Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(39)

His hold on the wheel tightened. “Then why’d he bury Laura behind that house? How was that important to her?”

He steered off on the exit ramp, turning north and heading for the house of death.

“We missed something out there,” she said. “I know we did.”

“You really think we’re gonna be able to find anything tonight?” They should just go back in the morning, with plenty of light, and maybe she’d be able to do her voodoo and figure out what message that twisted creep was trying to send them.

No, not to them. The message was to the victims.

“This guy does everything for a reason. The people he picks, the way he kills them. The places he chooses—and when he kills,” Monica said. “I want to see the scene the way he saw it.”


She’d come to play his game. He watched the lights of the agents’ SUV cut through the darkness.

Back so soon.

She hadn’t even been in Gatlin a full twenty-four hours. Not time to learn any good secrets. Disappointing. He’d expected more from her. She was supposed to be the best.

But she’d hardly presented any challenge so far.

He pulled onto the road behind them and kept his lights off. They’d never know he was there, getting so close.

Tonight wasn’t a kill night, not for her—because he didn’t know yet what Monica Davenport feared. So many things could chill. So many things could wake her up in the night, screaming. But what was the one thing that scared her the most?

He had to know. He would know. It was his mission. Find out, break her.

They didn’t turn toward the motel. He tensed a bit at that. He’d expected them to go back. Maybe to screw. Because he’d seen the way the man, Dante, looked at her.

Lover’s eyes filled with possession, heat, and lust.

It would be too easy to figure out Dante’s fears.

But Dante wasn’t his prey.

They turned up ahead, taking Peter’s Junction, and his foot eased a bit on the accelerator.

That way—it led to the Moffett house. Why go there? Why tonight?

He pulled off the road, taking a deep breath. No, that wasn’t the taste of fear on his tongue. He wasn’t afraid. Never afraid.

But maybe Agent Davenport had learned more than he thought in Gatlin. If she’d stumbled onto his secret, someone would pay. Someone would scream and beg and bleed—and pay.

Behind him, a muffled groan broke the silence.

He smiled. Pay.


They took the flashlights from the back of the SUV. Big, thick Mags that were like mini-spotlights, cutting through the darkness that surrounded them.

“The woods,” she said, jogging ahead and pretty much seeming to talk to herself. “Why these woods?” The woman always hurried ahead of him.

He pulled out his weapon. He wasn’t about to take any chances on a killer’s hunting grounds.

His light swept the perimeter and caught the glittering stare of a possum.

Luke kept close to Monica, his gun ready. Branches bit and tore at him. An owl hooted somewhere far in the distance, and crickets chirped from the cover of darkness.

And Luke couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a very, very bad idea.

Monica halted just outside of the secured yellow police tape. Stars glittered overhead, and the moon was out, thick and full, giving them more light. She circled the grave. Her flashlight flickered over the ground.

Piss poor idea. He should have told her that, but no, he’d been drawn along with her. Always had been. Like a f*cking moth to the flame.

Her light rose to the trees. He smothered a sigh. “You’re not going to see anything.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. She crouched on her knees. The light swung some more.

“Monica?” The back of his neck was tingling. Time to get to the motel. There were too many places for someone to hide in the darkness. Being in the open like this didn’t sit well. Not a damn bit.

She turned off her light.

Oh, that was just brilliant. He inched closer to her. Someone had to watch her ass. That was what a partner was for, right?

Her head tipped back. “I think—I think I can see a window from the house.”

What? The trees were too thick. The pines too tall. No way could she see—

He cocked his head—well, damn. It looked like lightning had struck a pine about ten feet away, knocking down the top section of the tree.

And giving a dead-on view of what was left of the house’s second story. The attic maybe? Or was that a window glinting—

“Laura’s parents said she got locked in a closet playing hide and seek.” She rose to her feet and brushed off her knees. “I think you need to talk to them again… and find out just where that closet was.” Her light flashed on. “Give you ten-to-one odds that Laura knew Patricia Moffett, and that they were playing at the Moffetts’ when that closet got locked.”

Well, shit. “You’re good.”

One shoulder lifted. “Maybe I just know killers too well.”

Maybe. But knowing killers could help her save victims and that was what mattered.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Right.” She fell into step beside him. It was easier getting out, but Luke kept his weapon close just in case. The sooner they left this death house the better.