What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(69)

Griff didn’t need the warning. He had no intention of revealing that he’d hacked into the accounts of the flower shop.

It was strange. He’d always been a law-abiding citizen. Not only because his mother was a cop, but the computer software he created along with Rylan was capable of great harm if used without restraint.

As he’d told Carmen when they were in Kansas City, power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. He could do immeasurable damage if he didn’t possess rock-solid ethics.

But his determination to discover who was stalking Carmen overrode even his deepest-held convictions. He would do whatever necessary. Even if it meant breaking a few laws.

“Carmen’s name was listed as Carrie Jacobs.”

Nikki folded her hands together on top of her notepad, her attention fully focused on them. Griff knew her formidable intelligence was sorting and calculating every word they spoke.

Like the most sophisticated computer.

“Is that significant?” Nikki asked.

Carmen answered. “I haven’t been called Carrie since I left Louisville when I was twelve years old.”

Nikki arched a brow, glancing back at Griff. “You thought this lunatic might have a personal connection?”

Griff reluctantly removed his arm from around Carmen. He’d always been a man who had perfect focus. Rylan used to tease him that a nuclear bomb could go off and Griff would never notice if he was working on a project. But that was before Carmen.

Now just the warmth of her body or a whiff of her citrus scent was enough to destroy his concentration.

He had it bad.

With an effort, he cleared away the distractions. Then he quickly told Nikki about meeting with Lawrence Jacobs, and his suspicion that the man was hiding something from them. But it wasn’t until he revealed what Ronnie Hyde had told them about the life insurance policy and the housekeeper’s suspicion that Carmen’s father had been driven over the edge by his brother that Nikki looked intrigued.

“Three million dollars is a lot of money,” she agreed.

Carmen gave a sharp shake of her head. “Not enough to kill five women,” she said.

“You’d be surprised,” Nikki said, her tone edged with anger. As if she could offer a list of creeps who’d been willing to murder for financial gain.

And she probably could.

“Are you taking the lead on this?” Griff asked his friend.

Nikki shook her head. “I’m going to the crime scene, but my presence will be in an unofficial capacity.”

Griff frowned in confusion. Serial killers were usually handed off to the feds.

“Has it moved up the chain?” he guessed.

“Nope.” Nikki’s expression was carefully bland. Which meant that inside she was seething with frustration. “There was no chain at all.”

“The locals are in charge?” Griff rasped in disbelief. Nikki nodded. “Why?” he demanded.

Nikki hesitated, as if she was debating whether to share privileged information. Then she gave a small shrug.

“Because the women weren’t the only ones found in the house.”

The sunlight poured through the glass wall like liquid gold, but it was devoid of warmth as it spilled over the three people seated around the table.

Not that any amount of sunlight could actually combat the icy fear that was forming in the pit of Griff ’s gut.

“The owners of the farmhouse?” he asked.

“No. A man,” Nikki said in clipped tones. “He was shot in the head. An apparent suicide.”

Carmen blinked in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Nikki reached to flip open the manila folder that was next to her notepad. Griff suspected it was more an opportunity for Nikki to decide how much to share, rather than any need to review the case file.

At last she lifted her head, speaking directly to Carmen.

“The local detectives searched the house and found the women neatly laid side by side on the basement floor. And in an upstairs bedroom they found a man with a gun in his hand and a hole in the side of his head.” She tapped her finger on the file. “The cop’s conclusion is the man killed the women then brought them to the house to hide them. But once he’d seen them laid out together he’d suddenly developed a conscience, and unable to bear his guilt, he decided to kill himself.”

Griff made a sound of disgust. He’d never heard such a stupid theory. Serial killers didn’t have consciences. They hunted and slaughtered their prey without remorse. That’s what made them serial killers. And the only reason they would ever consider ending their life was because they were about to be captured.

He didn’t bother expressing his opinion of the cops. Nikki was as aware as he was that their explanation of what happened was full of crap.

“Do they have a time of death?” he instead asked.

“Not yet. The autopsies will take a while,” Nikki said. “By the times the bodies were found they were completely frozen.”

There was a tense pause as the horror of what was found in the farmhouse crashed over them. Seated hundreds of miles away in an FBI office, it was easy to forget they were talking about young women who’d been brutally murdered and stashed in an abandoned house like unwanted trash.

It was finally Carmen who broke the silence. “Why are they so convinced this man is the killer and not just an unlucky witness?”