Kenton nodded. “From the looks of things, I’d say the serial had a gun on Jeremy the entire time. Where I found the marks, that position would have given him a perfect view of the house.” He gave a grim nod. “I’ve got a crime scene unit out there now.”
Luke felt his heart spike. “Did you find something?”
“Ashes, could be from a cigarette.” A faint shrug. “Saw ’em on the bent grass. No cigarette butts, that would have been too easy.”
Because they possibly could have gotten DNA from those.
“No way did this guy just start killing,” Luke said. No way. With this level of violence? No. People didn’t just wake up one day and decide to become serials. The instinct to kill was there, often showing first when the perp was just a kid. When he decided to see what the family pet’s insides looked like.
“No, he’s been leading up to this for a long time.” Monica rubbed her temple. “But he might have been too organized to get caught when he started his games.”
Games. Interesting word for murder.
“I just don’t get it.…” Davis swiped a hand over his sweaty brow. “Why didn’t Jones say somethin’? Why did he—”
“I’m betting the killer probably told him that if he hesitated, or if Jones tried to warn the agents, he’d put a bullet in the back of his head. With that position just north of the house, if you had a scope on a rifle, it would have been like shooting fish in a damn barrel.”
Davis swallowed and seemed to pale.
“And because we’re dealing with a sadistic bastard who likes to play,” Luke’s eyes narrowed, “I bet he also told him that if he took us out, he’d live.” He gave Jones a chance. Kill the agents, get to live.
“That was a lie, though,” Monica said. “Because this perp doesn’t let his victims live.”
No, he didn’t. Poor Laura Billings was proof of that. She was in the room with them, locked up in the cold, just a few feet away.
He tied her to the chair, nice and tight. Then he watched as Special Agent Samantha Kennedy’s head sagged forward. She’d be out for a while.
No playtime. Not yet. But soon.
Would she cry like the others? Break as easily? Beg?
He’d bet she would.
They always broke.
Always.
How to break his prey—that had been his first lesson. The first of many he’d learned. And he’d been a very fast learner.
“Samantha,” he whispered her name. He already knew everything about her, everything that mattered. She wasn’t the only one who knew how to hack into a computer system.
Learn the prey to break the prey.
Some people—their fears were right there, on the surface. Just begging to be seen, exploited.
Others… like Davenport… they hid their fears. Pretended to be strong when really they were weak and scared inside.
He could make anyone afraid. He could make anyone beg.
For f**king years, he’d tried to be normal. Tried to fit into the perfect mold that people wanted, then he’d realized there was no point to being normal.
And he was better than normal.
He picked up the knife, spun it around in his hand, letting the blade just brush his fingertips. She was kinda pretty. He lifted the knife, let the blade ease down her cheek.
Patty had been pretty, too. At first. When he’d finished working on sweet Patty, she’d been f**king beautiful.
The blade nicked Sam’s cheek, and a drop of blood slid down her face. “I’ll make you beautiful, too,” he promised her. Death had a way of doing that. When she was swollen and the vessels in her eyes burst and her lips turned blue… Samantha Kennedy would be just as damn gorgeous as Patty.
Just as lovely as all the others.
The bloody tip of the knife slipped down her neck, smearing blood. Then down lower, right between her br**sts.
His jaw locked. Just wasn’t any damn fun when they were asleep. She couldn’t beg when she was out cold.
His gaze lifted, and he stared out the window. The knife wasn’t for her, anyway, even if he liked the feel of the blade in his hand.
No, Sam didn’t fear the knife. A smile lifted his lips. But he knew what she did fear.
“Hank!” A woman bustled inside, small with curly red hair. The Sheriff’s assistant, Lily, the woman who also happened to be his wife. “I, uh,” a quick look at the covered sheet, then away. “We’ve got a problem.”
Oh, hell. Luke really didn’t like the sound of that. From the look on Monica’s face, neither did she.
“Tell the press no story today.” Davis crossed his arms. “I don’t care how pissy that SOB from Channel 5 gets, you just tell him—”
“The…” Now a nervous look Luke’s way. He tried to look harmless as he stared back at her. She cleared her throat. “The agent’s missing.”
Davis’s eyes narrowed. “Lee’s gone to get her. He’ll be bringing her in from Gulfport in about half an hour.”
“Excuse me.” Luke lifted a brow and waited for the sheriff to glance his way. “Mind telling me just who’s coming in?” Yeah, another agent, he got that part. But why hadn’t he known?
The sheriff frowned. “Didn’t you get the message I left at the motel?”
“No.” And he’d be checking in with that desk clerk the minute he got back to the motel.
“I talked to Hyde last night. We found some computers at Jeremy’s place. Hyde wanted to send down an agent, Kennedy, to work on the equipment.”
“Samantha,” Monica said.
“Yeah, yeah, Samantha Kennedy. She was due to come in this morning. Her flight was arriving at—” He shot a quick glance at Lily.
“Seven,” she whispered.
“Seven,” he said with a nod. “I sent Lee out there to get her.” A brief pause. “Told Hyde I’d let you know. I thought you’d get the message about the agent—”
“And she’s not there, Hank,” Lily told him, voice tight. Her hands twisted in front of her. “Lee’s on the phone. The plane landed. Some folks saw her get off, but she’s gone now.”
“Gone where?” Kenton barked.
Because they were talking about one of their own. Missing.
“How the hell do I know?” Davis’s hair was crap now as his fingers ran through it once more. “She must’ve gotten a taxi or a rental or—”
Monica whipped out her phone. Punched in the numbers. Fast. Silence filled the room. Her eyes met Luke’s. “She’s not answering.”