Hide and Seek (Criminal Profiler #1)(39)

“Yeah.”

She tapped her finger on the side of her cup. “What we see can’t ever be unseen.”

“I forgot about the kid and could only think about you. I didn’t sleep until I knew you were out of the woods.”

The tender emotion in his voice caught her off guard, and it took her a second before she could speak. “I’m too mean to kill.”

He was silent for a moment. “When you reach your limit, and you will, give yourself a break. You don’t owe anybody anything.”

“I wish it were that simple. I can’t quit.”

The waitress arrived with their platters, setting down a western omelet with toast in front of him and pancakes, bacon, and eggs in front of her.

He stared at her over the rim of his cup but, instead of pressing, said, “Let’s get back to this case.”

She poured syrup on her pancakes. “Our offender chose vulnerable victims.”

“Including Ellis?” Nevada sounded surprised.

“She was then. Her parents were going through a nasty divorce, and she and her mother were living in a new rental home. Susan had a sick mother, and Rebecca Kennedy was struggling with substance abuse.”

“The game’s already rigged with this lineup,” he said.

Reflecting on him a moment, she poured more syrup on her pancakes and sliced into them. She took several large bites as Nevada also ate. “I’m guessing he’s also been moving from jurisdiction to jurisdiction. His plan is to stay just ahead of law enforcement. Maybe he knows not all law enforcement departments communicate with each other.”

“I saw it enough when I worked for the bureau,” he said. “Maybe your ViCAP application will come through.”

She drained the last of her coffee and motioned to the waitress for a refill. “I asked Deputy Morgan to search missing persons and see if there’s a file for Cindy Shaw.”

“Everyone, including Decker, thinks she just took off. Decker’s version has her living happily ever after in Arizona.”

Macy picked up a slice of bacon, meeting his questioning gaze. “I don’t think Cindy landed in the world of rainbows and Skittles. I’ve seen too many young runaways get kicked in the head by the streets.” She snapped the piece of bacon in half. “I can’t even remember all their names and faces.”

“Can’t remember—or don’t want to?”

“Both.”

They ate in silence for several minutes before he spoke. “Deputy Bennett has scheduled a press conference for this afternoon, but before that, we have an appointment with the medical examiner in Roanoke. Tobi Turner’s remains are ready for review. Afterward, we can pay a visit to Bruce Shaw and ask him about his sister.”

She checked her watch. “It’s only five a.m. I better get back to my motel room and sleep for an hour or two.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“I’ll be ready.”



Nevada sat at the desk in his home office and turned on his computer. As he waited for it to boot up, his thoughts turned to Special Agent Macy Crow. He respected the hell out of her because she was one of the best.

But when he thought about Macy, the most primitive neurons of his limbic system demanded sex. A few times when she hadn’t been looking, he had glanced at her breasts, her lips, and the curve of her hips. She’d dropped weight and muscle tone, but as far as he was concerned, she was still hot as hell.

When he had arrived back at his grandfather’s farm, he had taken a hot shower and changed into clean jeans, a blue pullover that read SHERIFF over the left pocket, and his steel-tipped boots. As the coffee had brewed, he had attached his gun and badge to his belt.

At his computer, he searched the case he’d worked with Macy in Kansas City. A few photos featured the two of them standing side by side in the background as the local police chief spoke at the podium. He remembered that day and the sex they had shared that evening.

Shifting the Internet search to Macy, he pulled up familiar pictures. The first image caught her descending a long set of marble stairs in a Virginia courthouse. She was wearing a poker face, but the wind caught her long blond hair and it gleamed in the light. She wore heeled boots, not the black, thick-soled boots she now favored. That image vibrated with a youthful sense of invincibility.

He typed Cindy Shaw’s name into the search engine.

The search didn’t grab any hits on Cindy Shaw. Her disappearance was only mentioned once in the media, and that was in conjunction with Tobi Turner.

Assuming she was living in another state, there were no outstanding warrants for Cindy Shaw, and she also didn’t have a financial or digital trail. The universe, it seemed, had swallowed her up.

Nevada checked his watch. Realizing time was getting away from him, he finished his coffee and got in his car. At eight a.m., he pulled up in front of Macy’s motel room. She came out seconds later and slid into the front seat. They’d worked well together in Kansas City, and he felt they hadn’t missed a beat.

“How far is it to Roanoke?” she asked while responding to a text.

“Less than an hour.”

“Great. I received a response from the FBI forensic artist. She’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“Perfect.” He pulled out onto the main road. “Did you get any sleep?”