Hide and Seek (Criminal Profiler #1)(31)

Greene looked up, holding her gaze. “I might have made mistakes with those test kits, but I busted my ass looking for the person who hurt those three girls. And we turned this valley upside down looking for Tobi.”

Macy had worked enough cases to know when she needed to ease up. She might not like Greene or his methods, but until this case was closed, she might need him. “I’m only in town for five days, Mr. Greene, but you’ll be seeing more of me.”

“Stop by anytime. I’ll help in any way I can.”

Neither Nevada nor Macy spoke as they left the house. Only when they were seated in the front seat of his vehicle did he ask, “What’s your assessment?”

She clicked her seat belt in place. “Maybe we should test his DNA and compare it to our offender.”

“Greene? Jesus, Macy, that’s kicking the hornet’s nest.”

She shrugged. “If he didn’t do it, he has a good idea who did. During my research on the town, I saw that the county named the school gymnasium after him. That tells me he did more than show up at the games and keep the peace. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he was protecting one of the players.”



When Nevada dropped Macy off at the police station, it was nearly ten and she was exhausted. Her leg ached as she got into her car, but she was damn careful to make sure Nevada didn’t see her discomfort. She drove to the motel close to the highway where she’d reserved a room for five nights. As she pulled up in front of the motel’s office, she realized the establishment didn’t quite live up to its website.

Macy pushed through the door and approached the front desk. She set her purse on the counter and dug out her wallet and ID. “A room for Crow.”

The receptionist studied her and then typed her name into the computer. “Five nights?”

“Correct.”

“Sign here,” he said.

She filled in the registration card.

“You must be the FBI agent,” he said, putting the set of keys on the counter. “You look like a fed.”

She scooped up the keys. “Somehow I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

“You here to find Tobi Turner’s killer?”

“Not really at liberty to discuss my cases.”

She grabbed her purse and left the office. She drove around the side of the two-story building and parked in front of room 107. Grabbing her roller bag, she walked fifteen feet to her room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The scent of pine cleaner nearly overpowered the faint aroma of cigarette smoke.

She locked the door behind her, secured the chain, and closed the thick vinyl curtains. She shrugged off her jacket and draped it over a chair by a small round table. Running her hand over her hair, she rolled her neck from side to side as she surveyed the room.

How many places like this had she stayed at while with the bureau? She guessed there was an unused Bible in the nightstand, four white towels in the bathroom, paper-thin toilet paper on the roller, and an ice bucket she doubted had been really washed in years.

She sat on the edge of the bed and with a groan leaned over and unlaced her boots before she kicked them off. She rose and pulled the comforter and sheets back before she lay down. In her early days, she’d carried a blue light that detected the presence of human fluids. Bottom line, she kept her socks on, didn’t use the comforter, and carried a fresh supply of wipes in her suitcase for cleaning the channel selector and the phone’s receiver.

She removed her gun from its holster and placed it on the pillow next to her right and dominant hand. As she lay back, a sigh escaped her lips. The good thing about being dog-ass tired was she didn’t worry about channel selectors, ice buckets, or counting sheep. Her body throbbed as she melted into the soft mattress. Her eyes drifted closed.

The day’s events replayed slowly in her mind, but the image that kept returning was Mike Nevada standing at the entrance to the Wyatt barn. Nevada and Ramsey respected each other, and as the new sheriff he needed this case solved. He basically was Ramsey’s eyes and ears on this one.

What surprised her was Nevada looking pretty at ease. The Nevada she knew was a hard-charging agent. She always figured him as a lifer being forced out at the mandatory retirement age.

What the hell had changed for him?

The question turned over in her mind slower and slower as her grip on consciousness loosened until finally she tumbled into darkness. She didn’t fight it. Sleep would recharge her brain and body, and she’d be sharper in the morning. Just a few hours of sleep and then she’d be up early.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

The sound was distant and easily dismissed at first.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

The sound grew louder. More insistent. Instinct had her fumbling for her weapon as she heard a woman’s faint whisper.

“Help me. Find me.”

As her fingers groped the cool sheets and then the rough texture of her weapon’s grip, a heavy weight pressed on her body, pinning her to the bed. Her heart raced faster.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

“Who are you?” Macy asked.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Silence settled and the sounds faded.

“Who are you?” An anxious energy rolled over her.

And then, very quietly, “Please find me.”

“Who the hell are you?”