From profiling criminals

to being hunted by a killer.

Asking FBI agent Lucy Sanderson to profile the Back Roads Killer is the only way Bryce Tippett can prove his brother is innocent—unless Lucy becomes the next victim. When someone begins stalking her just as she arrives in town, it falls to the single dad to protect her. But as clues lead in unexpected directions, can they uncover the truth…and survive to expose it?

Covert Operatives

VIRGINIA VAUGHAN is a born-and-raised Mississippi girl. She is blessed to come from a large Southern family, and her fondest memories include listening to stories recounted around the dinner table. She was a lover of books from a young age, devouring tales of romance, danger and love. She soon started writing them herself. You can connect with Virginia through her website, virginiavaughanonline.com, or through the publisher.

Also By Virginia Vaughan

Covert Operatives

Cold Case Cover-Up

Deadly Christmas Duty

Risky Return

Killer Insight

Rangers Under Fire

Yuletide Abduction

Reunion Mission

Ranch Refuge

Mistletoe Reunion Threat

Mission Undercover

Mission: Memory Recall

No Safe Haven

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Killer Insight

Virginia Vaughan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90646-7

KILLER INSIGHT

© 2020 Virginia Vaughan

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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“There’s nothing you could tell me that would change the way I feel about you…”

Lucy wanted to believe that. Bryce was a good and loyal man. How she wanted to lean into him! She fought her own instincts. She had to.

Bruce took the room key from her. “Let me check the room before you go inside.”

He pulled his gun from his holster and pushed open the door, flicking on the light. He opened the bathroom door and, when he did, a blast of gunfire sent Lucy flying backwards. She hit the wall and had the breath knocked from her.

Bryce was holding his shoulder and blood was pooling between his fingers.

Lucy grabbed up Bryce’s gun from the floor and kicked open the bathroom door, but all she saw was a rifle hanging from a wire attached to the ceiling. There was no shooter, only an elaborate booby trap.

“I’m calling for an ambulance.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he barked. “Someone set a

booby trap in your room. That was meant for you, Lucy.”

Whoever had set this trap had intended to kill her.

Bryce had taken the bullet that was meant for her.

Dear Reader,

Thanks so much for joining me in the final chapter of my Covert Operatives series. I’m sad to say goodbye to these characters, but I’m looking forward to a new series with new fun and exciting journeys.

I hope you enjoyed reading Bryce and Lucy’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I loved the idea of taking an FBI profiler—someone trained to see and understand human behavior—and have her confidence thrown a curveball by something happening in her own life that she couldn’t see. Her guilt over her fiancé’s hidden addiction proved that her faith had been in her FBI training and her profiling skills. Ultimately, like we all do, she had to learn that only God can see and know all things.

I love hearing from my readers! You can contact me online through my website www.virginiavaughanonline.com or on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/ginvaughanbooks.

Blessings!

Virginia

He will turn again, he will have compassion upon us; he will subdue our iniquities; and thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea.

—Micah 7:19

This book is dedicated to my friends and family, without whom this writing gig wouldn’t be possible.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

FBI agent Lucy Sanderson stopped running, rested her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. She’d pushed herself on this run, harder than she had in weeks, and her body was pushing back. She glanced around. She’d run farther than she’d planned, and not being familiar with this town, she was uncertain where she was.

She shouldn’t have come so far, or she should have turned back when the streetlights stopped being consistently spaced, but she’d been anxious to get her run in. She needed to get back in shape after letting her regimen lapse for months after her fiancé Danny’s death last year, and her legs ached after the flight down from Washington, DC, then the hour-long drive to the small Texas town of Whitten.

Lucy glanced at her watch. It was after 7:00 p.m., and she really should get back to the bed-and-breakfast where she was staying. Her meeting with Bryce Tippitt, an old marine friend of Danny’s who’d reached out to her for help, was in less than an hour. His brother was accused of killing four women in this sleepy Texas town, but Bryce insisted his brother was innocent and being railroaded by the local police department. She’d agreed to come, anxious to put her FBI-trained profiling skills back to work after the paralyzing self-doubt that had set in after Danny’s death and she’d learned the truth about her fiancé and the lies he’d been telling her.

She shoved her earbuds back in and music filled her ears, drowning out the sounds of nature as she started her run back toward town. It was time to stop sitting on the sidelines and pick up her stalled career where Danny’s death had left it. Her supervisor had encouraged her to come to Whitten, anxious to get her back into profiling, insisting she was good at what she did. Not good enough, however, to see what had been right in front of her face.

Headlights rolled over her, and she glanced over a shoulder to see a car approaching. Lucy moved to the side of the road for it to pass, even though the roadway was clear and there was no oncoming traffic. Instead of speeding around her, the car slowed, then pulled to the side. She stopped and turned toward it, straining to see past the blinding headlights.

Suddenly a man leaped from the car. He was on top of her before she realized what was happening. He pinned her to the ground, and all of Lucy’s instincts kicked in. She fought back, screaming and flailing and calling on every defensive move she’d learned at the academy. She managed to dig her nails into his skin, but, in the end, she was no match for his weight and strength. He pinned her with one arm and pulled a syringe from his pocket.

If he managed to inject her with it, she was done for. She wiggled her arm free and knocked the syringe from his grip. Instead of retrieving it, he punched her several times. Her eyes watered from the pain as the world spun in and out of focus.

She was still dazed as he bound her hands with a zip tie then ripped her phone from the holder on her arm and jerked out her earbuds, throwing the items into the trees. He lifted her, tossing her across his shoulder like a sack of flour. He was quick and efficient, and her limbs felt like rocks as all the fight seemed to drain from her. She couldn’t even cry out for help. Not that there was anyone around to help her. She was in an isolated area. Rookie mistake.

He shoved her into the trunk of his car and slammed the lid, plunging her completely into darkness. Her mind was still working, racing with the thought that she needed to run, to get away, but her body refused to work, still in shock from such a brutal attack.

She was going to die tonight at the hands of the very killer she’d been sent here to stop. The irony of it rushed through her as the brake lights illuminated the trunk in their bright red color and the car took off.

But she wasn’t ready to give up.

Lucy fought to stay awake when blissful unconsciousness pulled at her. She couldn’t succumb to it. If she did, she was dead. She fumbled, her hands searching for some way to free herself from the vehicle. Finally she found the trunk lever. She pushed it and the lid unlatched, bobbing ever so slightly up and down as the car moved along the asphalt.

She could jump free, but not until the car slowed enough. If he caught her and she was injured escaping, she would be in real trouble. But if she waited too long, he might discover the trunk lid unlatched, and her one opportunity for escape would be gone.

The car slowed then turned. Lucy raised up on her elbows to peek out. They were turning onto a dirt road. That wasn’t a good sign. She needed to go now while there might still be traffic in the area so she could flag down someone to help her. The deeper into the woods they drove, the less likely she was to find her way out.

She had to go now.

Lucy shoved open the trunk and jumped out, landing hard on her right ankle. Intense pain shot through her leg, but she didn’t have time to stop and examine her foot. She could still put weight on it, although she would be considerably slower than she would have liked.

A sharp pain through her temple nearly knocked her to the ground. She stumbled into a tree. Her vision was still blurry, and the world was spinning. He’d hit her hard, and she thought she was likely feeling the effects of a concussion. She had to push through. She had no idea where she was or which direction she was heading. All she knew was she had to put some distance between herself and that car.

Lucy heard the squeal of brakes and turned back to look. The car had stopped and the man jumped from the front seat, rifle in hand. She turned and ran as hard as she could, ignoring the pain in her foot or the way the world seemed to change directions. Branches bit into her face and arms, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

Her abductor had the advantage. He might know these woods, and she was running blind and injured. She heard him behind her, chasing her. She recalled the road they’d turned off and knew she had to reach it. She could get lost in these woods and never be heard from again. Her only choice, if she wanted to stay alive, was reaching the road and flagging down a car for help.

Lucy climbed over the embankment and onto the road as headlights appeared in the distance. Relief washed over her. She hurried onto the pavement and waved her arms to try to catch the attention of the driver.

The approaching truck slammed on its brakes and skidded to a halt right in front of her. The driver’s-side door opened and a man jumped out.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She nearly fell at his feet with relief, but he grabbed her arms and held her up. “Help me. Please help me!” she cried. “He’s after me.”

His blue eyes studied her. She was certain her face was swollen and bloody from the beating she’d taken, and he couldn’t help noticing her hands were bound. He glanced around, then took her elbow and ushered her into the cab of his truck.

A girl of about thirteen, her young eyes wide with fear and shock, helped pull her onto the seat. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Lucy scrambled across the seat. “A man. He’s chasing me.”

She noticed the look that passed between the young girl and the man who slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

“You’re safe now,” the girl stated. “My name’s Meghan, and that’s my dad, Bryce. He’ll protect you. He used to be a marine.”

“This man,” Bryce said. “What did he look like?”

She turned to answer him, but noticed movement outside the window. A man stood just clear of the tree line. He scanned the area, then raised his rifle.

“That’s him!” she shouted as he fired. Instinct kicked in, she grabbed the girl and flung them both to the floorboards as a bullet sliced through the windshield, buzzed past her and shattered the back glass.

She couldn’t believe he was still coming after her, even with two witnesses. Bryce’s demeanor was calm even as he sprang into action. He jammed the truck into reverse and hit the accelerator, his expression set even as a second bullet burst through the glass. Lucy lowered her head and shielded the girl as best she could as Bryce quickly turned the truck around and floored it. Another shot rang out, but this one was fainter and she knew he’d managed to put some distance between them and the shooter.

“Are you both okay?” he asked, never letting up on the accelerator.

She glanced at Meghan, who nodded, then Lucy answered him. “We’re okay.” Only then did she notice blood dripping on the seat from a wound to his head. “You’re hit.” She crawled back onto the seat and examined the wound on his ear.

He touched his hand to his head and saw blood, then waved it off like it was nothing. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.”

“You need a hospital.”

“I’m heading there now, using a different road into town.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Lucy jerked back, fear hurtling through her. She didn’t know this man or what he would do to her. “It’s okay,” he reassured her. “I was just going to cut your binds.”

She glanced at her hands, still bound by the zip tie, and realized how silly she was being. This man and his daughter had rescued her. If she hadn’t run into him, her abductor might have caught up to her. She shuddered to think what would have happened to her then. She stared up into the soft blue of Bryce’s eyes, noting also his square jaw and blond beard. He had a kind face, and something about Meghan’s reassurance earlier that he’d been a marine comforted her. He’d certainly proven himself with the calm demeanor he’d maintained while being shot at. She held out her hands, and he quickly sliced through the zip tie.

“I don’t remember seeing you before. What’s your name?” he asked her.

“Lucy. Lucy Sanderson.”

He turned to her, and it was his turn to be shocked. “Danny’s fiancée? I was on my way to see you after I dropped Meghan off at a friend’s house.”

Realization dawned on her. This was the man who’d brought her to town. “You’re Bryce Tippitt.”

“I am. This is my daughter, Meghan.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” the girl said.

“You too.” Suddenly, she did feel safer. She’d never met Bryce, but Danny had spoken fondly of his leadership skills and loyalty, and she’d talked to him on the phone before coming to town. She might have placed his name or voice sooner if her head was clearer. That small connection gave her some level of comfort. The warmth of the heater flowed over her, helping to calm her too. She was safe now.

She took a deep breath, finally allowing the pain and terror of the last hour to grab hold. Her ankle ached, her head pounded and every muscle in her body felt like stone. But she was free. She’d escaped a killer. And she owed her life to this man and his daughter.

She settled back against the seat, closed her eyes and listened to the hum of road as the darkness she’d been fighting finally took her.

“Daddy, she’s out!” Meghan yelled.

Bryce turned and saw Lucy’s head bob as she lost consciousness. He pulled the truck to the shoulder, then turned to check Lucy’s pulse. It was weak. “Lucy, wake up,” Bryce said, shaking her petite shoulders. Her dark hair slipped over her face. All he’d seen of her face earlier that wasn’t covered in dirt and blood was a pair of frightened green eyes staring back at him. He wished she would open them now. He was just noticing the dark bruise forming on her face, along with multiple scratches and a busted lip. Someone had beaten her. He tried to reassure his daughter. “She’s been running on adrenaline. It’s wearing off. She’ll be fine once we get her to the hospital.” He put the truck back into gear and took off again.

They were taking a longer route to town around the river, but he wasn’t about to turn and go back the other way, not when a maniac with a gun was out there. He was probably long gone by now, having missed his chance to follow them, but Bryce wasn’t taking any chances.

He dialed 911 on his cell phone, told the operator who answered what had happened and where they were headed, and she promised to have someone from the police department meet them at the hospital.

“Dad, the guy that attacked Lucy. Was it...?” Meghan’s voice was low and soft and she couldn’t finish the question, but he knew she was asking about the killer on the loose. It was a sad day when even thirteen-year-olds had to be worried about their own safety.

“We don’t know that,” he said, trying to reassure her, but was implying someone else was out there preying on women any better than knowing one killer was on the loose? His stomach rolled at the thought of what she’d escaped from. “Probably,” he conceded.

Bryce’s heart hammered against his chest. They’d encountered the man the press had dubbed the Back Roads Killer, the man who’d caused the deaths his brother was accused of. His gut churned thinking how close his daughter had been to that madman. His next thought was anger as he realized he couldn’t even identify the man who’d shot at them. Another opportunity to bring the real killer to justice, and he’d missed it.

Or maybe they hadn’t. He glanced at the woman on the seat beside him. What tale would she have when she awoke? Would she be able to describe her attacker? To his knowledge, she was the first to escape, the first who might be able to put a name and a face to the man who had terrorized this town for over a year.

His eyes fell on his brother’s contact number on his phone, and dread pumped through him. He pushed the speed dial for Clint’s number, each ring sending waves of worry through him. Finally the call rolled over to voice mail, and Bryce left a message telling his brother to call him ASAP.

He shouldn’t be making so many calls while driving, but reaching his brother was important. The local police had zeroed in on Clint as their prime suspect in the murders because his girlfriend, Jessica, had been the first victim, but his brother was no killer. Would someone from the FBI with no preconceived ideas about Clint have a fresh perspective and see this case for what it was? That had been his hope when he’d reached out to her for help. Would she be able to finally clear his brother’s name? She already had an advantage no one else had had before. She’d seen and escaped the attacker. He’d been burned before by government types who’d promised to help him then did nothing, yet he still dared to hope this time would be different. It was all he could do.

Police lights in his mirror caught his attention. A police cruiser pulled up beside him and motioned for him to roll down the window. He recognized the officer in the passenger’s seat as Jacob Newell.

He rolled down his window and Jacob spoke to him over the roar of the road. “Follow us to the hospital. We’ll escort you.” The police cruiser turned on its sirens and roared away. Bryce hit the accelerator and followed, all the while sending up prayers that when this beautiful brunette beside him awoke, she would be able to point the finger at her attacker, catch a killer who had preyed on his town for too long and clear his brother’s name once and for all. It was a lot to ask, but she’d already proven she was strong. Strong enough to escape a killer.

They arrived at the emergency room, and Lucy was whisked away on a gurney while Bryce was ushered into a curtained area to have his ear examined. He hadn’t even realized he’d been shot until Lucy pointed it out. His own adrenaline had gone on high alert when he’d seen the gunman. It hadn’t been his first firefight by any means—he’d seen plenty during his time as a marine and while working covert security for the CIA as part of the Special Operations Abroad team, or SOA—but his daughter had been with him and his main concern had been getting her to safety...her and the woman who’d pushed Meghan to the floorboards before he could even react. He hadn’t missed that unselfish act. She’d escaped a killer but had thought of another person when the shooting started.

Meghan stayed close by his side, her worry evident despite his assurances that he wasn’t hurt badly. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him. She was shaking, and rightly so. No one so young should ever have to witness what she had, or experience being shot at.

“We’re okay now,” he assured her.

“What about Lucy?” she asked.

The curtain flung open and Cassidy Summers, Bryce’s longtime friend and a nurse at the hospital, stood there looking surprised and worried. “What happened?” she asked as she walked in and removed the gauze the first attendant had placed over his ear to stop the bleeding.

“We found a woman on the road,” Meghan told her. “She’d been attacked and kidnapped, but she escaped and flagged us down. Then he started shooting at us!”

Cassidy shot Bryce a look. “It’s true then? I’ve heard people saying someone escaped the Back Roads Killer. The whole hospital has been in an uproar about it since the call came in.”

Bryce nodded. “It is true. Her name is Lucy Sanderson. She’s an FBI profiler. I asked her to come to town to help me prove Clint’s innocence. Instead, she was nearly killed by that maniac.”

Cassidy examined his ear. “It’s only a graze. You don’t even need stitches. I’ll bandage you up, and you can head home.”

“Daddy, can’t we stay and check on Lucy? I want to make certain she’s okay.”

He had the same concern. “We will, Meghan. I want to know too. Besides, I’m the one who invited her here. I feel responsible.”

A commotion in the lobby caused Cassidy to push back the curtain. Several reporters with TV cameras and sound equipment were setting up in the waiting area. Cassidy groaned. “The newspeople are here already. That was quick.”

He stood and pulled on his jacket. “News spreads fast in this town. Wait until they learn she’s with the FBI.” He turned to Cassidy. “Thanks for patching me up. Do you know where they took Lucy?”

“Down the hall to the last room on the left.” She grabbed his arm, pulling him back from barreling ahead. “Bryce, Meghan really shouldn’t be here around this craziness. Shouldn’t you take her home?”

Cassidy was always his voice of reason, but Bryce knew his daughter was too kindhearted to be able to leave without making sure Lucy was okay first. “I will after we know Lucy is okay.”

The disapproving look on her face told him she didn’t think he was making the smart choice to drag his thirteen-year-old daughter along with him, but she didn’t argue the point.

He grabbed Meghan’s hand and followed Cassidy down the hallway as Jim Ross, a detective with the local task force set up to find the Back Roads Killer, stepped in front of the reporters and issued a statement about the night’s events.

Cassidy stopped in front of the door. “Wait here. I’ll go inside and see if the doctor is still with her.”

Bryce agreed and pulled out his cell phone, trying his brother again while they waited. Once again, the call went straight to voice mail. Where was Clint, and why wasn’t he answering his phone?

Lucy had been frightened when she woke up in the hospital with no memory of how she’d gotten there. But then the pieces started coming back to her. The blitz attack. Being beaten and dumped into the trunk of a car. Escaping and being shot at. And the handsome marine and his daughter who’d rescued her.

The nurse spoke in a hushed tone to another nurse, then walked to her bed. “You’ve got some people wanting to see you. Are you up for it?”

Lucy nodded. She owed her life to Bryce Tippitt and his daughter, and she was anxious to hear if they were both all right.

Meghan hurried into the room, followed by Bryce and another man she didn’t recognize. Meghan rushed to the bed and threw her arms around Lucy. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Lucy was surprised by the affectionate act, but assured her she was fine.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Bryce said, standing beside her bed, his head cocked in a concerned manner as his steely blue eyes watched her.

“I owe you my life, Bryce Tippitt. You and your daughter.” She reached for his hand and clasped it, a comfortable warmth flowing through her.

“I’m glad we were there to help.”

Meghan beamed with pride as the other man stepped forward.

“Ma’am, I’m Detective Jim Ross, head of the Back Roads Killer task force.”

She shuddered at the name they’d given this offender. The Back Roads Killer. It seemed to fit. She’d met him and nearly become his latest victim.

“I’d like to ask you what you remember about the attack.”

“We should give you some privacy,” Bryce stated, pulling his hand from Lucy’s, but her instincts kicked in and she pulled it back.

“Please don’t leave me.” It was an irrational request that came out of nowhere, but after what she’d endured tonight, she felt better having this handsome almost-stranger around at least until she got her bearings again. Her safety seemed to depend upon his presence. His daughter’s words replayed in her mind. You’re safe now. He’ll protect you. He used to be a marine.

He hesitated, and she realized it was too much to ask. He had somewhere else to be, and she was imposing on his time. He had his daughter with him, and she suddenly realized he needed to see to her. She pulled her hand away and started to take back her request when he tightened his grip.

“I’ll stay for as long as you need.” He looked past Lucy to his daughter. “But you should wait outside.” He motioned one of the nurses, who stepped forward.

“I’ll take her. Come on, Meghan.”

The girl protested. “Do I have to? Can’t I please stay for a while longer?”

“No. This is police business.”

“Can I come back to see you?” Meghan asked, and Lucy was glad for it.

“Absolutely. Anytime.”

Once they’d left the room, Detective Ross turned to her. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened tonight.”

Lucy sat up in the bed, ignoring the pounding in her head and the pain snaking up her ankle. She needed to recall every detail as clearly as she could, knowing that the smallest thing could lead them to the killer. “I arrived in town about five this afternoon and decided to take a run before meeting Bryce. I realized it was getting late, so I turned around near an old gas station to head back to town. That’s when I noticed a car heading for me. It slowed down then stopped, and a man jumped out, grabbed me, then pinned me down and tried to inject something into my neck, but I managed to knock it from his hand so he hit me instead. I was barely conscious when he put me in the trunk of his car. I’m not sure how long I was in it, but I was eventually able to pop the trunk and run for help. That’s when I flagged down Bryce and Meghan.”

“Did you see the man’s face?”

She saw Bryce tense and stand at attention in response to the question. She strained to remember something notable about the man, but it had all happened so quickly. She shook her head. “I think there was something covering it. He was wearing a hat low, but something about his face was obscured.”

Bryce slouched again, and she felt his disappointment and remembered she was here because his brother was the main suspect in this case. He’d probably been hoping she could identify her attacker as someone else.

“Where did this occur?” Detective Ross asked.

“I—I don’t know. I’m not familiar with this town. If I can see a map, I might be able to pick out the area.”

Ross pulled up a map of town on his cell phone and handed it to her, pointing out where Mrs. Ferguson’s B&B, the starting point for her run, was located for her to reference. She outlined the route she’d run, then estimated the place where the man had abducted her. “Right there. I turned around at that old service station. I’d only run a few minutes when the car approached me.”

“I’ll send a team out there to look for evidence. What about the vehicle? Can you describe it?”

“It was a sedan. Four doors. Silver, I think. Other than that, I didn’t see much. It all happened so fast.” She saw the look he gave her as he jotted the information in a notebook, and her face burned with embarrassment. She was an agent from the FBI. She should have had better observational skills. Yes, it had been dark and happened quickly, but she was a trained professional and should have noticed more details. Then she remembered something important. “I scratched him.” Detective Ross glanced up at her, and Bryce stood at attention. “I scratched his arm. I felt my fingernails dig into it.” She raised her hand to look at her fingernails as excitement bubbled through her. “I have his DNA under my fingernails.”

Bryce’s eyes brightened, matching her own excitement. “This is it,” he said. “This is the proof we need to prove my brother’s innocence and finally track down the real killer.”

“I’ll go find a lab tech to collect the samples,” Ross said before walking out.

Bryce ran a hand over his face, beaming. She liked the way it looked. “You did it. When I asked you to come here and help me prove my brother’s innocence, this wasn’t what I had in mind, but you did it.”

“It’s not exactly what I had in mind either when I agreed to come.” But that didn’t matter anymore. While profiling had value and often helped identify suspects, physical evidence of her attacker could not be refuted.

Bryce pulled up a chair, careful not to touch her hands again until the lab technician could scrape beneath her nails. “I never told you how sorry I was about Danny’s death. I had no idea when I contacted you.”

His condolences caught her off guard, and she struggled to respond. She hadn’t handled his death well, and even now, the mention of his name filled her with grief and guilt. “I should have reached out to his friends. I just—I just couldn’t deal with telling people at the time.”

“How did it happen?”

She was always uncomfortable with knowing how much to share about what had happened. “It was a car accident. He hit another car—a van—with a family inside. No one survived.” She didn’t tell him the rest. He deserved to think better of his friend, and what would he think of her profiling skills if he knew Danny had been under the influence of drugs when he hit that van or that she’d had no idea about his addiction to painkillers? It didn’t say much about her profiling skills that he’d fooled her for months.

Ross reentered the room with a lab technician who got busy scraping beneath her nails and collecting the skin samples.

“Send these to the FBI crime lab,” Lucy told him. “I’ll call my boss and have them fast-tracked. But even then, it’ll be weeks before the results are back. In the meantime, I’d like to see the case files so I can work up a profile.”

Ross nodded. “I’ll have them copied and sent to you.”

“When he contacted me, Bryce said the task force is focusing on his brother as their main suspect. How solid is the case against him?”

“It’s mostly circumstantial. That’s why we haven’t been able to make an arrest yet. It’s also the reason I was able to convince my chief to allow you to consult on this case. He’s anxious for some solid leads. I told him you would be able to provide some. He wants to make an arrest before another woman dies.”

“This evidence will prove my brother is innocent,” Bryce insisted. “Your task force needs to turn its focus elsewhere.”

“Right now, we’re focusing on the leads we have. I’m heading out to the scene where you were attacked, Agent Sanderson.” He set his card on the tray in front of her. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

“I will.”

He nodded to them both then headed out. Moments later the lab technician finished collecting her samples and left.

Lucy glanced at Bryce, now so excited for this new development that could prove his brother’s innocence. She’d offered her services, but profiling wasn’t an exact science. She might not be able to completely rule out Clint Tippitt as a suspect. DNA might do that...or it might prove his guilt. She wondered if Bryce was ready for that outcome. Did he believe in Clint, or was he foolishly blind to the truth? She’d been that way with Danny—blinded by love to who he really was—and people had died because of it. She hoped Bryce Tippitt wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“I should go check on Meghan and make sure she gets home safely.”

“Of course. Go. She needs you.” She felt silly for her earlier exclamation asking him to stay. He had a responsibility to his daughter first and foremost. “I’ll be fine.”

“I would normally ask my friend Cassidy to take her. They spend a lot a time together. She’s like a mother to Meghan, but she’s working. I’ll take her to her friend’s house, then I’ll come back afterward and check on you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine, Bryce. Really.”

“I’ll be back,” he assured her. “In the meantime, I’m going to ask Cassidy to check up on you. She’s the nurse who took Meghan out of here earlier. She’ll take care of you.”

She assured him again she was fine, and he left. She had to admit she was glad he was coming back. Silly or not, she felt better with him around. She didn’t know if it was because he’d saved her life or because he was her only contact in town—or simply just her last, final connection to Danny. Whatever the reason, Bryce Tippitt and his daughter had made an impact on her. For the first time since Danny’s death, she didn’t feel quite so alone.

The door opened and a nurse entered, pushing a rolling cart loaded with bouquets of flowers. “These arrived for you,” she said happily.

Lucy was confused. “Who are they from? Who even knows I’m here?” She didn’t know anyone in town, and none of her friends or family back in Virginia could have known about the attack already.

“Honey, it’s already all over the news that you were attacked and managed to escape. These are from well-wishers all over town.”

She set a vase with flowers on the table beside the bed, and Lucy felt her eyes starting to water at the aroma of the fresh-cut flowers. “They’re lovely, but I have allergies. Could you set them by the window where I can see them, but they’re not close enough to aggravate my allergies?”

“Of course.” She moved the flowers to the corner of the room, then pulled out the cards and handed them to Lucy so she could look through them. “If the police are done with their questioning, I’ll see about getting you something for the pain so you can rest tonight. With no evidence of anything broken and only a mild concussion, the doctor says you’ll probably be released in the morning.”

Lucy was glad to hear it. She would also be glad to get out of this hospital bed and the gown and into regular clothes. Mostly, she would be glad to stop feeling like a victim and get back to finding the killer. Yes, they had his DNA, but it would take time for the lab results to come back, and until they did, the women of this town were still in danger.

She glanced at the cart of flowers. The scent was still tickling her nose, but they were far enough away to prevent a full-blown flare up. There were at least fifteen bouquets. Fifteen people who didn’t know her but had heard about her predicament on the news and felt compelled to send her get-well flowers. Those small acts of kindness spoke more about this town than the killer on the loose did.

Lucy picked up the stack of note cards that had accompanied the flowers and looked through them. Most of the names she didn’t know, but one stood out. Mrs. Ferguson, the owner of the B&B where she was staying, had sent her an arrangement. That was sweet—Lucy would be sure to thank her.

She flipped to the next card and the warm, comforting feeling she’d been floating on turned to chills. Beneath the buzzing bee symbol of the flower shop was a threat.

Next time you die.

Bryce dropped Meghan off at a friend’s house for the night, then booked it back to the hospital. He knew he didn’t have to stay with Lucy. The nurse had assured him she would rest most of the night. But he wanted to be there, since he was the one who’d brought her to town.

And it had nothing to do with the way her hand had felt so light and delicate in his. Nope. Nothing at all.

He tried to phone his brother again as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. There was still no answer from Clint, no response to his repeated text messages and no return call. He didn’t like it. Another woman had been attacked, and his brother was MIA. It wouldn’t look good if he couldn’t explain where he’d been. The least Bryce could hope for was that his brother was somewhere that ten or twelve witnesses could place him for the whole night.

He hated that his mind went there. A woman was attacked in his town, and he was worried about his brother’s alibi? It wasn’t right, but it was the situation they found themselves in now. But the situation had changed for the better thanks to Lucy. She’d gotten DNA evidence from the man who’d attacked her, evidence that would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t Clint.

He headed to Lucy’s room and found Jim Ross talking to her, along with two members of his forensics team.

“What’s going on?” he asked as they were bagging up bouquets of flowers from a cart in the corner.

He noticed Lucy looked even paler than she had earlier, the bruise on her face darker and more pronounced. She held up an evidence bag with a card inside. “The nurse brought in all these flowers from well-wishers. This note was attached to one of them.”

He didn’t miss the way her hand shook as she held it out to him. He took the bag and looked at it, his blood going cold at the threat. “Do we know who sent this?”

“Not yet,” Ross told him. “The nurse removed all the cards from the bouquets, so we don’t even know which one it was attached to. I’m having my people bag all the flowers in case, and we’ll run the card for fingerprints to see if we get a hit. Right now, that’s all we can do. I’ve got most of my resources tied up at the abduction site gathering evidence. Once we’re done with that, we’ll interview the people at the flower shop.”

“I’ll do it,” Lucy volunteered.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ross countered. “You’re the victim.”

But she wasn’t backing down. She squared her shoulders as she locked eyes with him. “I’m also an FBI agent trained in interview and interrogation. I want to do this.” She pushed back the blankets and tried to stand. Bryce quickly helped her when her knees threatened to buckle. She clearly wasn’t up for this tonight.

“I’ll go with her,” Bryce suggested. “But the shop will already be closed tonight.” He glanced at Ross, who shrugged.

“Fine. Let me know if anything comes of it. Who would have a reason to threaten you?” Ross asked her.

“Besides the man who abducted and tried to murder me, you mean?”

“Yes, besides him.”

Lucy sighed and settled back down on the bed, giving up the pretense of trying to stand. Good. She didn’t need to push herself. “I don’t know anyone in this town and, to my knowledge, the only people who knew I was coming were you and Bryce. Has this perpetrator reached out to the police or media before?”

Ross shook his head. “No. We’ve never received any form of communication from him.”

“Then either learning the FBI was involved bolstered his ego, or else he meant this threat for me personally.”

“The news has been broadcasting that you’re FBI,” Bryce told her. Her attack and escape from the killer were all anyone in town was talking about tonight. He’d even had to spend several minutes at Meghan’s friend’s house chitchatting about it with her mother before he’d been able to leave.

“Still, it’s an unlikely scenario,” Lucy continued. “If he was interested in taunting the police, he would have established contact before now. He likely sees me as a loose end—the one that got away and can give evidence that might lead police to him—or else as a challenge.”

“Either way, you’re a target,” Bryce stated. He didn’t like that scenario. She was still in danger because of him, because he’d asked her to come here. It was his duty, his responsibility to keep her safe. “I’ll stay with you.”

“I can take care of myself,” she assured him, but he waved off her show of strength. She was in this mess because of him, and he had a duty to keep her safe. He owed it to her and to Danny, but most of all, he’d borne the responsibility of placing others in danger before, with terrible results. He wasn’t sure he could go through that again.

“I’m not leaving.”

She stared up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and acceptance. “Okay, but only until I fall asleep. Then I insist you go home. The doctor will be releasing me in the morning. We’ll go interview the floral shop employees then.”

Ross nodded. “Great. Let me know what you find out.” The forensics team signaled they were done, and Ross turned to leave. “I’m heading back out to the abduction site. I’ll let you know if we find anything. I’ll also have those files we talked about sent to the B&B.”

“Thank you, Detective.”

Bryce extended his hand and shook Ross’s. “I appreciate all you’re doing,” he said, and he meant it. Ross hadn’t had to go to bat for him with the chief and allow him to bring in the FBI, but he had and he was always fair enough to look at all the leads before making any conclusions. Bryce wished all the officers on the force showed the same restraint.

The nurse arrived and gave her something to help her pain, and Lucy seemed to rest better after that. Once she was sleeping soundly, Bryce slipped from the room and took up guard duty outside her door.

He passed the time by continuing to try to reach his brother and looking up the details of Danny’s death. Something about the expression on Lucy’s face when she’d told him about the car crash had left him wondering. He was sure she’d been hesitating, holding something back, and he feared the worst as he scoured the internet for news about the crash that had killed Danny and a family in a van.

He found articles on the crash from the previous year. A family of four, including two children, were killed when another driver had barreled through a traffic light and crashed into them. The driver of the car was also killed, and found to be under the influence of prescription medication at the time of the crash.

So that was what she hadn’t wanted to tell him. Danny had been abusing prescription meds. Bryce sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as weariness weighed heavily on him. He’d known too many men, good men, who’d succumbed to addiction after suffering injuries in the service. As far as he’d known, Danny’s injuries during his last combat mission hadn’t been severe, certainly nothing that would have prevented him from returning after recovery. But he’d decided it was time to leave military life and focus on a career in law. The last time Bryce had spoken to Danny, he’d been excited about graduating law school and being hired by a criminal defense firm. He’d also been excited about planning a life with Lucy.

How easily it had all faded away.

He clicked on an image on his phone of him and Meghan taken only a few days after he’d returned home from his last mission as an SOA operator. It had been a rescue mission at an embassy and people had died, people he’d sent in to help the embassy workers. In an instant, his decision had cost three families their husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. It was a burden he had to live with, and one he didn’t shoulder lightly.

He would look after Lucy because he owed it to her for the danger he’d placed her in. But he had to be careful too. He recalled how enamored Meghan had been with the lovely brunette FBI agent. She’d already texted him twice since he’d left her at her friend’s house to check on her, and that was only after gushing about Lucy to her friend for several minutes after she’d arrived.

Yes, Lucy was turning out to be a fierce, amazingly strong federal agent, but that was all she could ever be in their lives. The press had called his SOA team heroes for acting to save lives, but his own government had labeled him insubordinate for not obeying their command to stand down and ignore the tragedy unfolding at the embassy. Lucy was a government agent, and Bryce had learned the hard way that his government could not be trusted—therefore Lucy could not be trusted.

No matter how her eyes seemed to twinkle at him.

TWO

Bryce arrived at the hospital the next morning carrying a suitcase. “I stopped by the B&B and asked Mrs. Ferguson to pack you some clothes from your room. I hope that’s okay.”

It was more than okay. It was wonderful, and Lucy was grateful he’d thought of it. She slipped from the hospital gown into a pair of jeans and a blouse and was finally starting to feel like a person again. She stared at herself in the mirror and saw a stranger staring back at her. The big ugly bruise took up one side of her face, and a busted lip completed the look.

The beating had been severe, and it was a blessing she hadn’t sustained more than a mild concussion. Thinking about what might have been had been enough to keep her awake all night. Even now it made her stomach roll. She’d come to town to catch a killer, not to become his next victim.

“Thank you for the clothes,” she told Bryce as she emerged from the bathroom where she’d changed. Last night the police had confiscated her running shoes for evidence, but Mrs. Ferguson had remembered to include another pair in the bag. She slipped them on, grimacing at the action. Her entire body ached from her ordeal, and she noticed Bryce didn’t miss her grunts of pain.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be staying here?” he asked her.

She waved off his concerns. “I’m fine. Just a little sore. Getting out and moving will certainly help.” That and the massive bottle of Tylenol she planned to keep with her at all times. The doctor had prescribed her painkillers, but she was hesitant to use them unless absolutely necessary. She wanted to be as alert as possible, and she’d tried to avoid strong painkillers ever since discovering Danny’s addiction to them.

Bryce helped her slip into her jacket, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders seemed to take up all her space, yet his hands were gentle as he helped her. It was strange to her that ever since hearing his daughter tell her that she would be okay because her dad was a marine, she had felt safer whenever he was around.

She shook off those feelings. She’d come here for a purpose, and it wasn’t to cozy up to Bryce Tippitt. She couldn’t even think about such things, not after what she’d been through with Danny. She had to keep her head about her and not get lulled into a sense of comfort. For all she knew, Bryce knew his brother was guilty and was grasping at straws to pin his crimes on another man. It was essential that she maintain her objectivity.

“I think we should head to the floral shop first,” she said. She’d jotted down the name of the shop that bore the logo on the threatening note. “It was Busy Bee Flowers. Are you familiar with that shop?”

“Of course. I know right where it is.”

“Good. Let’s go then.”

She was glad to get out of the hospital and ready to stop feeling like such an invalid. Wearing normal clothes certainly helped, but working out the kinks in her joints would make her feel better too.

The hospital insisted on forcing her to use a wheelchair until they reached the front doors. She hated it—one more reason she was glad to get out of there.

“I’ve already driven my pickup to the front doors,” Bryce said as he wheeled her toward them. “A buddy of mine was able to replace the shattered back glass first thing this morning.” He stopped abruptly.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, glancing at the front doors. A group of people stood on the front stoop, blocking the path between the door and his truck. She spotted several cameras and knew they were the press. “What should we do?”

“We can find another way out, but I’ll have to get my truck sometime.”

“I can’t ignore them forever. Let’s just go through them. Let them have their photo op.”

He nodded and pushed her toward the door. Once it slid open, the group turned and started snapping photos. Microphones were pushed into her face, and people shouted questions at her.

She ignored them, keeping her head down as Bryce opened the passenger door to his truck and helped her inside, leaving the wheelchair on the sidewalk. She was grateful for his calm manner and the hand on her back to keep her steady. She’d thought she could handle this, but the flashes of light and the shouting were unbearable. She was thankful when he slammed the door shut. She covered her face as he walked around, climbed into the driver’s seat and took off.

It was all too reminiscent of the days after Danny’s death and the constant harassment by the press for a comment. She didn’t know what they’d expected her to say. Nothing she could have said would have changed anything or brought any of them back to life.

The drive to the flower shop gave her enough time to pull herself together. Once they arrived, Bryce walked around and helped her out. He kept his distance enough to give her some sense of dignity, but he didn’t stay so far away he couldn’t help her if she stumbled. She recognized that and appreciated it.

She stepped into the shop and was immediately hit with the scent of flowers. Her eyes began to water as her allergies kicked in. This was going to be a quick interview, or else they were going to have to go into the back room.

She pulled out her FBI credentials and showed them to the clerk on duty. “I’d like to ask you some questions about a delivery that was made to Whitten Medical Center last night.”

The woman behind the counter was in her forties with short hair and soft eyes. “Of course. I’m the owner, Charlotte Manchester. We had several deliveries there last night for the woman who escaped the serial killer. That was something special. That was you, wasn’t it? Everyone who came in was excited that finally someone can identify him. It’s what we’ve all been waiting for.”

Lucy smiled at her, thankful for her kind sentiments. She hated to tell her that she couldn’t identify him, that it had all happened so fast and that her attacker’s face was nothing more than a blur in her mind. So she wouldn’t tell her that. If the police wanted that information released, they would be the ones to do so. It wasn’t smart to let the killer know she couldn’t identify him, although it might take her out of his sights.

“That was me.” There was no point in denying it. Her face would be all over the news in a matter of hours after the show while leaving the hospital. Plus how many FBI agents would be in town looking like they’d just gone several rounds in the boxing ring? “I received several very nice bouquets. The one I’m interested in came with this note.” She pulled out a copy of the card Detective Ross had given her.

The woman read it and her face paled. “Oh my. That’s terrible.”

“Do you recall who wrote that?”

“No. Most of our orders were placed over the phone or online, but we did have several people walk in yesterday evening to purchase flowers. We were unusually busy last night. The entire town was excited about your escape. It had to be one of them, otherwise someone here would have written the card and I don’t recognize this handwriting.”

“But you don’t know who that person was?”

“No. I wouldn’t have sent it out knowing the note said something like that.”

“Okay, what about receipts. Did anyone who came in pay with a credit card?”

“Yes, I have those records, although we had several people pay in cash. They’re more likely to pay with cash if they come into the store.”

“I’d like to see those receipts. I’d also like to know who else worked last night.”

“I only have two other employees who help me. They both work part-time. I’ll get you their names. And I’ll copy that list for you.” She disappeared into the back room.

“What do you think?” Bryce asked her.

“I think it’s a dead end. I doubt someone who wrote that on a card would pay with a credit card, but we still have to check it out. Maybe Detective Ross will find a fingerprint to identify him.”

“Do you really think the person who attacked you walked in here and purchased flowers for you? Wouldn’t he be worried about being seen?”

Most people would think that, but Lucy knew from her experience that serial killers had a different mind-set than most regular people. “Serial killers are known for being able to blend into society. It’s why so many of them get away with it for so long.”

Mrs. Manchester returned with the list. Lucy thanked her for her help and turned to leave, when the woman stopped her with a question. “You can identify him, can’t you, Agent Sanderson? Please tell me this nightmare is over and you know who the killer is. It will put a lot of people at rest to know.”

She glanced at Bryce, and Lucy knew she was anxious to hear if Clint Tippitt had been the one behind her attack. She saw Bryce flush with embarrassment. “I really can’t say,” Lucy told the woman. “It’s still an ongoing investigation.” She held up the paper. “Thank you for your help though, and have a nice day.”

She and Bryce walked back outside to his truck, and he helped her inside. Despite her blustering to Detective Ross yesterday about her ability to interview and interrogate witnesses, she was glad this venture hadn’t called for that. She was tired and in more pain today than she had been yesterday. Her ankle was already protesting the short walk, and her head was pounding.

Bryce must have noticed because he suggested returning to the B&B. “I saw some boxes when I was there earlier, probably the ones Jim Ross sent over about the case.”

He was giving her a way out of her posturing. Once again, she owed him. “You’re right. I really should focus my attention on the cases. If I’m going to identify this killer, the clues will be in those files.”

Bryce drove Lucy to the B&B where Mrs. Ferguson, an elderly lady with a lot of spunk and a big smile, greeted them at the door and gushed over Lucy.

“I heard what happened. How terrible for you, Lucy. Are you okay, dear?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson. I’m fine. Thank you for packing me some clothes. I also got your flowers last night. Sadly, the police had to confiscate all of them.”

“What on earth for?”

Bryce set down her bag by the staircase. “It was a precaution. Someone sent Lucy a threatening message using flowers.”

“How strange,” the woman stated. “Two police officers brought by some boxes for you. They said they were files you requested. I had them leave them down here in the dining room. You’re welcome to use the table if you need the room to go through them.”

Lucy looked over and saw six boxes sitting in the corner of the dining room. The table would provide her more room, but she didn’t think anyone would care for graphic images of murdered women lying around. “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Ferguson, but some of the images may be disturbing. You don’t want them displayed in here.”

“Well, it’s only you and me here. I don’t have any other guests right now, and I promise not to look. There’s also a den in the back of the house. It has doors so you can close off the room. You’re welcome to use that if you’d rather.”

Lucy thanked her again and finally agreed to use the back room. With Bryce’s help, she unloaded the files from their boxes, stacked them into appropriate piles and taped up photos of the victims, turning nearly one entire wall into an evidence wall.

She stared at the images of the victims. Her body ached from the attack and she wasn’t at her best, but she had work to do and she was anxious to get to it.

She had a killer to catch.

Bryce helped Lucy unload the files, then spent the next several hours going through each case. The photos of the murdered women made his stomach roll. The thought that anyone could inflict such violence on another person angered and disgusted him. Yes, he’d seen violence. He’d even participated in it when necessary, but the face-to-face destruction of another person sickened him.

And to think his brother was being accused of these crimes.

“The last three victims all share the same modus operandi. They were all abducted, missing for several days, then found with their throats slashed.” Lucy picked up the photo of Jessica Nelson, the first victim, and his brother Clint’s girlfriend at the time of her disappearance. “Jessica’s case is different. It took place nearly two years before the next victim, and her body was never found.”

“You don’t think it’s related?”

“Physically, it’s impossible to link it to the other victims because she was never found. Her car is missing while the others were on foot when they were abducted, including myself, or else their car was found abandoned. I’ll have to profile the victims to see if there’s any overlap of their lives. I may be able to link them that way.”

Lucy scanned through Jessica’s case. “According to the report, she left Clint’s house in her car headed home around 1:00 a.m. but never made it. Her body was never found, and neither was her car or any of her personal belongings.” She glanced at Bryce. “Did you know her?”

“I did, although I wasn’t around when she went missing. I was working overseas at the time.”

“What was their relationship like?”

“Stormy. They fought a lot.” Bryce knew his brother had loved Jessica and couldn’t imagine him ever hurting her, but their relationship had never been a healthy one. Jealousy, drugs and alcohol had made for a bad mix between them.

“In the report, Clint says no one could confirm she really left that night. He was living alone at the time.”

“Yes, he was.”

“Where was Meghan? Where was she staying?”

“With her mother. That was before she died.”

Lucy gasped. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware you were widowed.”

Her sympathy was appreciated but unnecessary. “Actually, we never married. We dated in high school, then I joined the military. I only learned years later that Bridgette had given birth to Meghan and hadn’t told me. I spent the next several years fighting for my rights in court just to see her.”

“She kept Meghan from you?”

It had been a difficult time in his life, a time when he’d believed everyone and everything was against him. “She did. My family wasn’t exactly known to be upstanding members of the community. Bridgette and her parents fought to keep Meghan from me. In fact, if Cassidy hadn’t written to me telling me about her, I might not have ever known I had a daughter.”

“Cassidy? That was your friend at the hospital?”

“Yes. We grew up together before her folks moved out of town when she was ten. She came back to live with her grandparents and finish high school, and we became friends again. She was probably the only friend I had growing up.” He didn’t know why he was opening up to Lucy this way. He had friends in the military who never knew about his struggles. He was used to keeping things to himself, but something about Lucy made him want to open up and know that he wouldn’t be judged.

“We didn’t have an easy childhood and, I’m sorry to say, I got into a lot of trouble growing up. After my dad died, my mom worked three jobs to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table, but that also meant she wasn’t around much.”

“That sounds like a lonely way to live.”

“I guess it’s true what they say about negative attention being better than no attention. I made sure I received plenty of negative attention. Clint followed every move I made...except when it came to joining the military. He wanted nothing to do with it. Instead, he got into drugs and stealing cars and ended up spending three years in prison, all while I was overseas.”

She reached over and covered his hand with hers. “Well, it looks like you’re doing well enough now. Meghan is a wonderful girl, and I’m sure that’s your influence. You said her mother died?”

“She died in a car crash three years ago. After that, I was able to get sole custody and I worked out a deal with her grandparents. She would stay with them while I was on assignment, and they wouldn’t interfere any longer with my relationship with my daughter. It’s worked out well so far. Only, I’m not sure what will happen now. I don’t know if I’m going back overseas.”

“Because of your brother?”

“No. I’ve been working covert security overseas. A few months ago, my unit was involved in a rescue mission of an American embassy. We were ordered to stand down, but we went in anyway.”

“I heard about that incident. According to the news, you’re all heroes.”

“Well, according to the federal government, we disobeyed orders. Especially now that there’s been so much media coverage about it, I doubt the agency will be offering me another contract assignment.” He surprised himself sharing so much with her. Usually, he was closemouthed about his life and his feelings, but something about Lucy engendered trust in him.

He shook his head, trying to remember that she was part of the government and therefore part of the problem. He’d been burned too many times before, and besides, her hand on his was just a little too appealing to him.

“I should go now,” he said, standing. “It’s getting late and Meghan will be waiting for me.”

He didn’t want to go or leave Lucy, and that bothered him too. He’d grown protective of her in a short time, but he had responsibilities to his daughter too.

“Good night,” he said as he walked out.

He had to keep his emotions under control. Lucy was only here to do a job. Prove his brother innocent—and Bryce wasn’t going to do anything that would jeopardize that.

Lucy yawned and decided to call it a night. She stacked up the files and placed them back into the boxes, wishing she’d asked Bryce to carry them upstairs for her. She could at least take a few files in case she couldn’t sleep, so she wouldn’t have to come back downstairs and disturb Mrs. Ferguson.

The older lady stopped her before she went upstairs. “Is Bryce gone? I was going to offer him some of this lasagna we had for supper to take home to Meghan.”

“I’m sure he’ll be sorry. He just left. It was delicious, by the way. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

“Nonsense. Why do you think I opened this bed-and-breakfast? I enjoy taking care of people. I’ll put the remainder in the refrigerator in case you want some more later.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson, but I think this day is catching up to me. I’m going to take a shower then turn in for the night.”

“Rest well, Lucy. I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen then turn in myself. See you in the morning.”

Lucy walked upstairs. She was tired through and through, but at least today she felt like she’d accomplished something. The flower shop was more than likely a dead end for information about the threatening note, but learning more about the murdered women had helped her get a grip on what was going on in this town.

She knew now why Bryce had reached out to her. It was obvious the police were focusing all their attention on his brother because of his relationship with the missing girl, but after examining all the evidence, she couldn’t find anything to link her disappearance with the murdered women.

She was glad she was here. She was glad to still be able to help people by identifying a killer and aiding in bringing safety back to a community. So kids like Meghan didn’t have to be afraid to go out with her friends.

Why was she thinking about Meghan? Sure, it was for the girl’s sake, but she felt it had more to do with Meghan’s blue-eyed, former marine father and the way his touch had sent sparks through her. But how would Bryce Tippitt feel if her profile didn’t exonerate his brother as the killer? If it gave the local police more leverage against him? She couldn’t worry about that. Her job was to create a behavioral profile based on the evidence collected from each of the crime scenes and victim etiology. And she was good at her job. Or she had been before Danny anyway, before her confidence had taken a nosedive. She couldn’t let someone else, another man no less, disrupt her concentration because she was mildly attracted to his broad shoulders and warm smile.

Stop it, she told herself. She couldn’t go there. Romance was out of the question. She didn’t deserve a second chance at love, and she wasn’t going to risk it again. She took a shower and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt to sleep in.

Suddenly, a large crash from downstairs caught her attention.

Lucy grabbed her gun from the nightstand and hurried downstairs. She called out to Mrs. Ferguson. “Is everything all right?”

No answer. Not even the hum of the woman as she cleaned the dishes.

Lucy walked down the steps. The first night she’d arrived, before her run, the house had been filled with the sounds of Mrs. Ferguson humming as she did the dishes. Tonight, everything was quiet.

Lucy glanced at her watch. Mrs. Ferguson told her she was usually in her chair in front of the TV by this time every night. The television was still off. “Mrs. Ferguson? Is everything all right?”

She had a growing suspicion it was not. Her instincts were kicking in, but she tried to tell herself she was just hyperaware after being abducted, yet she couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling that something wasn’t right. How would she even know what was right or wrong in this house? It was only her second night here.

She approached the kitchen, hoping and praying she would push open the door to find Mrs. Ferguson humming quietly as she handwashed the dishes. No sense using the dishwasher, she’d said, for only two people.

She pushed open the door to the kitchen. It was empty. Hairs were standing up on her neck, a sign that something was seriously wrong. A flash at the window had her spinning around. Someone was there. Outside. She rushed to the door and down the back stoop, staring into the night with only the light from the streetlamp to illuminate the yard.

“Who’s out there?” she demanded.

She stepped into the darkness and moved around the corner of the house. Another shadow flitted, and she hurried to catch up to it.

“FBI! Freeze!” she demanded, but she saw no one when she ran around the back corner. Her ankle was screaming for relief, and her head was beginning to pound. It had been such a long day. Perhaps her nerves were finally getting to her. She headed toward the back door, slamming into a figure as she turned the corner.

A scream lit up the night, and too late Lucy realized she’d knocked down Mrs. Ferguson. Lucy lunged to catch her, but only managed to trip and fall herself. She slammed onto the concrete pavers and rammed her knee into one.

“Mrs. Ferguson, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

The older woman sat up and checked herself. “No, I’m surprisingly uninjured. I’m sorry, dear. You frightened me.”

Lucy scrambled to her feet and helped Mrs. Ferguson up. “I was searching for you. I heard a noise and I was afraid something had happened to you.”

“No, no. I received a call asking if I could walk Mrs. Littleton’s dog because she’d decided to stay another night at her sister’s house. But Mrs. Littleton was at home. She hadn’t even gone to her daughter’s house. Why on earth would someone do that?”

Nothing about that sounded right. “You didn’t recognize the voice?”

“No, but that’s not unusual. I don’t hear that well anymore. I assumed it was her daughter calling me. They have my number, and I’m always glad to help whenever they need me.”

Lucy was certainly willing to believe Mrs. Ferguson was known for her helpfulness. “Perhaps you misunderstood the caller.”

She nodded. “Yes, that must be it.”

Suddenly a figure appeared in the darkness. “What’s going on?”

Lucy spun around, gun raised and all her senses on alert.

Bryce raised his hands and backed up. “Whoa. It’s only me.”

“What are you doing back here?” she asked, her heart rate beginning to slow.

“Mrs. Ferguson called me earlier and said if I wasn’t too far away, I should swing back and take home some of her lasagna for Meghan. I was at the gas station when she phoned.”

“Yes, I did make that call,” Mrs. Ferguson stated. “I’m glad I did. You’re back just in the nick of time. Lucy thinks someone was in the house.”

Bryce’s composure shifted to protective mode. “Are you sure?”

She saw his concern and felt silly at her obvious misinterpretation. “No, I’m not.”

“Let’s check anyway.”

He headed inside, and Lucy instructed Mrs. Ferguson to wait while they searched the house. She and Bryce looked through every room and saw no evidence of an intruder. Lucy was starting to feel like she’d imagined the threat—until she opened the door to the back room.

She shouted for Bryce, who was upstairs checking the bedrooms. She stared at the mess that was now her workspace. All her papers were strewn everywhere, and someone had been searching through her things. And on the wall, in freshly painted large letters, was a threat.

Leave town now or pay the price.

Bryce went through the entire house, checking all the doors and windows. He found what he was looking for in the first-floor living room. One of the back windows had been busted out, and it was obvious the intruder had gotten in that way. That must have been the noise Lucy had heard that made her investigate.

Lucy did her best to make Mrs. Ferguson comfortable while they waited for the police to arrive. He couldn’t help but notice how gentle she was with the older woman, and it spoke of her kindness.

The police arrived and got busy dusting for fingerprints and taking Mrs. Ferguson’s statement about the call she’d received that had lured her out of the house.

Bryce chatted with Jim Ross about the likelihood of finding the person who’d placed the fake call.

“We’ll try to trace the call, but if the guy was smart, he used an untraceable burner. It’s unlikely anything will come of it.”

“At least he didn’t try to harm her.”

Ross nodded. “We’ll increase patrols around her house just in case too.”

“Thanks, Jim. I appreciate it.”

Bryce looked for Lucy and found her in the back room glancing through her evidence files. The offending threat had already been photographed and well documented, but it sickened him to look at. He’d go by the hardware store tomorrow and pick up paint to cover it.

“What are you looking at?” he asked her.

“Just checking to see if anything was bothered.”

“Was it?”

“Only this.” She handed him a photo of Jessica Nelson, the same one they’d looked at earlier. Green paint now dotted its edges.

“He looked through the evidence.”

“This is the only thing I can find with any paint on it. It’s all he touched. I mean, why take the time to break in? What was he looking for? What did he want?”

He motioned toward the threat painted on the wall. “To do that, I suppose.”

“It doesn’t make sense, Bryce. The man who abducted me on the road—” she picked up the evidence photos of the murdered women “—the man who did this, he’s a killer. He wouldn’t be the type of person to orchestrate getting Mrs. Ferguson out of the house and vandalize my room just to frighten me into leaving town. It doesn’t fit what we know about him. Why not snatch us both? Or kill her then come after me?”

“Serial killers have types, don’t they? All of these women are between a certain age. Mrs. Ferguson is in her seventies. Maybe she didn’t fit his type.”

“Then he would have killed her and moved on. Besides, he brought the paint with him. He came here planning to do this with no intention of hurting anyone.”

“Could this be his way of reaching out to you like you said about the note? Taunting you?”

“He has no history of doing that before.” She shook her head, and worry clouded her expression. “It doesn’t feel right.” She sighed then turned to him. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask this—do you know where your brother was an hour ago?”

He hated the suspicion he saw on her face. “I knew someone would be asking me that question.” He hadn’t expected it to be her. He’d brought her here to help his brother, not join the accusers. “The answer is no. I haven’t seen him or spoken to him. But then again, there are a lot of people I haven’t seen today either. You’re only asking about Clint because they’ve put it in your head that he’s involved in those women’s deaths.”

“No, I’m asking because the only photo he bothered was the one of Jessica Nelson. Why would anyone else be interested in it?”

He gave a resigned sigh. Bryce was tired of the constant questioning of his brother’s motives, but she did have a point. “I don’t know. But Clint would have no reason to threaten you. You came to town to help him.”

“I also came here to profile a serial killer. Is it possible he’s worried I’ll uncover him in the process?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s not. He didn’t do this,” he said, motioning toward the horrific photos of murdered women. “He couldn’t have.”

“Why are you so certain your brother didn’t do this? It has to be more than family loyalty. You have to at least entertain the possibility. I can spout off countless instances where offenders were arrested for horrific crimes and their family members insisted they couldn’t be responsible.” She turned and rubbed her neck. “What is it about those we love that makes us doubt their culpability?”

He heard the weariness in her voice and wondered if she was thinking about Danny and the traffic accident. Had she known about his drug usage, or had she been as oblivious as she seemed to believe he was?

But her question had merit, and if he wanted her help, he needed to explain what must seem like crazy loyalty to his brother. “I’ve seen evil, Lucy. I’ve faced it down eye to eye.” He shuddered at the memory of the men who’d attacked the embassy and their disregard for anyone’s life. “There’s a coldness in their eyes. I don’t see that in my brother. I’m not saying he’s perfect. He’s messed up royally, I’ll admit that, but he’s no killer. He doesn’t have it in him.”

She looked like she was about to challenge him again, then she just sat down.

He took the seat beside her. “What are you thinking?”

“That someone wants me to leave town, but it’s not the same person who abducted me yesterday or who killed all those women.”

He had to agree with her assessment. Whoever heard of a cold-blooded killer breaking into a house only to send a threatening message? A killer was going to kill until someone stopped him.

But someone was determined to frighten her into leaving town.

If it wasn’t the killer then who was it? And why?

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