What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(68)

Nikki gave a small nod. “And the last?”

“Mike Clayborn, Mr. Clean,” Carmen said. “He was a rancher in Montana who would lure male lovers to his remote home and dispose of them in barrels of bleach. Most of his victims were undocumented workers who no one would ever report as missing.”

Nikki was silent as she studied her pad, which was covered with hasty notes. Then she lifted her head and stabbed Carmen with a suspicious glare.

“They don’t appear to have anything in common beyond the fact that they were all ruthless killers.” She leaned forward. “And in your book.”

Griff abruptly wrapped an arm around Carmen’s shoulders, even as his free hand landed on top of the table with a sharp bang.

“Okay, Nikki,” he growled. “What the hell is going on?”





Chapter Eighteen


December 26, Chicago, IL





Griff glared at his friend with a smoldering impatience.

He’d met Nikki in college. She’d been a fellow computer geek, and equally uninterested in the typical activities that consumed most of their fellow students. Parties. Spring break. More parties.

They’d bonded over writing computer code, and once she’d told him that she intended to head to Quantico after she graduated, he’d realized that they were soul mates.

Or at least they should have been.

She was perfect for him. The only problem was that they were too much alike. Both quiet, introverted, obstinate. And there was the fact that there hadn’t been a physical spark between them.

They’d ended up more like brother and sister than lovers.

Which was why their relationship had lasted even after they’d graduated and moved on to their separate careers.

At this moment, however, he wasn’t feeling very friendly. In fact, he was wishing that he’d demanded to know exactly why Nikki had insisted they come to Chicago.

If it was just to harass Carmen, he intended to walk out the door.

As if sensing she’d been even more insensitive than usual, Nikki dropped her pen and sat back in her seat with a rueful grimace.

“After you sent me the envelope with the pictures, I put out the word I was interested in any women who’d been killed by a blow to their right temple.”

Griff felt Carmen stiffen beneath his arm. “You got a call?” she asked.

Nikki gave a nod. “Christmas morning a young man in rural Kansas was enjoying a ride on his new four-wheeler when he stopped at an old farmhouse to get out of a sudden snowstorm.”

Griff studied Nikki’s pale, perfect face. He’d always thought it ironic that she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known, but she cared the least about attracting the attention of the opposite sex. Right now, he was more concerned with the tension etched on her delicate features.

A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

He’d gone to a great effort to convince himself the Polaroids that had been sent to Carmen were some sort of elaborate hoax.

It fit the evidence, right? The name on the invoice for the flowers in Kansas City. The rumor that there was a missing three-million-dollar insurance payout. The safe that had been stolen from her grandparents’ home.

And, if he was being honest with himself, he would have to admit that he’d latched onto the suspicion with more haste than common sense.

He understood how to battle against a greedy businessman.

A few hours with his computer and he could prove that Lawrence was a thief. From there it would be a simple matter to pressure the man into admitting he’d been harassing Carmen. And to force a promise he would never trouble his niece again.

Simple.

But a serial killer. Griff shook his head. He had software that had been specifically created to help the authorities track the patterns of a killer, and where he might strike next. But it could take months, or even years, to actually capture the lunatic.

How the hell could he keep Carmen safe?

But as much as he wanted to cling to his hope that this was all a hoax, he wasn’t stubborn enough to stick his head in the sand. If Carmen was being stalked by a killer, he had to take action to protect her.

“How many?”

Nikki’s lips tightened. “All five.”

Griff ’s breath hissed through his clenched teeth. “Have you compared the photos to the bodies?”

“I got the images faxed to me this morning from the medical examiner’s office,” Nikki told him. “It’s not official, but they looked like a match to me.”

Carmen made a small sound of distress, her fingers lifting to press against her lips.

“So they were real,” she breathed.

Nikki nodded. “Yeah.”

“God.” Carmen shook her head, her face pale and her eyes wide. “I’d just convinced myself that the pictures had been faked.”

Griff tightened his arm around her shoulders. He needed to feel the delicate warmth of her body. To reassure himself that she was safe.

At least for now.

“That was my mistake,” he admitted.

Nikki glanced from Carmen to Griff, easily sensing the tension that prickled in the air.

“What mistake?”

“I traced the invoice from the flower delivery,” he told his friend.

She held up a hand. “Again, don’t tell me how.”