Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(13)

This time, he’d have to imagine the fear. For now, anyway.

The box was in position. He’d built it himself. Couldn’t damn well buy one of the things—that would just be stupid.

He stared down at the bitch. Red hair tangled over her face and hung on her busted lip.

She’d tried to run from him. The whore hadn’t realized that running wasn’t an option.

His cock swelled as he stared at her. So weak. He could do anything he wanted to her. No one could stop him.

No one.

He bent and trailed his fingers over her breast. A little small for him. He liked bigger tits.

The bitch moaned, and her eyes cracked open.

Would she remember him? Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t live to tell anyone about him.

So he smiled and, crouching more, he eased his arms under her back. Then he lifted her, just a few inches, and tossed her into the hole.

Her body slammed into the box.

Face-first.

When the drugs wore off and she woke fully, she wouldn’t even be able to turn over. He flattened his body over the earth and managed to slam the lid of the wooden box. His tongue snaked out, and he licked lips gone dry with excitement.

Too f*cking easy.

The shovel waited for him, just a few feet away.

I want to see her face. Nothing like fear. No—damn—thing.

Guess he’d just have to catch a glimpse of her when the cops hauled her body out. If they found her.

He pushed up to his feet and went to get his shovel.


The house was really perfect for murder.

Situated near the edge of the woods, pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Accessible only by a long, twisted old road.

No neighbors close by. No one to hear the screams. No one to see the kill.

Monica had a feeling there’d been a lot of screams coming from the broken little house at the end of Pine Bend.

The windows were boarded up. Vines snaked across the house. Yellow police tape criss-crossed the sagging front porch.

“Big coincidence that the cops raided this place right after the bastard’s kill,” Luke said as he climbed from their rented SUV.

Yeah, big coincidence. Only Monica didn’t really believe in coincidences. Never had. “The department got a tip about this place. It wasn’t just a chance raid.” That info had been in the notes Hyde gave her. She circled around the vehicle, her gun in its holster. Her gaze scanned the woods.

Secluded. No eyes to see.

A curse from Dante. “You thinking the killer called the cops?”

Her stare dropped to the ground. Studied the red dirt at the end of the worn road. Tire tracks. “I’m thinking what good is a kill if no one can appreciate it?”

Silence.

Monica’s eyes narrowed as she said, “The way Patty was found, she was still… fresh. Bigger shock value. If she’d stayed here, decayed, police wouldn’t have known what happened to her without one thorough autopsy—” She broke off and glanced behind her.

“Monica?”

The wind blew her hair, whispered in her ears. She motioned toward the house. “Let’s do a sweep.” Shouldn’t be much to see, but then again, she hadn’t really figured on finding that note before.

“I’ll go around back,” he said, “You take the front.”

Fine by her. So what if his voice was clipped, and he’d barely glanced her way all morning? They had a job to do. No time for screwing around.

No matter how good the screw.

Monica gave a nod and drew her gun. It never paid to be too careful.

Luke disappeared around the side of the house. She climbed the porch steps. They creaked and sagged beneath her feet.

Her cell phone vibrated, shaking against her hip. Shit, the freaking thing had made her jump. So much for Ms. Tough FBI agent. Sucking in a breath, she lifted it up to her ear. “Special Agent Davenport—”

“Another girl’s gone missing.”

She knew that slow drawling voice. Sheriff Davis.

“What?” Her fingers clenched around the phone. No, not this soon. Sweat slicked her palms.

“She didn’t come back home this morning… not answering her cell…” His voice faded in and out. “Her boss said she left after her shift… Need you and your partner at the station…”

Monica’s heart raced too fast.

“Her parents are here, got to tell ’em something—”

“We’ll be there, Sheriff, but I want to check—”

A crackle of static. Loud enough to have her wincing. She should be grateful to even get a connection out here, but— “Where are you, Davenport?”

“Moffett crime scene. Dante and I want to see—”

“Where?” Followed by another scream of static. “I need you—”

Monica spun around, instinct driving her as her gaze dropped to the tracks. “When was the last time your men were out here?”

“Wednesday.” Static. “Come to the office… parents… missing…”

Her eyes rose. The tall pines around the house swayed back and forth. Oh, yeah, this connection would be dying soon. “Be there in thirty.” Monica wasn’t sure if he heard her.

Wednesday.

She clipped the phone back in place on her hip. She always checked out the weather before one of Hyde’s trips. She liked to know what she was getting herself into before she hit the road or the skies.