Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(25)

“Right.” Monica’s hands dropped. “And I’m guessing the idea of stopping him and asking for ID never crossed your mind.”

Or the deputy’s. But then, Luke knew exactly where Andy’s mind had been.

“He—he was a doctor…” Sissy’s whisper.

“No,” Monica told her. “He was a killer.”


Monica waited until she was alone to make the call. She didn’t bother calling the SSD. She used Hyde’s private line, a number she’d had for years.

“What happened?” No grogginess, no confusion. Blunt and hard. Always the way he answered the phone, and, of course, he knew it was her. He would have seen the caller ID.

Monica took a deep breath. “Laura Billings is dead.” She glanced down the long hospital corridor. Luke had gone back to talk to the family again. He’d come back with a list of names—friends, lovers. Luke had a way of working through the victims’ grief and always getting the information he needed. “He got to her, Hyde. Came right in the hospital last night and killed Laura in her bed.”

“Dammit. What about the guard? I know you stationed—”

“He walked right by him. Looks like our guy stole some scrubs and just slipped in.” Bold, but then, she’d already known that about the killer.

“This story is going to leak to the national media soon.” He sighed. “Kenton will be there in a few hours. Let him take care of the reporters. You just stick to working this perp.”

Her fingers tightened around the phone. “He made contact.”

Silence. Thick. The tension hummed over the cell.

“Run that by me again.” She could almost see him, pacing near that picture window in his den. He would have grabbed his cordless phone and gone in there immediately. He always thought better in his den.

“Earlier tonight…” Dawn was almost here now. “He slipped one of his notes under my motel room door and then he called.” She kept her voice even. Good thing she’d practiced doing that over the years. But if anyone could look past the surface, it was Hyde.

“He called the motel room?”

“No.” And this was worrying her. “My cell phone. I don’t know how he got access—and we need to find out—but he called my private line. I’ve already talked to Sam. The bastard used Laura’s phone, and he left it for me, right by our SUV.”

“Any prints?”

“Doubt it.” He wouldn’t have made a mistake like that. “I gave it to the techs down here for dusting. We’re also checking to see if any other calls were made by our guy.” The phone records should be ready for her by the time she got back to the station.

“Where’s Dante?”

“Talking with Laura’s family.” She turned, gazing out the window, and knew he’d be doing the same. “He wanted me to know he was watching. Fair enough, because I’m sure after him.”

“I don’t like it. Dammit, I don’t like any of this.”

Neither did she. “It’s not unexpected. Perps can often fixate on the agents assigned to track them. He knows the SSD is here. It’s a pissing match, sir. He’s trying to show he’s not going to be scared.” That we should be scared.

“Monica…” Not Davenport, not this time. “Are you okay?” Soft, quiet, and she knew it wasn’t her boss who was asking. It was the man who’d seen her through the dark.

“He doesn’t scare me.” It took so much more than this guy.

“If you need me, I’m there.”

He’d always been there.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, tapping lightly on the tile. She glanced over her shoulder. Luke was headed toward her. “Yes, sir, if we see the need for additional backup, I’ll make sure we contact you right away.” Her gaze held Luke’s.

“You do that,” Hyde said into her ear. “And you send me everything you’ve got on this perp. I don’t want him playing his games with you.”

Too late.


The sheriff gave them a room to work in at the station. Not a big office. Maybe a ten-by-eight space with one window. But the size didn’t matter. Luke was damn grateful they’d finally gotten some privacy and a solid door between them and the good folks of Jasper.

He and Vance had dragged one desk and two chairs inside. A war room. For him and Monica.

Luke waited until Deputy Pope walked out, then it was his turn for the interrogation. He closed the door, very softly. Leaning back against the wood, he got ready to work. “What did Hyde have to say?”

“He said he’s got Samantha cross-referencing murders in the U.S. that fit our pattern.” She pulled out a desk chair and when the wood slid across the tile, a long, painful squeak filled the air.

He paced toward her. “Our pattern? Our pattern is that the perp gets off on his kills. He tortures the victims, gives them their nightmares and—”

“Exactly.” She sat, nice and prim, and opened up her laptop. “He does.”

They hadn’t managed to save her. He’d been so stunned to see Laura gulping down air when they’d dug her out of that hole. Then to see her so pale and still in that hospital bed…

I’ll find you, bastard.

He could still hear the sound of her mother crying.