us unsaid, but I didn’t think we needed to speak those things aloud. Maybe ever. What acknowledging them would do to us was more than I could handle. Dawson, though on occasions a thorn in my side, had become someone I could depend on. I didn’t want to mess that up by telling him how I’d nearly gotten myself killed.
“We should probably hug or something … if we’re still trying to keep your cover intact.”
Without a hint more of invitation, Dawson stepped forward and snatched me up in his arms, squeezing me against his chest. It felt warm and wonderful, and I had to try and push away from him before I fell apart in the safety it surrounded me with.
But his hold was unyielding.
“Kylene,” he said softly enough that no one else could hear him.
“Yes…”
He pushed me away just enough to look me over, assessing something I couldn’t understand. Something more than my well-being.
“Ky!” Garrett shouted, startling me away from Dawson’s hold. I tugged at the hem of my shirt like a kid who’d gotten caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Moments later he was practically diving at me—which had to have hurt him—so he too could wrap his arms around me like he’d never let go. Knowing Garrett, that was a solid possibility.
He said nothing, just held me tight, rocking back and forth slowly in a calming motion. My cheek was pressed to his chest, my face turned toward Dawson, whose tight expression had returned as he stared. Something in him looked like it was about to boil over. Then AJ and Tabby joined in the hug and blocked him from view.
“Garrett,” the sheriff shouted over at us. “You kids need to get out of here. This is a damn crime scene.”
“We’re leaving, Dad,” he said with a sigh, his arms still locked around me. The three of them slowly peeled away, AJ and Tabby still silent—not qualities either of them inherently possessed. My disappearance had shaken them badly if they were both at a loss for words.
Each of them gave me a sympathetic look as they walked back toward Garrett’s truck, AJ looking over his shoulder for the better part of the trip. Then I heard Sheriff Higgins say something to Dawson, and I pulled my attention back to the standoff brewing.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Dawson said, his voice low and cold and certain.
“What did you say, boy?” the sheriff asked, casting the young fed a sidelong glance.
“I said, I’m not going anywhere. I go where she goes. That’s nonnegotiable.”
Sheriff Higgins started toward us with a bit more speed than I was comfortable with. I stood slightly in front of Dawson, hoping to bar the way enough that he didn’t get his ass handed to him by the local cop, but I wasn’t holding my breath. Higgins looked pissed.
“Until I hear from your boss that we are no longer to support your undercover work,” the sheriff said under his breath, “you’ll do what I tell you to do, and that’s final.”
“No,” Dawson said, not budging an inch.
“Do you want me to arrest you for interfering with an investigation and disobeying an officer?” Sheriff Higgins said loudly enough for the other cops to hear. Striker, realizing Dawson was there, started toward us. I shook my head at him and he stopped, but I could tell that Dawson was in for a world of hurt when Striker finally got him alone.
“Do what you need to do,” Dawson replied, still unmoving.
“Maybe you should just go, I’ll meet you—”
“No,” he repeated, now staring down at me. “I’m not leaving you again.”
Those few words said so much.
“You never left me,” I said softly, hating that the sheriff was there to overhear. “Just go. Striker is here. There’s no danger anymore. I’m fine, really.…”
Dawson looked at me, then Striker, then me again. He seemed unsatisfied with my reply, but he nodded once and made his way over to his borrowed car. He looked back at me over his shoulder as he did, and though the light was fading through the trees, I thought I saw a glint of pain in his eyes. Then he climbed in and drove off.
“Kylene,” Striker said, walking over. “I need to take your initial statement. Then we’ll go to the precinct and you can walk us through everything. We need all the details … even if they’re hard to share.”
“I know how this works, Striker.”
“Of course you do,” he said gently. “I wish you didn’t.”
“I’ll be all right,” I said, looking over to the sheet-covered body lying near the cabin. “I could be a hell of a lot worse.”
FIFTY-TWO
The sheriff’s department was a total clusterfuck. A melee of deputies scurried around while Sheriff Higgins barked orders at them. Just as I expected, Garrett, AJ, Tabby, and Dawson sat waiting for me, all of them jumping up the second I walked in with Striker at my side. They made a move for me, but Striker held them off with an outstretched hand. Actually, he held off Garrett, Tabby, and AJ. Dawson, however, was having none of it.
He was at my side in a flash.
“You’re making this difficult,” Striker growled under his breath. “And you’re already on thin ice as it is.”
“If I’m supposed to keep my cover, then I’m going in with her. It kills two birds with one stone. I get briefed on everything that happened while I play the dutiful boyfriend.”
“You know I’m still here, right?” I asked as the two talked over the top of me.
“You good with this plan?” Striker asked. Apparently, he’d put together early on that Dawson and I had little love lost between us. But what he didn’t know—what he couldn’t have known—was that Dawson and I had fallen into some sort of bizarre partnership. A dysfunctional one, albeit, but a partnership nonetheless.
“It’s fine.”
“Then you two take a seat in there while I get the sheriff.” He opened the door to the interrogation room and gestured toward the metal chairs awaiting us. With a hard exhale, I stepped into the tiny room with mint-green-painted cinder block and took a seat.
“How did you find me?” I asked, my voice thin and shaky.
“Callahan. He gave us your last known location and the plate number of the car you got into. Without his help—”
“You wouldn’t have gotten to me in time.”
He nodded. Silence fell upon us for a moment.
“The ‘DG’ in his daybook stands for Daily Gazette. He’s been working with a reporter there—he suspected foul play in some of the other girls’ disappearances. He wanted to do something.” Suddenly Callahan’s words when he found me had context. If only I’d gotten in his car. “Apparently he sent you warnings—notes meant to scare you off.” I looked to Dawson and his hazel eyes flashed with anger, then cooled. I merely nodded in response. “This isn’t going to be fun, Kylene, but you
need to answer Sheriff’s questions honestly and directly.” His boyfriend tone was gone, sounding all federal agent in that moment. It distanced him somehow—I didn’t like it. “They just need to know what happened.”
“I know,” I said, sounding distant and slightly annoyed even though I wasn’t. He was too intense—too serious all of a sudden—and I longed for Garrett to come in and say something wildly inappropriate to make me laugh. Something about being a drama queen and the lengths I went to for attention. I would laugh and say he was just jealous because I stole his thunder.
I smiled to myself as I stared at the one-way mirror on the other side of the room while Dawson looked at me, undoubtedly trying to sort out what I found so amusing. It made me smile harder. Then the door swung open and the sheriff walked in with Striker.
My expression fell—hard.
“Okay, Kylene … let’s start from the beginning.”
* * *
By the time I said, “And that’s when I crawled out of the cabin right into you guys,” it had been well over two hours. It was late, and I was exhausted.
“I think that’s all we need, right, Sheriff?” Striker asked, though it was clear the question was rhetorical. We were done, plain and simple, so sayeth Striker.
I was relieved to be excused from what I could only describe as the worst oral exam in the history of oral exams. The questions were grueling and detailed, and demanded far more attention than I had left. Dawson sat by my side throughout the whole thing. I remember him grabbing my hand under the table when I recounted the part of my botched escape and what Matthew had planned to do to me. What he alluded to having done to many before me. Dawson stopped breathing when I talked about the struggle for Matthew’s gun. I knew because what had been a pounding pulse in his hand slowed dramatically. It was distracting, which turned out to be serendipitous, given that I didn’t want to relive that particular moment. Dawson had told me that guns gave you a false sense of security, and he was right.
Not that I planned to share that tidbit with him.
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