Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(56)

No, this time, I’ll get there. Hold on, Sam.

Monica drew in a quick breath. Can’t panic. Work the case. Think like him.

“Kenton, get me that picture of Kyle West. See what you can find out about his whereabouts. I want all deputies to know his face—everyone needs to keep their eyes open for him.” One step at a time. “Luke, notify Hyde. He’s gonna want to come down here.” She hesitated, just for an instant. “I’ve got to talk to Sam’s family.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “You’re telling them? Already?”

“Yes.” The grief would rip them apart, but she wouldn’t lie to a fellow agent’s family. “I have to talk to them. They’re the only ones who can tell me—”

“What? What are they gonna tell you?” Davis demanded. “How are you gonna find her? This bastard is jerkin’ us all around by the balls!” His voice rose to a yell as sweat beaded his upper lip.

“Yes, he is.” Monica kept her voice quiet and firm. She understood the sheriff’s fury. His people were dying. Now one of hers was, too. “But we are going to stop him.”

“How?” The sheriff’s faith was gone.

“Leave that to me.” She tossed her cell phone to the tech who’d stood watching them, mouth open. “You were connected with the SSD, right?” They’d set the link up on Gerry’s computer beforehand because she’d known this call would come. “Have they sent you the GPS data?” The SSD would have been notified the moment her phone rang. Kim had been standing by, just waiting. “I want him. I need to know where he called from.”

“I-I think from right outside.” A woman’s voice said.

Monica spun around. Deputy Melinda Jenkins stood in the doorway, her face tense. She lifted her hand and raised a cell phone wrapped in a clear plastic bag. “I was getting a smoke. I-I found this out back.”

Oh, damn. Every muscle in her body tightened. There. So close to them… the bastard wasn’t scared. “Gerry, I want that phone torn apart.” Find something. Anything.

“Get your men out there, sheriff.” The order was Luke’s. “If that * was outside, someone saw him.”

The killer was bold. And he was laughing right in their faces. Too confident. He knew the area too well. Knew the sheriff’s station too well.

Every move they made, he seemed to be right there.

“If the bastard was here…” Kenton’s voice came slowly. “Then where the hell is Sam? Christ, is she—is she even still alive?”

Monica swung toward him. “She’s alive.”

His gaze held hers. Kenton and Sam had dated briefly, and though they might not have made it as a couple, Monica knew they were friends. She could see the worry and fear on Kenton’s face.

“He would have drugged her and left her tied up someplace,” she said. “He wouldn’t have made the call close to her. He knew we’d track him.” Because he knew every move they made. Every move.


Sam opened her eyes and saw only darkness. Thick, pitch black. Her head pounded and nausea rolled in her belly. She tried to move but her hands were bound, tied behind her back. She sat in a wooden chair that was hard, with a high back. Her ankles were tied to the chair legs. The ropes were so tight that she could feel the dampness of her blood.

“H-hello?” Her voice came out as a rasp. Weak. No, she would not be weak. “Who’s there?” He had to be there. Watching her. Getting off on her fear.

Don’t show fear.

Monica had said that once. She’d been talking to the agents about what to do in a worst-case situation.

Oh, God, this is worst case. Trapped. Isolated. He’s going to kill me.

Monica knew killers. She knew how to handle them. If she were here, she wouldn’t be panicking, with terror nearly choking her. She’d be calling out to the killer, taunting him.

Staying in control.

Sam took another breath. A stale taste filled her mouth and that nausea was still rising in her throat. “Come out, bastard!” Yelling made her head hurt more. Dammit, what had he injected her with? How long had she been out?

Her eyes jerked to the left. The right. Can’t see anything. The familiar weight of her glasses was missing. Shit. Even if the lights were on, she wouldn’t be able to see much.

Why had he taken her? What did the guy want? She’d read the profile Monica faxed to Hyde. The guy tortured his victims by making them face their worst fears.

But there wasn’t any way for him to know what scared her. He didn’t know her.

And then she heard it. Sam froze. The faintest of sounds. Not too close, but it was…

The gentle lapping of water.

Oh, Jesus. No, no, he couldn’t know…

“Are you there? Are you there?” Sam shouted.

That lapping filled her ears, and Sam choked back a scream.


“Mrs. Kennedy, this is Monica Davenport with the SSD.” Her fingers curled lightly over the phone. Behind her, the sheriff’s office buzzed with activity. “I’m calling about your daughter Samantha.”

A faint hum over the line, then, “Monica, did you say? Ah, Sam’s friend. You two work together.” A flowing, cultured voice. Sam’s parents were wealthy, old money. Not that Sam appeared to ever touch their money. Why had Sam joined the Bureau? Monica had been given no choice—once the monsters got inside, she couldn’t get them out. But Sam—why had she traded the glitter for the grit?