Into the Night(22)

She swallowed. “If he’d wanted us dead, there were easier methods. He could have shot us while we were going into the cabin or waited until we came out and then fired.”

The captain put his hands on his hips. “So then what the hell was he doing?”

“He wanted us to see his work.” She’d been thinking about this as she watched the firefighters battle the flames. “He didn’t destroy the cabin until we got inside. He wanted us to find Patrick Remus. Wanted us to see his body and what he’d done to it.” The nails. Again. The nails had significance. Terrible, horrible significance. “And he could have killed us with the fire, yes, but I think he knew we’d get out. That’s why he went ahead and disabled our vehicle. He was... I think he was almost testing us.”

Harwell gave a low whistle. “Did you pass his test?”

Once more, her attention slid back to the cabin. The flames. The smoke. Macey bit her lip for a moment and then replied, “I’m not so sure that we did.”

*

THE FBI HAD booked Macey and Bowen a cabin just outside Gatlinburg, an A-frame perched high atop a mountain. It was too late to see the view beyond her balcony, too late to see anything but darkness. Macey knew she should crash into the bed, but when she closed her eyes, she just kept seeing Patrick’s dead body. Daniel’s body.

The fire.

The nails.

So she wasn’t closing her eyes.

She was upstairs, in the loft bedroom. The loft bedroom consisted of a four-poster wooden bed, a chest of drawers that appeared to be hand-carved, an overstuffed chair and a pool table. Pool tables seemed to be standard fare in the local cabins, an extra activity for families on vacation. The pool table was situated about five feet from the bottom of the bed. She could look past that pool table and see the floor-to-ceiling windows that separated the interior of the cabin from the sweeping balcony. She could see the darkness.

The darkness was better than seeing the dead.

Her steps were slow as she headed toward the windows and the French doors that led outside. The wood creaked beneath her feet, and Macey froze.

Was Bowen awake downstairs? He’d taken the downstairs bedroom. He’d looked as tired as she had when they arrived. Tired, but furious. She’d seen the rage glittering in his gaze. He was pissed that their perp had gotten away.

So was she.

She didn’t hear a sound from downstairs, so Macey slowly opened one of the French doors. The cool air slipped inside, swirling over her legs. She wore an old FBI T-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts. When she stepped onto the balcony, her bare toes curled against the wood. There were stars out there, so many, glittering in the sky. She moved to the edge of the balcony and her hands pressed to the wooden railing. A hot tub was to her left, another staple of cabins in the area. Local cabins seemed to come equipped with all the bells and whistles. The cover was on the hot tub, but she could hear the low hum coming from beneath it—a sure sign that the tub was working. Two rocking chairs were to her right, but Macey didn’t go toward them. She stood exactly where she was and stared into the night.

And she thought about killers.

About the killers who hid in plain sight.

About the killers she’d known. The monsters who’d come into her path while she was at the FBI.

The monster who’d found her long before her Bureau days.

She thought about the man they were hunting now—the perp who’d beaten them to the two most wanted killers.

And Macey thought about Lydia... Poor Lydia Chasing, who’d been in love with a killer and she hadn’t even known it. Now Lydia would be burying her lover.

A lover who’d had nails embedded into his body.

Nails. Why did he use those nails?

She heard the creak of the door opening, and Macey spun around, her heart racing. She hadn’t turned on any exterior lights, so she just saw a big, dark shadow standing in the doorway. But...

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Bowen rasped. “I heard you moving around up here, and I just wanted to check and make sure you were all right.”

Because that was Bowen. Taking care of the world. “I’m fine.”

At her words, he didn’t back away and ease into the cabin. Instead, he came toward her, silently stalking forward. Macey tensed, and her back bumped into the wood of the balcony railing. Instantly, he reached out and his hands curled around her shoulders. “Careful there,” he said, and she could feel the warmth of his fingers pressing through her shirt. “You take a tumble and that’s one very long way down.”

“I’m not going to fall.”

He didn’t let her go. If anything, his hold tightened on her. “I’ll make sure of that.”

His words sounded like a dark promise. She tilted back her head as she gazed up at him. So much darkness, but she could see him now—thanks to the stars. Big, strong Bowen. Dangerous Bowen. “You shielded me today.”

He didn’t speak.

“You don’t have to do that,” she continued, trying to make her voice brisk. “You don’t need to take the fire for me.” Because that was exactly what he’d done. He’d put himself between her and the blaze. And when the cabin had exploded, he’d grabbed her and held tight, using his body to block hers so that she wouldn’t get burned. She knew he’d gotten some blisters. They’d both gotten bruises. It could have been much worse. And if it had been, Bowen would have taken those injuries. All because he was trying to protect me.