What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(70)

“They already ran his fingerprints and identified him as—” Nikki once again glanced at the file folder, her gaze skimming to the bottom of the top page. “Archie Darrell. Do you recognize the name?”

Carmen flinched, her brows snapping together. “No. Should I?”

Nikki flipped to the next page. “He started out as a petty thief who spent his childhood in and out of juvie. From there he graduated to sexual assault. He was sent to a mental facility when he was twenty.”

Griff leaned forward, trying to catch a peek at the file. He didn’t doubt for a second that Nikki would keep vital information from them. Right now she was an FBI agent. Not his friend.

“Why wasn’t he sent to prison?” he asked.

“According to the police report he was delusional when they arrested him. He claimed to hear voices and was convinced that the woman he’d raped was Jezebel from the Bible. The judge ruled that he was unfit to stand trial.” Nikki shuffled through the stack of papers. “He disappeared from the hospital over two months ago.”

Jezebel? Griff grimaced. It was possible that it was nothing more than an act. But it was equally likely that he was truly unhinged.

Carmen curled her hands in her lap, but she didn’t flinch. She’d spent the past few years listening to stories from killers that would make most people lock themselves in their home and never leave.

“Why would you ask if I knew him?” she demanded.

Nikki flicked a quick glance toward Griff, as if silently warning him to brace himself.

The icy ball in his stomach doubled in size.

Nikki spoke directly to Carmen. “After Archie Darrell escaped from the hospital, they searched his room. They found a copy of your book along with several pictures of you.”

Griff swore beneath his breath, wrapping his arm around Carmen’s waist as she abruptly leaned back, as if in need of his support.

“How did he get pictures of me?” Carmen’s words came out as a shaky whisper.

Something that might be sympathy flickered through Nikki’s green eyes, but her expression remained hard with determination. The perfect FBI agent.

“They think that the pictures were sent to him, but they had no way to trace his mail.”

Carmen fell silent, her head turning to burrow in the hollow of his shoulder. The air itself felt heavy. As if Archie Darrell’s sickness was managing to leak from the file folder.

Carmen, however, wasn’t hiding from the truth. Instead, she was absorbing and processing what Nikki had just told her. At last she tilted back her head, meeting Griff ’s worried gaze.

“There’s more than one killer,” she rasped. “There has to be.”

Surprisingly, Nikki gave a sharp nod of agreement. “That was my thought as well,” she said. “I don’t believe for a minute that the man committed suicide. If he was overcome by guilt, why would he go upstairs and lie down on a rotting mattress before putting the gun to his head? And where was his car? He didn’t walk to the farmhouse carrying five dead women.”

Griff tried to visualize the scene. The abandoned house. The victims laid neatly in the basement. The dead man upstairs with a bullet through his brain.

“If he had a partner, the two of them might have had a falling-out,” he suggested. “Or Archie Darrell might have become so unstable he was a liability to the sick collaboration.”

“Agreed.” Nikki pressed her lips into a tight line. Her frustration was almost a physical force. “Unfortunately, the cops are eager to avoid mass panic at having to admit there might be more than one killer stalking women. It’s far easier to reassure everyone that the madman is dead and that the public can go back to enjoying their holiday.”

Without warning Carmen was leaning forward, her hand slamming on top of the table with a burst of fury.

“And what happens when the killings continue?”

Nikki didn’t recoil at Carmen’s outburst. Instead, a grim smile curved her lips.

“Then I’m no longer there as a professional courtesy,” she told Carmen. “I’ll take charge of the investigation.”

Carmen scowled in frustration. Griff didn’t blame her. He might have full faith in Nikki’s talent as an agent, but that meant nothing if she wasn’t allowed to do her job.

“So until then, we have to wait around for the killer to strike again?” Carmen’s voice was harsh.

“No. I might not be the primary investigator in Kansas, but that doesn’t mean I’m not able to follow my own leads.” Nikki picked up her pen and flipped the page on her notepad. Then, settling her forearms on the table, she studied Carmen with a fierce intensity. “It’s clear to me that you’re somehow connected to these killings, Ms. Jacobs. I want to know everything about you.”

Carmen’s scowl deepened. “But—”

“Carmen.” Griff interrupted her protest, giving her fingers a squeeze. He’d seen that expression on Nikki’s face. Right before she’d spent the night disassembling her ex-boyfriend’s prized motorcycle down to the last screw after she’d caught him with another girl. “You might as well get comfortable.”

*

Despite the fear that churned through her like a toxic sludge, Carmen did her best to answer Nikki’s questions. Even the ones that were intrusive, or downright stupid.