What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(82)

“No. My contact at the California Bureau of Investigation.” Rylan frowned as he rose to his feet and pressed the phone to his ear.

Griff surged out of his chair and watched his friend as he paced toward the window. Five minutes later Rylan ended the call and turned back, his expression grim.

Griff clenched his hands at his sides. “Did they find something?”

“Yeah.” He walked back to stand next to Griff, his voice pitched low enough it wouldn’t carry. Clearly, he didn’t want Carmen to overhear if she happened to be awake. “They just finished investigating a suspicious fire.”

“On the beach?”

“On a dune, just twenty miles south of here,” Rylan corrected. “Which is why they didn’t see anything or anyone until too late. They were concentrating their efforts closer to the ocean.”

A nausea rolled through his gut. They were too late. Again.

“Bodies?” he demanded.

Rylan nodded. “Three women and one man. They’re too badly burned to know more than that.”

Griff drummed his fingers on the desk. They hadn’t been exactly on the beach, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that the victims had been burned. The killers had copied the Morning Star, just as they’d feared.

So, did that mean they were about to move on?

About to track down a copy of Carmen’s book, Griff froze. He’d been too focused on the fact that the killers had already struck to chew through the few facts they had.

“Wait,” he murmured. “You said there were three women and one man?”

Rylan nodded. “That’s what my contact said. I’m not sure if they’ve fully processed the scene, so I guess it’s a possibility they might find more bodies.”

Griff didn’t think so. He was beginning to see the pattern.

“They went from five women to four women to three women,” he said.

Rylan hesitated before he realized what Griff was saying. “Right. And each time a man was shot through the head and left with the bodies.”

“It sounds like some weird cult,” Griff muttered. “They kill women and then themselves.”

“And the cult is growing smaller,” Rylan pointed out, abruptly squaring his shoulders. “I want to take a look at the crime scene.”

“Can your buddy get you past the local police?”

Rylan’s lips twitched. “You know me well enough to realize that a few cops aren’t going to stop me.”

Griff glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t leave Carmen.”

“I’ve got this,” Rylan assured him.

“Thanks, Ry.”

He shrugged. “It’s what partners do.” He started across the room only to halt and turn back to face Griff. “After I leave I don’t want you to open the door until I get back,” he commanded. “I don’t care if it’s someone waving a badge. Whoever is doing this has managed to kill twelve people and move across the country without getting caught. They’re smart, and they’re organized. I don’t want you becoming the next victim.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t trust anyone,” Griff assured him, following his friend out of the study and to the front door. He waited there as he watched Rylan slip into his rented car and drive away.

Only then did he close the door and lock it.

Rylan was right. Whoever was responsible for the killing spree was either incredibly smart or lucky. Either way, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Pouring himself another mug of coffee, he wandered back to his study and tried to concentrate on scouring for more information on the two men who’d been identified. They had to offer some clue to the killers.

Unfortunately, he found it increasingly difficult to keep his thoughts from straying to the woman who was currently sleeping in a room above him.

He didn’t want to disturb her. Not after her restless night. But he needed to assure himself that she was safely tucked in his bed.

Strolling to the back of the house, he was struck at how quiet it seemed. Odd. He’d lived here for years, and he’d always felt comforted by the peace that shrouded his home. Now he realized that he’d already become addicted to hearing Carmen’s bright chatter and the sounds of her moving around his house. And the scent of her lemony soap lingering in the air.

The thought that she might eventually disappear and leave him alone in his silent house was enough to make his heart squeeze with dismay. He didn’t want the silence. Or the illusion of peace.

He wanted Carmen.

In his life. And in his home.

Reaching the master suite, he eased open the door and stepped inside. He frowned, coming to a startled halt. He’d left the room shrouded in shadows. Now the French doors had been pushed open to allow the morning sunlight to spill across the empty bed.

Carmen was awake. And instead of coming to find him, she’d chosen to walk in the garden.

Weirdly hurt, Griff headed onto the balcony and down the staircase. His head might tell him that it was perfectly reasonable for Carmen to want to spend time in the beautiful morning air, but his heart wanted her to jump out of bed, anxious to be with him.

Juvenile, but true.

He headed down the flagstone pathway, and his steps quickened as his gaze swept the garden. Where was she?

He didn’t think she would leave the yard alone. Even if she was frustrated by her inability to be a part of the hunt for the killer. She was stubborn, not stupid.