Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(14)

“The perps are smart,” Monica murmured. “I counted at least three exits at The Core. A bouncer is usually stationed at the front, but the other doors would have been clear. If they went out the back way—”

“Then they could have taken the East Benedict Road and not gotten caught on the traffic camera,” Sam finished quietly. Yeah, she knew about the alternate route, and if the killers were as organized as they thought they were, they knew, too.

But everyone made mistakes, and just maybe their killers had screwed up.

“We grill every potential witness.” Luke’s gaze swept the room. “And we focus on finding the perps’ next hunting ground.” His stare rested on Sam.

And she knew what he wanted. Sam licked dry lips and said, “I’ve been working on generating a statistical pattern trajectory for possible bars that the perpetrators might hit.” Patterns. She knew them and had always been able to see them where others couldn’t. “Our kidnappers like to hit the most crowded bars, those within a ten-mile radius of college campuses, and they like the bars that stay open until at least 4 a.m.”

“How many bars have you found?”

“Within the kill zone?” Sam asked. The kill zone—that two-hundred-mile stretch that the perpetrators used for hunting. “Twenty-three.” College kids liked their bars.

Ramirez swore. “We can’t cover that much territory.”

“We can,” Luke said. “We just have to get our asses moving. We’ll call in the local police for backup, and we’ll make sure the staff at these clubs are alerted.”

Sam’s shoulders hunched. Field work. Okay, she could do this.

Luke’s attention was still zeroed in on her. “Sam, I want you to keep searching the family’s financials. Dig deeper into their computer systems and see what you can discover.”

Sam forced a curt nod. “Consider it done.” They hadn’t been given access to the other victims’ computers. The families had closed ranks with their lawyers as fast as possible. This time, things were different.

That morning, Sam had already started a scan on the laptop—too easy. The password had taken five seconds to bypass. She had a download program retrieving all of Jeremy’s deleted e-mails and encrypted files now.

The family’s financial records were coming up clean. No major debts. No missing money that couldn’t be accounted for.

Luke rattled off several target areas, bars situated around college campuses. They were focusing on the bigger schools, those with students connected to powerful, wealthy families.

Luke assigned search areas to the other agents, leaving Sam grounded.

“Let’s move, people,” Luke said. “Talk to the bartenders and waitresses, tell them to keep their eyes open—and let’s find these bastards before anyone else gets taken.”

Or killed.


The music was loud. No, ear-splitting. But this dive on the edge of the Georgetown campus was where Sam needed to be.

She stood just inside the doorway of The Core, letting her gaze sweep across the packed bar. The bouncer at the door, a tall, muscled guy with an ear full of piercings, had waved her inside when she’d flashed her badge. She knew other agents had already talked to the guy. Kevin Milano had been working the door the night Jeremy vanished, but he hadn’t remembered seeing the vic leave.

According to the e-mails that she’d read, Jeremy Briar had met his friends here every other Friday night.

And the third victim, Curtis Weatherly, the guy who’d managed to come back home and then get shipped right out to Mexico, had also visited this bar. Sure, a visit to The Core had meant a long drive from his home in Virginia, but he’d come… a week before he’d vanished. Curtis hadn’t answered the agents’ questions, so she hadn’t gotten that detail directly from him.

Luckily, he’d posted it on his Facebook page, and she’d logged his activities.

Two victims, one bar.

Another pattern. And maybe, just maybe, if she dug deep enough into the lives of the other victims, she’d find that they were linked to The Core, too.

It was edging close to midnight. She hadn’t told Luke about the link yet, but she’d tell him first thing tomorrow.

And she was there because—

Someone bumped into her, and Sam spun around, her arms coming up.

“S-sorry…” A drunken slur as the man weaved past her.

She exhaled slowly. Get a grip. Her weapon was in her bag. She was surrounded by drunken frat boys. Not killers.

But, no, maybe one of them was a killer.

And that was why she was here. Why she’d forced herself to come inside the bar after staying in the car for twenty minutes. She was an FBI agent, for Christ’s sake! Her job was to follow leads. She could do this.

If she’d called someone else to check the bar, Hyde would’ve wondered about her. Even more than he already did. A quick sweep, sure, she should be able to handle that.

Right?

Pulling her jacket close, Sam eased her way through the crowd. Not her scene. But then, she’d graduated college when she was seventeen, so it hadn’t exactly been legal for her to be in a joint like this.

After an eternity, she made it to the bar and slapped her palm down on the gleaming surface. The bartender glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “Whattaya need?”