The Vanishing Season (The Collector #4)(56)

“It’s . . . this time of year . . . but it’s . . .” I take a deep breath that’s shakier than I’d like. “I can’t say much about it, because this case has just . . . it’s just this tangle of everything and I can’t talk about it yet, but . . . I love him. He bought that ridiculous house because part of him is thinking together and family, but he can’t ask me anything, and I’m scared to death that he will ask something, because . . .”

“Because you didn’t realize how much Cliff had done to you until after you walked away,” he supplies softly, “and you’re terrified you’ll miss signs again.”

Priya’s thumb rubs back and forth against the edge of the gauze bandage, a safe distance away from the burns themselves.

“Of course you’re afraid. Oh, my Eliza, who wouldn’t be? Of course you’re afraid. But you have been afraid before and stood the line. You will know when it is time for you to do so again. And then, until then, after then, you are loved. You are so loved, Eliza, and by better people than me.”





19

Priya doesn’t ask me about what must have been a strange call to hear only my end of, doesn’t ask about the bandage or the tears or the bag of food congealing on the kitchen counter. She just hands me some tissues and then trades the used tissues for the FBI bear she gave me when I accepted the transfer from Denver to Quantico. Once she’s in pajamas from my closet that fit well enough despite a difference in our sizes, she curls up next to me again.

“You borrowed Jenny’s van?” I ask eventually.

“Yeah. Vic got call after call after call, but then he didn’t get a call from you, and I think that worried him more than the actual calls.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“Not much. Just that there’d been an accident, a real accident, not a cover-up, an actual accident, but for the love of God don’t ask her if it was an accident . . .”

Despite the tears, I can’t help but snort at that, and she smirks at me.

“I can’t help Eddison by going over there. I can help you and Eddison by being here. I don’t need to know what happened until you want to tell me. I just wanted to be here.”

“You’re a wonderful person.”

“I try.”

I plug in my phone and turn off the light so we can settle in for the night, screw hygiene or routine, and then realize the closet light is still on. I walk over to flick it off and see the dress bag sprawled in its corner, complete with the big pink bow on the hanger just below the ribbon-wrapped hook. Like putting a bow on a leash.

I turn off the light and shut the door for good measure.

Way too early, my alarm goes off, and a grumbly Priya burrows deeper under the blanket. By the time I’ve showered, dried my hair, put on my makeup, changed the bandage, and dressed, the top half of her head has made its way out of the fabric to blink at me sleepily.

“You can stay as long as you want to,” I tell her, my voice soft in deference to the obscene hour. “You’ve got your key.”

“Mm-kay.”

I kiss her on the forehead, tuck the FBI bear into her arms, and leave her to it.

I get to Quantico around six, which is still two hours earlier than normal, but Cass and Mercedes are already there. Sort of. Mercedes is present, Cass is curled up on the floor under her desk fast asleep. Mercedes gives me a worried, wary look. “Did you sleep?”

“Actually, I did, a bit. You?”

“Not especially.”

“Is he okay?”

“Jenny and Marlene managed to come up with a list of things around the house that someone younger than Vic needs to see to, and then they’re giving him over to Ian for the day.”

So that’s a no, but at least they’ll keep Bran busy and make him eat. That will help, somewhat. Maybe.

“Inara and Victoria-Bliss are going to be spending the day at my place,” she continues, “just in case. They won’t mean to rile him up more, but . . . well. Victoria-Bliss. No one needs her and Eddison sniping at each other today. Eddison feels bad enough as it is. Vic didn’t mention anything about Priya.”

“She’s at mine. I don’t know what her plans for the day are besides sleep until daylight.”

Mercedes yawns, her fingers twitching toward her eyes before she remembers her makeup. “How’s your arm?”

“Painful, but Priya kept me from rolling on it or anything.”

“Snuggled you into submission, did she?”

“Yes, yes, she did. I’m surprised you two are here rather than on your way to Richmond.”

“Watts wanted us to meet here first. I think she’s got some extra cautions to give.”

“For instance?”

“We’ll find out when she gets here, I suppose.”

Gradually Watts’s team trickles in, aiming for the conference room, and the general sleepiness vanishes as soon as they see those seventeen pictures up on the wall.

Watts hands everyone a printout and a protein bar. “This lists out the girls’ names, where they were taken, and when. Memorize it, because I don’t want you taking it with you. As you’re talking to neighbors and officers and anyone assisting with the search, keep an ear out for any of these names or cities. If someone mentions them, get us their name straight away. This is not someone who stands out. This is not someone the kids are scared of. He fits in, but if he lives there, he doesn’t live there long. He’s not necessarily going to look worried or scared if you talk to him. He’s gotten away with this for a long time. Depending on his particular pathology, he might even be sympathetic to what the parents are going through. He may be on the volunteer lists. Trust your gut on this one; it’s gotten us this far.”