Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(55)

“House was torn down years ago. Highway goes over it now. As for relatives… no, it was just the boy and his ma. The father died when the boy was young, in some kind of car accident.”

But there was something there, connecting the cases. The perp out there hunting in Jasper wanted them to know about that link.

Something or someone connected the cases.

“Luke,” Monica’s sharp cry.

He glanced over to see her and Kenton hurry inside. “Lee interviewed all the rental agents at the airport. No one rented Sam a car,” she told him.

“And no taxi drivers reported picking up her fare either.” Kenton said, a muscle flexing along his jaw. “She’s just… disappeared.”

The sheriff’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I told Hyde the county was secure. I told him it was safe down here.”

Not even close.

“Why?” He glanced up, and his face flushed dark red. “Why would he go after that agent? He’s been pickin’ local women.”

Monica shook her head. “Sheriff, I’ve told you, I believe this man has killed before, outside of your county. Killed women like Saundra Swain.”

His tongue swiped over his lips. “You found something in Gatlin?”

They hadn’t briefed the sheriff on Gatlin because, well, hell had broken loose last night.

“Maybe. I had Sam working to get some background info for me. The victim in Gatlin, Saundra, had a boyfriend who disappeared just after her death.”

“You think it’s him?” The sheriff asked. “What’s his name? We can put an APB out for him!”

“We don’t have any proof that he’s guilty. We don’t even know where he is right now. We’re pulling up his driver’s license photo now from the DMV, and we’re waiting on a warrant to search a house belonging to the guy’s aunt.”

Her phone rang. Monica broke off and snatched her cell phone up from her hip. Luke caught the rasp of her breath right before she said, “Local number. It-it’s the number Sally had.”

Fuck. They’d gotten all the numbers for the vics because they’d known this call would be coming.

Her eyes were on Luke when she pushed the button to answer the call.


“I’m getting bored with you, Agent Davenport,” he told her, brushing his fingers against the pane of the window. “You’re supposed to be so good. I thought you’d be better at this game.”

“Killing people isn’t a game!”

Ah, she seemed angry. Good. “To me it is.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

He smiled. “And to your pretty little friend, it’s a game, too.”

“You have Samantha?”

Did she really need to ask? Disappointing. And he’d been told she was such good prey. “She’s rather too trusting, don’t you think? Supposed to be so smart, and she never even saw me coming until it was too late.”

Because no one was smarter than he was. He didn’t need those f*cking fancy degrees.

“Let her go,” Monica said, voice tight. “You haven’t killed her yet so just—”

“Are you sure?”

Silence. Then, voice quiet, “Yes.”

“How are you sure?” Not much time. He wouldn’t talk much longer. The agents with her would have already started tracking his signal. He’d have to make the dump fast. He turned away from the window, headed for the back door. Really, they should pay better attention around these parts. Just anyone could walk in.

“I’m sure.” He could almost see her. Dark hair straight and perfect around her delicate features. Face expressionless. His agent liked her control.

He wanted to shatter that control into a million pieces, and he would, when he shattered her.

“You haven’t played with her yet,” the agent who thought she was so smart told him. “You don’t know her, don’t know her fears.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Ah, but I do know. I told you, I’ve been watching.” A quick glance at his watch. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours.” He kept the voice distorter, a handy device he’d picked up down in a New Orleans novelty shop, over the phone. “Twenty-four hours to save her.” Plenty of time for me to play.

“What do you mean?”

“Find her.” That was all he’d say. “Find her, save her. Twenty-four hours.” And he’d be watching. Because Samantha Kennedy didn’t matter. Monica did. This was her test.

What do you fear, agent? “Find her… or you’ll bury her.” Perhaps Monica would bury her either way because twenty-four hours might just be too long. It was so easy to get bored, and he really doubted that Samantha Kennedy would be able to last that long.


Monica stared at her phone. Her face felt cold. Icy pinpricks shot through her skin. “We’ve got twenty-four hours to find Sam.”

“Fuck!” Kenton whirled around. “That bastard had better not hurt her!”

“He said if we don’t find her in twenty-four hours,” she found Luke watching her, his gaze steady and strong, “then we’ll bury her.”

I’ll find you, Sam. Don’t worry. I will find you.

Because she knew what it was like to be a killer’s plaything. To know that he could hurt you, use you, break you—and that help wouldn’t get there in time.