CHAPTER 32

Front Royal, Virginia

6:19 A . M .

Temperature: 88 degrees


MAC WOKE FIRST, the tinny bleat of his cell phone penetrating his deep slumber. He had a moment of disorientation, trying to place the dimly lit room with its sagging bed and stale-smelling air. Then he registered Kimberly, still curled up soft and snug in the crook of his arm, and the rest of the evening came back to him.

He moved quickly now, not wanting to wake her. He slid his right arm from beneath her head, felt the resulting tingle shoot up from his elbow as various nerve endings fired to life, and swallowed a rueful curse. He shook out his hand, realizing now he didn’t know where his phone was. He had a vague memory of throwing it across the room during the night. Frankly, given his recent treatment of his phone, it was a miracle it was working at all.

He dropped to the floor, scrambling on all fours until he finally came up with the palm-sized object. He flipped it open, just as it was ringing for the fourth time.

“Special Agent McCormack here.” He glanced at the bed. Kimberly still hadn’t stirred.

“Took you long enough,” a distinctly male voice said.

Mac relaxed immediately. No more distorted voices to mess with his head. This was simply his boss, Special Agent in Charge Lee Grogen. “Been a long night,” Mac replied.

“Successful?”

“Not especially.” Mac filled in the details of the past twelve hours. Grogen listened without interruption.

“It’s definitely him then?”

“No doubt in my mind. Of course, for an official opinion you’d have to consult the Feds. They probably think it’s a terrorist act.”

“You sound bitter, Mac.”

“Three hours of sleep will do that to a guy. Now, best we can tell, we got two more girls out there. Pardon my French, but fuck the Feds. I have some leads, and I’m goin’ after them.”

“And I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. In fact, I’m going to pretend we’re talking about fishing.” Grogen sighed. “Officially speaking, Mac, there’s nothing I can offer you. My boss can press their boss for cooperation, but given that it’s the feebies…”

“We’re frozen out.”

“Probably. At least they’ll refer to us one day-at the press conference when they announce their big catch, we’ll be the local yokels who had a shot at the guy the first time around and couldn’t get the job done. You know the drill.”

“I can’t give up,” Mac said quietly.

“Don’t let me come between a man and some fishing,” Grogen said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“We have another complication.”

“Uh oh.” Mac rubbed his hand over his face. He was already tired again and so far he’d only been awake ten minutes. “What’s up?”

“Nora Ray Watts.”

“Huh?”

“She called me in the middle of the night. She wants to talk to you. She claims she has information about the case and she’ll only give it to you, in person. Mac, she knew two girls were dead.”

“Has there been something in the papers?”

“Not a peep. Mac, I didn’t even know two girls were dead until ten minutes ago when I called you. Frankly, I’m a little freaked out.”

“He’s contacted her,” Mac murmured.

“It’s possible.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Writing his letters isn’t enough anymore. Calling me is probably just frustrating him. Hell, I hope so. So now he’s contacting a past victim… Son of a bitch!”

“What do you want to do?”

“I can’t go back to Atlanta. I don’t have time.”

“I told Nora Ray you were out of town.”

“And?”

“And she said she would come to you. In all honesty, Mac, I think that’s what she wants.”

Mac blinked his eyes, dumbfounded. After everything Nora Ray had been through. To drag her back into this mess. A civilian. A victim. “No,” he said gruffly.

His supervisor was quiet.

“No way,” Mac said again. “She doesn’t deserve this. He messed with her life once already. Now it’s time for her to be free of him, to heal and be with her family. Hell, to forget this ever happened.”

“I don’t think that’s working for her.”

“I can’t protect her, Lee! I don’t know where this guy is, I don’t know where he’s gonna strike next. It’s a long story, but I’ve been working with a former FBI profiler, and he thinks the killer may be keeping tabs on us.”

“I’ll tell her that.”

“Damn right!”

“And if she still wants to come?”

“She’s a fool!”

“Mac, if she knows something, if she has a lead…”

Mac hung his head. He raked his hand through his hair. God, there were times he hated his job. “I can meet her at the airport in Richmond,” he said at last. “Sooner versus later. Day’s young and a lot can happen yet.”

“I’ll be in touch. And Mac-good luck fishing.”

Mac flipped his phone shut. He rested his forehead against the cool silver shape. What a mess. He should go back to bed. Or at the very least, crawl back into a shower. When he got up the second time, maybe this day would make more sense.

But the fuzz was already clearing. He was thinking of water and rice, and obscure clues that had to lead to real and terrible places. They had been lucky to sleep at all last night. God knows when they’d sleep again.

He rose and crossed to the bed. Kimberly’s arms were wrapped around her waist, her body held tightly together, as if she were protecting herself even when asleep. He sat down on the edge of the mattress. He touched the curve of her jaw with his thumb, then feathered back her short, dusty-blond hair. She didn’t stir.

She looked more vulnerable in sleep, her fine features delicate and even a trace fragile. He didn’t let the image fool him. A guy could spend years just working on learning the curve of her smile. And still, one day, she’d walk out the door and never look back. Probably think she’d done him a favor.

In her world, guys like him didn’t fall for girls like her. Funny, ’cause in his world, he was already long gone.

He stroked his fingers down her arm and her eyes finally fluttered open.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“Did someone else die?”

“Not if we keep moving.”

Kimberly sat up and, without another word, headed for the bathroom. He lay down on the bed and placed his hand on the spot still warm from the heat of her body. He could hear the sound of running water now, the rattle of old, rusty pipes. He thought again of yesterday, and the sight of Kimberly surrounded by dozens of rattlesnakes.

“I’m going to take better care of you,” he vowed in the quiet of the room.

But he already wondered where the day would lead, and if that promise could be kept.

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