“I want to get you closure. I really want to find Lexi and her killer.”

“I told you—”

He pressed his fingers over her lips. Then his eyes—those eerie pale brown eyes—darkened as his pupils dilated. His fingers slid across her mouth … caressingly.

He jerked his hand away from her mouth. “I know who you think killed your sister. I know.”

And she waited for him to refute her belief as he always had. But he stayed silent again.

“You’re not telling me I’m wrong this time,” she said.

He emitted a weary-sounding sigh. “I’m not as cocky as I was six years ago.”

He was different. No less serious or determined or driven, but perhaps a little less confident. Lexi’s case had shaken his confidence.

And maybe it had him second-guessing himself.

Because now he uttered the question she’d been waiting for him to ask since she’d overheard his confrontation with the reporters.

“Is he my son, Becca?” he asked. “Is Alex mine?”

The Agent’s

Redemption

Lisa Childs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LISA CHILDS writes paranormal and contemporary romance for Mills & Boon. She lives on thirty acres in Michigan with her two daughters, a talkative Siamese and a long-haired Chihuahua who thinks she’s a rottweiler. Lisa loves hearing from readers, who can contact her through her website, www.lisachilds.com, or snail-mail address, PO Box 139, Marne, MI 49435, USA.

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With great appreciation for my sisters, Jackie Lewakowski, Phyllis Elsbrie & Helen Glover

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Bulbs flashed, and Jared Bell flinched with each bright light as he ran the gauntlet of reporters with their microphones and cameras. “Special Agent Bell!” they called out to him as he walked past where they had lined up along the residential street. “Special Agent Bell!”

He ignored them or at least he tried to ignore them as he ducked under the crime scene tape across the end of a driveway.

“Have you found her body yet?” a reporter hurled the question at him. Even though Jared wasn’t looking at the guy, he recognized the artificially deep voice of Kyle Smith, and he wasn’t surprised Smith had showed up. This narcissist didn’t just report the news; he tried to make himself part of the story—at least of this story, this case. He was as relentless as he was insensitive.

Jared flinched at the question, hating how it would hurt whatever member of the missing girl’s family might have heard the question or would hear it on a later news broadcast.

They were anxiously awaiting news—any news—of their missing loved one. They didn’t need to hear it like this—on the news. They needed to hear it from him directly—as soon as he learned something.

“Have you ever found Lexi Drummond’s body?” another reporter yelled out the question. “It’s been five years.”

Six. Lexi had been the serial killer’s first victim. And no, her body had never been found. Her family still waited for closure. But he had nothing to offer them. No body. No suspect. No clues...

If his head hadn’t already been pounding from the concussion he’d sustained a few days ago, it would have started hurting then. Pain throbbed inside his skull where he could feel his heart beating—fast and frantically. As an FBI profiler, he had caught a lot of killers over the years—but not this one. Lexi Drummond’s killer had eluded him and killed again and again and again.

Now the killer had taken another girl. Another victim...

Jared would find her, though. She would not become another Lexi Drummond. Not in any way. He had gotten way too involved in Lexi’s case and way too involved with Lexi’s family. He’d failed them and himself.

For the first time in his career, his professionalism had slipped. But that had happened only that one time; he wouldn’t let it happen again.

Jared ignored the reporters and flashed his shield to the officer posted outside the duplex. Then he slipped through the open front door. The girl hadn’t been abducted from her home, but the police were searching it for any clues to who might have taken her.

Jared had to study all the aspects of the case in order to construct a profile of the killer. He studied the crime scenes, the evidence—if any—left behind, the manner in which the victim was killed, and he profiled the victim, too. He didn’t believe this killer randomly chose his victims. So getting to know them better would help lead Jared back to their killer.

But hopefully Amy Wilcox was only missing. Hopefully she wasn’t dead yet—like all the other victims. Even though Lexi Drummond’s body hadn’t been found, too much of her blood had been discovered at the crime scene for her to have survived whatever wounds she had suffered. Six years had passed, but he could still see all that blood. So much blood...

He blinked away the memory of that horrific crime scene and focused on his current surroundings. Amy Wilcox’s duplex was painted in fun colors—bright greens and yellows, like a highlighter that outlined the many picture frames hanging on the walls.

To get to know her better, Jared studied those pictures. There were photos of her water-skiing and rock climbing and running races. As athletic as she was, she wouldn’t have been easy to abduct—which explained the signs of a struggle at the primary crime scene: the ransacked and blood-spattered dressing room from which she’d been abducted.

She had almost gotten away from her assailant there. Maybe she would get away from him again. Jared moved on to the next picture and froze, his whole body tensing.

She wasn’t alone in this picture. She had her arm around another girl who was laughing into the camera with her. Unlike Amy who had dark hair and eyes, this woman was blond with sparkling blue eyes and a dimple in her right cheek when she smiled.

Lexi Drummond...

* * *

HER HAND SHAKING, Rebecca Drummond pushed hard on the off button of the remote. The TV screen flickered before going black but not before she saw his face again. Special Agent Jared Bell. With his reddish-brown hair and light brown eyes, he was still handsome—maybe even more handsome than he’d been six years ago because his features were more defined, more rugged. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and faint bruises darkened one side of his face.

The reporter’s words rang in her ears: “FBI profiler Jared Bell checked himself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders in order to take over the investigation into the disappearance of Amy Wilcox, which confirms speculation that she is the latest victim of the Bride Butcher serial killer.”

Horror gripped Rebecca, paralyzing her. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t move from the couch where she was sitting. She could only think of... Jared.

He had been in the hospital.

Why?

How badly had he been hurt that he had checked himself out against doctor’s orders?

He was obviously still obsessed with the case. Obsessed with finding a killer that he already would have found had he listened to Rebecca.

But he had refused to listen to Rebecca about anything. Seeing him again should have brought back anger or pain or resentment. Instead, other feelings—so many other feelings—rushed over her, overwhelming her.

She grabbed a pillow from the couch and wrapped her arms around it, but she wanted to wrap them around herself—to hold herself together. The doorbell dinged, startling her into jumping and letting out a short cry of surprise.

The door shook as a fist pounded on it now. And a deep and familiar voice called out, “Are you all right?”

He’d heard her. She couldn’t hide now, like she wanted to hide. She’d promised him that he would never see her again. She hadn’t fixated on him because he was investigating her sister’s disappearance. Her face heated as even now, all these years later, the embarrassment rushed back.

She had been a fool to think herself in love with Jared Bell. And she would be an even bigger fool to open the door and let him back into her life.

The door rattled harder. “I’m coming in!”

He would break it down; she had no doubt that he would, just like he’d broken down the walls of her grief and pain and opened her heart to him.

She had rebuilt those walls since she’d seen him last. She wouldn’t let him back into her heart. But she had no choice about letting him into her life. She opened the door just as he was putting his shoulder to the wood, and he stumbled inside the living room.

He spared her a quick glance before visually searching the room for any threats. Even battered from whatever had sent him to the hospital, he was still in full protective FBI mode. He turned back to her and asked, “Are you all right?”

No. She hadn’t been all right with seeing him on her television—even though she had seen him on the news occasionally over the past six years. She certainly wasn’t all right with him being in her house.

What if...

She shuddered to think of it—of them meeting. But that wouldn’t happen. She would get rid of Jared quickly. She would make certain he was long gone before Alex came home.

She nodded and assured him, “I’m fine. The doorbell startled me because I wasn’t expecting anyone.” Not for an hour yet. “Especially not you.”

His handsome face moved with a slight wince at her jab. But she knew that she hadn’t really hurt him. He would have had to care for her to be able to hurt him.

“Why are you here, Jared?” she asked, and then reminded him, “You were the one who thought it best we didn’t see each other anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t handle anything very well concerning your sister’s case.”

“My sister’s case...” That was all Rebecca had been to him—just part of a case. She was the one who had foolishly thought they were more.

“Why are you here?” she asked again. “You didn’t come here to apologize.”

“I should have,” he said, as if just realizing it himself.

The man was a genius. A real one. He had graduated high school at thirteen, college with a doctorate in criminal psychology at nineteen and then had been recruited into the FBI. He had worked many cases—solving them all—before he’d come up against her sister’s killer. And lost...

Jared was a genius when it came to other people but he was completely oblivious when it came to himself.

She shrugged. “That was a long time ago.” She wanted him to think she had moved on, but it felt like yesterday that she had lost him—so soon after tragically losing Lexi.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and the sincerity was there in the gruffness of his deep voice.

She didn’t doubt that he was sorry, but she didn’t care. She just wanted him gone.

“Why are you here?” she asked, impatience fraying her voice into sharpness. This was the tone that always—finally—got Alex’s attention.

“Have you seen the news?” he asked. “Do you know about...?”

She grimly nodded as concern tightly gripped her heart. “There’s another girl missing. She was abducted from the last fitting for her bridal gown.”

It could only be one killer. Her sister’s.

“I need your help,” he said.

But he hadn’t come to her when those other women had been abducted. He hadn’t needed her help then. Why was he asking for it now—when he hadn’t listened to her six years ago?

“I already told you who killed Lexi.”

He sighed—that long-suffering sigh that irritated her. Then he pulled a photo from a file he had clasped under his arm and held it out to her. “I need you to look at this.”

She grimaced and backed away from him. The last thing she wanted to see was another crime scene. She already had one that she could not get out of her mind. “No.”

“Please, Becca—”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped at him. To Lexi, she’d been Becca. And to him...when she’d thought he actually cared about her.

But all Jared Bell cared about was his career—and how this one unsolved case could damage it.

“What should I call you?” he asked. “Ms. Drummond, or Mrs....?”

“Rebecca,” she said, refusing to reveal her marital status. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway since it had nothing to do with the case.

“Rebecca,” he repeated. “Please look at the picture.”

She closed her eyes, and that old crime scene flashed through her mind: the wedding dress soaked with blood spilling out of the trunk of Lexi’s car.

Her body hadn’t been in the trunk. But it didn’t matter. The coroner had confirmed she couldn’t have lost that much blood and lived.

Lexi was forever gone.

“I need your help,” he said again. “Please...”

She forced herself to open her eyes—to look. It wasn’t a crime scene. But it might have been worse to see Lexi like she was in that old photo—alive with happiness—because it reminded Rebecca of how much she’d lost.

Just like seeing Jared again reminded her of how much she’d lost...

Panic pressed on her lungs, stealing her breath. “You need to leave,” she said.

“Rebecca—”

She planted her palm against his chest. Even through his suit and shirt, she could feel the warmth of his skin and the hardness of his muscles. But she pushed him toward the door. “I can’t help you—because you won’t listen to me.”

“Rebecca, I want to talk to you about Lexi—about how she knew this girl.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t look at the picture again—of her and the missing girl. “Ask Amy Wilcox’s family.”

His amber-colored eyes darkened with emotion. “I asked them.” And from his grim expression, it hadn’t gone well. “They had no idea that Amy had known Lexi.”

She shook her head. “I had no idea, either.”

“We need to compare their pasts,” he said, “and find out where their paths might have crossed.” Mercifully, he turned the photo over to the white back. But then he pointed to the date on it. “This was taken the month Lexi disappeared. That’s too great a coincidence. We need to figure out their connection.”

She shook her head again.

“Bec—Rebecca, I need your help,” he implored her.

Heat arced between them as he stared at her. She avoided his intense gaze, averting hers. Then she noticed the clock on the wall behind his head, and her panic returned with even more intensity. She had no time to answer his questions. “You need to leave now!”

Before Alex came home—because if Jared saw him he would have more questions.

More questions she couldn’t answer...

Chapter Two

Jared’s heart pounded hard and fast beneath the warmth of her hand on his chest. He’d worried that she might slam the door in his face. After the mess he had made of everything, he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. But she’d let him in. Although after hearing her soft cry, he hadn’t given her much choice. He would have kicked in the door to get to her—to make sure she was all right.

She was beautiful—even more so than she had been six years ago. Her blond hair was longer and lighter and her skin tanned as if she spent more time in the sun now. Of course six years ago she had been so focused on school—her first year of med school—that she’d no time for the sun or relaxation or her friends and family.

Until her sister had disappeared.

“You have to leave,” she said as she shoved on his chest again.

Already light-headed from the concussion, he stumbled back a step. To steady himself, he reached out and clasped her shoulders. Her blue eyes widened as she stared up at him. The urge to pull her closer overwhelmed him. It had been so long since he had held her that he ached to hold her again.

But that wasn’t why he had risked getting the door slammed in his face—or getting shoved out of her house. “There’s a girl missing,” he reminded her. “Her family is going crazy with fear.”

They had gone even crazier when he’d asked them about Lexi Drummond. Amy’s mother had gotten hysterical, hyperventilating so badly that they’d had to call for an ambulance. Her dad had been trying hard to hold his wife together even as he began to fall apart himself, shaking uncontrollably. Amy’s fiancé was the only one who’d managed to voice their fears aloud. “He has her then—that sick bastard who kills brides. She’s probably already dead!” And then the man, a big burly former college linebacker, had dropped to his knees and dissolved into broken sobs.

Jared released a ragged breath and repeated, “They’re going crazy with fear.” More so because of him, because he had taken away some of the hope they’d desperately been clinging to.

“Just like I went crazy,” she murmured.

She hadn’t gone crazy, but she’d certainly been upset and vulnerable. And he would never forgive himself for taking advantage of that vulnerability—of her.

“You know what they’re going through,” he said.

“I can empathize,” she said.

“You can help.”

She shook her head. “I tried to help six years ago. I told you who killed Lexi, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“It’s not him, Bec—Rebecca,” he said. He wished it had been. But the guy had had an ironclad alibi.

She sighed. “You wasted your time coming here,” she said, “if you’re still not going to listen to me.”

“All I want is for you to look at the picture and tell me how Lexi knew Amy Wilcox.” That was a lie. He wanted more—much more from Becca than that. But he had no right to expect or ask for anything from her—not even information.

She had barely looked at the picture. So he held it out to her again. But she had barely looked at him, either. Instead, she kept glancing over his head.

He was surprised to find her here—in Wisconsin and so close to where her sister’s car had been found. He’d thought for sure she would have wound up in another state—maybe even in another country—for her medical residency. Instead, she lived just down the road from the wooded area that law enforcement and search teams had torn apart looking for Lexi.

To no avail...

He glanced behind him, where she kept looking, and noticed the clock on the wall. Large metal hands moved across the surface of a barn picture, like a weather vane moving in the wind. Her house was cute—a sunshine-filled ranch with bright colors—like something that would’ve been featured in a country living magazine. He hadn’t pictured Becca winding up living in the country.

She’d wanted to do her residency in a big city. A bigger life than the small town where she’d grown up—just like Lexi had wanted.

She tore her gaze from the clock to focus on the photo. But not him.

Couldn’t she even stand to look at him? Had he hurt her that badly? Guilt clutched his heart, like her palm still clutched his chest. Instead of pushing him away, her hand held on to his coat and shirt—as if she needed some sort of support to look at the photo again.

“I’ve seen her face on the news,” she said. “But that’s the only place I remember seeing Amy Wilcox before.”

“We can look into their pasts—see how they’re connected. You can help me,” he urged her.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how she knew Lexi. But then again I was gone so much—for college and med school—that I didn’t know all of her friends. And Lexi was always making friends.” She smiled wistfully—sadly. “Everybody wanted to be her friend.”

Six years had passed, but it didn’t appear that Becca’s pain had lessened any. Her loss seemed as fresh and painful as it had when Lexi had first disappeared. She had loved her sister so much.

Regret clenched Jared’s heart—regret that he had hurt her. And regret that his being here was hurting her again. He shouldn’t have come. She wasn’t the only one he could have asked about Lexi.

“Do your parents still have your sister’s things?” he asked. He could talk to them instead. Maybe they would have something of Lexi’s—her journals or photos—that would explain her connection to Amy Wilcox and maybe lead him to a suspect that they had both known.

Or at least the suspect had known both of them. Maybe they’d been unaware of him. Jared had apprehended many suspects whose victims had never officially met them. They hadn’t even been aware that they were being followed.

“No,” Becca replied shortly, dashing his hopes.

He cursed. But he wasn’t surprised.

While some people kept shrines to their lost loved ones, leaving their things exactly as that person had left them, others removed every trace of them—as if that could make them forget their loss and pain. Her parents had been so broken and devastated that they hadn’t been able to talk to him or any of the other authorities. That was how he’d gotten so close to Becca—she had spoken for all of them, for her parents and for her missing sister.

“They couldn’t handle any reminders of her,” she said with a trace of resentment.

Had Becca been a reminder of her sister, too? Had they removed her from their lives, too? It might explain why she had settled in Wisconsin instead of the farm town where she’d grown up in Ohio—where her parents probably still lived unless that reminded them too much of Lexi, too.

“So I have her things,” Becca said matter-of-factly. She wouldn’t have wanted to forget her sister—no matter how much pain that loss caused her. She was incredibly strong; she had been strong six years ago—except for when she’d turned to him for comfort and support.

And oblivion. She’d told him she’d needed to think about something other than Lexi. Or actually that she’d needed to not think at all for a while. That was why she’d made love with him. He hadn’t had any excuse—except that he had been weak—too weak to fight his overwhelming attraction to her.

The attraction he still felt for her. But he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about how she’d felt in his arms, how sweet her lips had tasted. He had to focus instead on the case.

So he breathed a sigh of relief that all leads weren’t lost. “That’s great. We need to look through her stuff and find out how she knew Amy.”

She stopped clutching his shirt and shoved at him again. Her voice cracking with panic, she said, “Not now. I don’t have time. You have to leave. Now!”

Behind him, the door rattled and then flew open and a little blond-haired boy ran into the house. He stopped short when he saw Jared and stared up at him—his blue eyes wide with surprise. He asked, “Who are you?”

* * *

YOUR FATHER. THE WORDS stuck in Rebecca’s throat along with the scream of protest she had wanted to utter when the door had opened. Of course Tommy’s mother would drop Alex off early today. The horn of the minivan tooted as Beverly backed out of the driveway.

“My name is Jared Bell,” the FBI agent answered his son. “What’s yours?”

“Alex...” Suddenly shy, the little boy ducked behind her legs and peered around her at Jared.

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” Jared replied. Then he raised his gaze from the little boy and met hers.

She expected accusation or at least suspicion. But pain and regret flickered through his amber-colored eyes instead. “I understand,” he said.

And her stomach clenched. Could he understand why she hadn’t told him? She wasn’t entirely sure that she understood herself. Of course his rejection had hurt her, and he’d told her that it would be better if they had no further contact. But he hadn’t known that she was pregnant. She hadn’t yet known she was pregnant when they’d broken up. But to break up, they would have actually had to be together. And all she had been to him was a slip in his professionalism. A mistake.

And she hadn’t wanted her child to be a mistake to him, as well. So she’d chosen not to tell Jared. But occasionally guilt overwhelmed her—like whenever Alex had asked her about his father. And now, when father and son finally came face-to-face.

Jared continued, “I understand why you didn’t want to talk about this case—with your son coming home.”

Her sister had never been just a case to Rebecca. “Alex knows about his aunt Lexi,” she said.

“I got my name from her,” the little boy interjected as he peeked around her legs again.

Jared smiled at the boy. “It’s a very good name, too.”

And Rebecca’s heart lurched at the deep grooves in his cheeks and at the warmth in his eyes. He was so handsome. But that wasn’t the only reason for her reaction. She hadn’t thought the no-nonsense FBI profiler would pay any attention to a child. He had never expressed any interest in them before. But he was being so sweet...

So Jared.

That was why she had fallen for him before—because he had been so sympathetic for her loss and so concerned for her well-being. She had thought he was falling for her, too. But he’d only been doing his job.

That was all he was doing now. She hadn’t seen him in nearly six years. He had moved on to the next case—the next murder and the next killer. But he was back now—because there was another case.

Another missing woman...

Another family going through what she and her parents had gone through—what they were still going through. “I want to help you,” she said.

He arched a brow as if surprised. “I thought you wanted to get rid of me.”

She had—when she’d been worried that he would realize Alex was his son. But he didn’t appear to have made the connection. Alex was small for his age, though. Perhaps Jared hadn’t realized how old the little boy was.

She really didn’t want to leave them alone while she retrieved the container of Lexi’s pictures and journals. “Alex needs a bath before bedtime,” she said. “He just got back from a playdate. Do you mind waiting?”

His body tensed with urgency. He probably hated waiting. Amy Wilcox had already been missing for days.

But Rebecca doubted that there was anything in Lexi’s personal effects that could lead him to the young woman. If the same man who’d taken Lexi had taken Amy, then Rebecca already knew who he was.

But Jared refused to believe her. He believed an alibi instead. But the alibi could have been faked. Or a killer could have been hired.

“I’ll wait,” he said. And he was already pulling out his cell phone.

Of course he had calls to make. When she’d known him before, he had constantly been on his phone—following up leads, checking in with other agents. The man lived and breathed his job. When he had worked her sister’s case, she had mistakenly believed his intensity had been personal.

But it was just who he was...

Intense.

Driven.

Determined.

But despite all those characteristics, he had been unable to find Lexi’s body. Or Lexi’s killer.

She left Jared to his calls and tugged Alex toward the bathroom. Usually after a playdate with Tommy, he was exhausted. When she hosted a playdate with the hyperactive Tommy, she was always exhausted afterward, too.

But now Alex was too curious to be tired. “Who is Jared Bell?” he asked as he pulled off his clothes and stepped into the bathtub.

Your father. The words popped into her head again but stuck in her throat. She couldn’t tell either of them the truth. Not now.

But guilt settled heavily on her heart. She should tell the truth. She probably would have—had she not been devastated by Jared’s rejection. But he hadn’t just rejected her; he’d rejected what she’d felt for him.

He’d told her that she didn’t really have any feelings for him. She was only fixated on him because he was investigating her sister’s disappearance—that he had become a surrogate of Lexi to her.

For such a brilliant man, he’d been incredibly dense and insensitive.

“Mr. Bell is...” She had no idea what to tell her son. Jared had never really been a friend. And she couldn’t tell Alex that he was an FBI agent. Her little boy would never go to sleep because he would have a million questions for Jared.

Alex was such a bright and inquisitive boy. His teachers had already moved him up a grade because they couldn’t challenge him. With his blond hair and blue eyes, he looked like her, but he had his father’s brilliance.

She’d had to work hard for her grades. That was why she’d been so consumed with studying that she’d lost touch with her sister. Then she’d lost her entirely.

“He has a gun, Mommy,” the little boy said.

How had he noticed the weapon holstered beneath Jared’s jacket?

“Was that why you hid behind my legs?” she asked. “Are you scared of him?”

Alex shook his head and sent droplets of water flying across the sand-colored tile walls and floor and her T-shirt. “No. He has a badge, too.”

Jared had always worn his badge clipped to his belt, but his jacket covered it. Of course her observant little boy would have somehow noticed it. He missed nothing. But a father...

“Mr. Bell is an FBI agent,” she reluctantly admitted.

As she’d expected, Alex sprang out of the bath, dripping water everywhere. “Can I talk to him? Can I?”

Before he could head to the door, she caught him up in a towel and dried him off and stalled.

“Do you think he’ll let me touch his gun?” Alex asked. “Do you think he ever shot somebody with it?”

She was pretty certain that he had, but not the person she’d wanted him to shoot—the person she was certain had killed her sister.

“It’s your bedtime,” she reminded her son.

“Oh, Mom, I can go to bed anytime,” Alex protested. “He’s an FBI agent!”

“And he’s here to talk to me about Aunt Lexi,” she said. “But you’ll be able to talk to him another time.” After she gathered her courage and told them both the truth.

It was time. It was actually past time that Jared and Alex learned they were father and son.

“If I see him again,” Alex muttered.

“You will,” she promised. But would he? Even after she told Jared the truth, would he want anything to do with his son? Would he want to be a father?

Or was he still all about his career?

The little boy dragged his feet getting ready for bed. He took forever to get into his pajamas and brush his teeth. And when she finally settled him into his bed, he sprang right back up.

“Mommy, there’s a man looking in the window!”

A creative child, he always came up with inventive excuses for not going to bed. So she was only humoring him when she turned toward the window. But then she saw the man, too, staring into her son’s bedroom.

And she screamed.

Chapter Three

Her earlier soft cry had struck Jared like a blow. This one—loud and full of fear—pierced his soul. He ran down the hall she’d gone through and nearly collided with her as she rushed out of a room, the child clutched in her arms.

“Someone’s creeping around outside,” she said, “looking in the windows.”

He drew his weapon from beneath his jacket and headed toward the door. “Lock it behind me,” he directed her. “And don’t unlock it for anyone but me.”

He stepped outside and lights flashed and voices shouted. “Special Agent Bell! Special Agent Bell!”

He flinched at the lights and the noise and the fact that he hated reporters. He wanted to step back inside and slam the door shut on all of them. But he’d had Becca lock it behind him. If he knocked and had her open it, they would see her and take pictures and bombard her with intrusive, insensitive questions like they had when Lexi had disappeared.

Six years ago Becca had hated the reporters as much as he had. Actually more. He hadn’t begun to hate them until they’d turned on him—highlighting his one failure instead of all his success in apprehending serial killers.

“You’re all trespassing,” he informed them. “If you don’t get off this property, I will have the local authorities arrest you.”

While some of the reporters knew him well enough to know that his threat wasn’t empty and they began to walk away, another stepped forward—probably the one Becca had seen through her son’s bedroom window since the man stepped around the side of the house.

“Your being here confirms that this place belongs to Lexi Drummond’s sister,” the reporter brazenly said.

“My presence confirms nothing,” Jared replied. He holstered his gun, but then pulled out his cell phone. His threat wasn’t idle; he intended to have them all arrested—especially this man.

This reporter was tall and thin with a thick head of mostly artificial-looking blond hair and a big, snide grin. He wasn’t just doing his job; he enjoyed annoying the hell out of people, especially Jared.

The man—Kyle Smith—shrugged shoulders that Jared suspected were as fake as his hair—since they moved strangely beneath his suit jacket, like they were more padding than muscle and bone. “County tax records confirm this property belongs to Rebecca Drummond.”

Jared breathed a silent sigh of relief. He had been pretty sure that the press hadn’t followed him here. But with the concussion, he wasn’t quite himself yet. Maybe he hadn’t noticed someone—like Kyle Smith—tailing him.

But apparently they had just done the same research he’d done to find Rebecca Drummond. Or at least Kyle Smith had. Had he brought the others with him, like a pack of dogs, to attack?

Then Kyle attacked as he shoved the microphone in Jared’s face and had his cameraman zoom in on him. “So is Rebecca Drummond’s young son yours?”

It was probably a good thing that he’d holstered his gun, or he might have threatened the man with it. Instead, he punched in the number for the local authorities, identified himself and gave the address where he needed backup to disperse trespassers.

“No comment, Agent Bell?” Kyle said with a sneer.

He had no comment that he could make publicly without his supervisor reprimanding him. And there was no point to answering any of Kyle’s questions. The man twisted Jared’s replies to suit his own purposes.

Apparently, he wanted to expose all of Jared’s mistakes. Getting involved with a victim’s family member had definitely been a mistake. But that had been six years ago, and the boy had to be younger than that. Alex hadn’t looked much older than the toddler Jared had recently been helping protect. His head pounded, reminding him of the concussion that had rewarded his efforts. According to the doctor, he was lucky to be alive and have his memory intact.

Not that he could have forgotten Becca. He doubted he would ever be able to forget her. During the past six years, she had never left his mind. He’d seen her beautiful face in his dreams and in his waking moments. He’d thought of her often, wondering how she was doing—hoping she’d been able to move on after the loss of her sister.

“You’re not here to see your son?” Kyle prodded him with the question and that infuriatingly snide grin.

Jared fought the urge to glare at the man, too. Then, against his better judgment, he replied, “I’m investigating the disappearance of Amy Wilcox.”

“And how can Rebecca Drummond help you with that?” Smith asked. “She’s convinced her sister’s fiancé killed Lexi despite his rock-solid alibi.”

Jared wished she’d been right. But the alibi was indisputable and Becca’s judgment seriously biased where her almost-brother-in-law was concerned.

Sirens wailed in the distance as Jared’s backup approached. “Whoever is still on this property when the local authorities arrive will be arrested.”

“You’ve let a serial killer run free for six years, Special Agent Bell,” Kyle taunted him, “but you would arrest some reporters just doing their job?”

“You’re not just doing your job.” Jared had gotten that impression from the reporter before—that this was personal. Had Jared put away someone he’d known and cared about? Did the guy have some kind of vendetta against him? Why else would the reporter go after him like he did?

To suggest that Becca’s son was his...

It was preposterous. To think that he was a father, that he had been a father for six years and had never known...

His heart lurched in his chest as he considered the possibility that he had son.

No. It wasn’t a possibility.

* * *

HER NERVES FRAYED, Rebecca waited for Jared to ask. She’d heard the reporter’s speculation—the one who’d been looking through Alex’s bedroom window. That man had wondered if Alex was Jared’s son.

Why hadn’t Jared?

Fortunately Alex hadn’t heard any of the reporter’s questions or comments. She had tucked him back into his bed and drawn the blinds. And, despite the excitement, he had fallen asleep. She probably needed to thank Tommy for that. If his playdate friend hadn’t worn him out, there was no way Alex would have fallen asleep after catching a man looking in his window. Or with an FBI agent in the house.

Or maybe it was because of the FBI agent that he fell asleep—because he felt safe. Was that because Jared was FBI or because Alex instinctively felt a connection with him?

It didn’t matter that Alex hadn’t heard the reporter’s questions. He already had questions of his own. He’d already asked her who his father was.

He deserved an answer. He deserved a father. But Jared hadn’t even wanted to be a boyfriend all those years ago. She couldn’t imagine how he would have reacted if she’d told him she was pregnant. He probably would have thought she was trying to trap him because she was so fixated on him.

He was now focused on the contents of the plastic container in which Rebecca had preserved all of her sister’s pictures, journals and letters. He kept flipping through the photos, flinching when he came across the ones of a bruised and battered Lexi.

“He did that to her,” Rebecca said. But she hadn’t known that until she’d found the pictures in Lexi’s journal. Why hadn’t her sister told her that her fiancé was abusing her? Because Rebecca had been too busy? Had Lexi thought she wouldn’t care?

Lexi was only two years older than Rebecca, so they’d always been close growing up. When she’d graduated Lexi had stayed home and attended community college for a medical assistant program. Rebecca was the one who’d left home—for college and med school.

Guilt gripped Rebecca, squeezing her heart. Maybe if she had been more available to her sister, Lexi would have told her what was going on, and she could have helped her. She could have saved her...

Anger joined her guilt as she glanced at the photos, too. The man was a monster to have done that to sweet, beautiful Lexi.

“She took those photos as evidence against him,” Rebecca said, “in case something ever happened to her.” That was what Lexi had written on the journal pages between which those photos had been tucked. “She wanted you to know who her killer would be.”

Rebecca waited for Jared to bring up that damn ironclad alibi again. But the FBI profiler remained curiously silent and focused on those photographs.

Her pulse quickened. Was he beginning to believe her? To believe the evidence Lexi had left for him?

Of course Lexi hadn’t known who would be investigating her case. But she’d known that she would die and that there would be someone investigating her death.

Poor Lexi...

If only she’d told Rebecca what was going on.

But Rebecca had been too busy studying. She’d been too busy for much more than a short texted reply to her sister’s usual text, You still alive?

Yes, I’m still alive.

When she hadn’t heard from Lexi in a while, she had texted her the question: You still alive?

Lexi had never answered that text.

Rebecca closed her eyes as the pain overwhelmed her, and tears threatened. It didn’t feel like six years had passed since she’d lost her sister. It felt like yesterday.

“I’m sorry,” Jared said.

“Why?” He had already apologized for how he’d handled the situation with her—the line he regretted crossing into her bed.

Images flashed through her mind—of the two of them in bed, of naked skin sliding over naked skin. Of his lips on hers as he kissed her with all his intensity focused solely on her. He had made love to her so thoroughly, so passionately that it was as if she could still feel his hands on her body, his lips on her...

Desire rushed through her, heating her. She didn’t regret that he had crossed that line with her. She only regretted how it had ended. That he had ended it.

But she didn’t want any more apologies from him. Not when she owed him one. She was the one who’d been keeping a secret from him for too many years.

“I’m sorry I came here,” he explained, “and opened up all this pain for you again.”

She chuckled at how he didn’t understand her feelings any better than he had six years ago. “You think you just reopened it?”

He shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t me, but Amy Wilcox’s disappearance had to have brought everything up again—all those feelings.”

“She isn’t the only victim since Lexi.”

But Rebecca didn’t need to remind him of that. She could see his frustration in the slight lines around his eyes and mouth. She could feel the tension in his body. He blamed himself, as much as the serial killer, for the loss of those other victims.

“No, she’s not,” he acknowledged, and the guilt was in the gruffness of his deep voice.

“But you never came here when those other victims first went missing,” she said.

He held up the photo he’d brought with him—the photo of Amy Wilcox with Lexi. “I didn’t find any connection between them and your sister.”

“But their killer...”

“We don’t have enough evidence to make that conclusion,” he replied—uttering one of those patented FBI press release statements.

She nearly smiled. Maybe it was because he had been recruited so young into the Bureau that he was such a company man. Or maybe it was what she had concluded six years ago—all he cared about was his job.

“The media hasn’t had any problem leaping to conclusions,” she said. And not just about the murders but about her son’s paternity.

But they weren’t wrong about that. Had they been wrong about all the murders being the work of one killer?

“I didn’t lead those reporters here,” Jared assured her.

“I know.”

While his specialty was profiling killers, he had made certain that he had all the skills of a field agent. He was an expert shot and defensive driver. That was why she’d been so excited when he had been assigned her sister’s case—because she’d heard all the media praise about him.

But the media didn’t praise him anymore—because he’d never found Lexi’s killer. Or Lexi’s body.

“The pain wasn’t just reopened,” she said. “It never closed.”

He flinched again, like he had looking at the pictures of a brutalized Lexi. “I’m sorry you never got closure.”

Everyone talked about needing closure. Needing a body to bury. Or a killer to curse.

“I’m not sure closure would make it hurt any less,” she admitted. Lexi would still be dead.

He stepped closer to her, and his voice was low and gruff when he said, “I want to get you closure. I really want to find Lexi and her killer.”

“I told you—”

He pressed his fingers over her lips. Then his eyes—those eerie, pale brown eyes—darkened as his pupils dilated. His fingers slid across her mouth...caressingly.

Her breath caught in her lungs, and her pulse quickened with awareness and desire. How could she want him again? She wasn’t hurting over Lexi’s loss alone. She was hurting over losing Jared, too.

He jerked his hand away from her mouth. “I know who you think killed your sister. I know.”

And she waited for him to refute her belief like he always had. But he stayed silent again.

“You’re not telling me I’m wrong this time,” she said.

He emitted a weary-sounding sigh. “I’m not as cocky as I was six years ago.”

He was different. No less serious or determined or driven but perhaps a little less confident. Lexi’s case had shaken his confidence.

And maybe it had him second-guessing himself.

Because now he uttered the question she’d been waiting for him to ask since she’d overheard his confrontation with the reporters.

“Is he my son, Becca?” he asked. “Is Alex mine?”

Chapter Four

Jared’s heart pounded fast and furiously as he waited for her answer. Or maybe because he’d touched her. He shouldn’t have touched her. Because now he wanted to touch her again.

But if her son was his and she had never told him...

Could he ever forgive her? She had stolen almost six years of her son’s life from him—years he couldn’t get back. But her son couldn’t be almost six years old. He was too small.

Like Jared had been for his age...

No. He shook his head in silent denial of his own thoughts and suspicions.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have no business asking you that. I must’ve let Kyle Smith get inside my head.” And of course the reporter had just been trying to get a reaction out of him—some scandalous footage to run over and over on his broadcast.

She blinked as her blue eyes widened with confusion. “Kyle Smith?”

“The reporter.” Jared chuckled. “That egomaniac would hate that you don’t know his name.”

She glanced toward the black screen of her TV. “I try not to pay much attention to the news.”

But since she’d known about Amy Wilcox’s disappearance, he doubted that she was any more successful at ignoring the media than he was.

“I’ve been working on that myself.” In his job, he had to know how to handle the media or he could tip off a suspect or undermine his own investigation. He lifted a hand toward his throbbing head. “Maybe I only let him get to me because of the concussion.”

He wished he could blame the head injury. But he suspected that maybe it was wishful thinking instead...that Becca’s son was his. He wanted a connection to her—something more than Lexi’s unsolved murder to bind them together.

“How did you get the concussion?” she asked, her voice soft with concern.

After the way he’d treated her, how could she care about him at all? But that was just her nature, the reason she’d wanted to become a doctor, because she cared about people. All people. It was nothing personal. She’d had six years to realize that, although he hadn’t been sensitive about her feelings, he’d been right. She hadn’t really been in love with him.

“How did you get hurt?” she asked again, and now the concern was in her beautiful eyes as she studied his face, maybe trying to medically determine if he’d checked himself out too soon.

He shrugged off her concern and his own stupidity. “I didn’t stick to just profiling.”

“Do you ever?” she asked, and a twinkle flashed briefly in her blue eyes as if she was teasing him. Maybe she’d forgiven him for how he’d treated her.

“As a profiler, I do have to spend a lot of time out in the field,” he said, “analyzing the crime scenes, the evidence, interviewing suspects, hopefully following leads to more suspects...”

“I know what you do,” she reminded him.

Six years ago he’d kept her apprised of his investigation—probably too apprised. He’d told her when he’d interviewed her sister’s fiancé. But she hadn’t agreed with his findings. Even if the guy hadn’t had an alibi, Jared truly hadn’t felt like the man had killed his fiancée. Harris Mowery’s shock and anger over Lexi’s disappearance had seemed very genuine. But maybe Jared had been so cocky and overconfident back then that he hadn’t read Harris as well as he’d thought he had.

“So what were you doing this time?” she asked. “That wasn’t just profiling?”

“Protection duty.”

She laughed. “You were playing bodyguard?”

He should have been offended. After all he wasn’t the too-small-for-his-age child that he had once been. He was tall and muscular now, but he was no bodyguard. He’d learned all the skills of being a field agent, but protecting someone wasn’t something he had done often enough to get good at it. Usually he came on the scene when it was too late for protection—when the victim had already gone missing or been found dead.

He rubbed his head where he’d taken the blow from the butt of a gun. He was lucky he hadn’t been shot instead, but the killer hadn’t wanted to forewarn his victim and have her get away again.

“I’m not a very good bodyguard,” he admitted.

Her eyes widened with alarm. “Did whoever you were protecting get hurt?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “No, but that was thanks to better agents.”

She tilted her head, and a lock of blond hair fell across her cheek. He wanted to brush it back; he wanted to touch her again. He was close enough. He only had to lift his hand again, like he had touched her lips. His skin tingled yet from that too-brief contact.

Then she mused aloud, “You are different than you used to be.”

A self-deprecating grin tugged at his mouth. “Less cocky than I used to be?”

She smiled, too. “Yes.”

He didn’t have to tell her why; she knew—because he’d failed to find Lexi’s killer. He had failed all the subsequent victims of Lexi’s killer, too. And most of all, he’d failed Becca.

He hadn’t given her the closure she needed. She didn’t seem to think it would help, but he’d seen it help others—when he’d found their loved ones’ killers. He’d had a lot of success in his profiling career with the Bureau. He’d actually had mostly success and just this one failure when it mattered most.

Because Becca mattered most.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. He couldn’t apologize enough to her—for so many reasons.

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” she murmured as she stepped back from him and lowered her gaze, as if she couldn’t look at him.

He stepped closer, not wanting any distance between them. And he touched her, just his fingers on her chin, tipping her face up so that she met his gaze again. So that she would see his sincerity when he told her, “But I am...sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you. And I’m sorry for not catching your sister’s killer yet. And I’m sorry for letting Kyle Smith get to me so that I accused you of keeping my son from me.”

She pulled away from his touch and lowered her gaze again. Maybe she wasn’t willing to forgive his unfounded suspicion.

He groaned. “Right now I’m the most sorry about asking you if Alex is mine. I know you better than that. You would never do something—”

She lifted her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips, stilling them. “Jared...”

It was still there. The attraction. It had overwhelmed him six years ago, so that he’d acted on that attraction instead of his better judgment. If anything the attraction was even stronger now.

He lifted his hands to cup her shoulders, to pull her into his arms. But then his damn phone rang. He silently cursed the timing. But he couldn’t not take the call. A young woman was missing.

He stepped back from Becca, so that her hand fell from his face. And he pulled out his cell phone. He recognized the number as belonging to another agent—an agent who had recently become a good friend. So it could have been a personal call. He could have ignored it and reached for Becca again.

But dread clenched his stomach into knots. And he knew...

Even before he clicked the talk button, he knew what special agent Dalton Reyes would tell him. A body had been found. He was no longer working a disappearance; he was working a murder.

* * *

“AGENT BELL HERE,” he answered his cell.

But he wasn’t there. Even though he stood only a couple of steps from Rebecca, he was already gone—already off to handle whatever had come up with this call.

Fear gripped Rebecca. She glanced down at the photo of Lexi and Amy Wilcox, smiling, with their arms around each other. She wished she’d known how they knew each other—what had connected them in the past. Because she had a horrible feeling they had another connection—that they were both dead—murdered by the same man.

But why would Harris have murdered Amy? Rebecca needed to go through her sister’s things again and try to figure out how Lexi had known Amy and if Harris would have known her, too.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jared told whoever was on the phone. Then he clicked off the cell and slid it back into his pocket.

“Did they find her body?” she asked. Tears stung her eyes with sympathy for what the young woman’s family would go through—for the loss and pain.

He lifted his shoulders, but it wasn’t a shrug. “There’s been no confirmation yet. I have to leave, though.”

He was the one who would make the confirmation—the one who knew the case better than everyone else no matter how short a time he had been working it. He would have immersed himself in it. He had even risked seeing her again, although he’d had no idea how she might react, in order to investigate the connection between Amy Wilcox and Lexi.

Despite saying he had to leave, he stood in front of her yet—as if there was something he wanted to say or do before he left her. He lifted his hand to her face and skimmed his fingers across her cheek, brushing back a stray lock of hair.

Her breath caught in her throat, choking her—choking back the words she needed to say. The truth.

He leaned down a little—as if he intended to cover her mouth with his. To kiss her...

She wanted his kiss. Her pulse quickened in anticipation of his lips sliding over hers. And she closed her eyes.

But his mouth never touched hers. She opened her eyes to find that he’d moved. His head was no longer bowed toward hers. And he’d taken a step back.

He took another step. “I—I need to leave.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

Unfortunately, he probably had a body to identify. And then he would be caught up in the investigation. He might come back—to follow up on the connection with Lexi. Or he might be too busy to come back, so he would send another agent instead.

He took another step back, nearing the door. Then he turned and reached for the knob.

Maybe it was because his back was turned. Maybe it was because she wasn’t sure if she would ever see him again, but she blurted out, “Alex is your son.”

His hand tightened into a fist around the doorknob. She thought he was going to open the door and just walk out. But then he turned around and strode back to her, and his gaze pierced her heart with its intensity.

Her chest ached as her heart hammered with fear and guilt. She expected an outburst. Angry words. Accusations. At least questions.

He had to have so many questions.

Answers jumbled together in her mind.

You said we shouldn’t see each other again.

I didn’t know if you would think I got pregnant to trap you.

I didn’t know if you even wanted to be a father.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. Maybe his questions were as jumbled in his mind as her answers were in hers. Then he shook his head. In denial of her claim? Didn’t he believe Alex was his son?

Maybe he thought she was trying to trap him even now. She had obviously wanted his kiss moments ago—moments before he’d walked away.

But a muscle twitched in his cheek. And those usually pale brown eyes had darkened with emotion. Then he turned away from her and walked back to the door. He didn’t hesitate this time. He turned the knob and stepped out.

She tensed, bracing herself for the door to slam behind him. It closed with a soft click, but that click echoed throughout the living room with a finality that left her shaking.

Would he come back to ask any questions? Or did he not care that he had a son? Didn’t he want to see Alex? To form a relationship—a bond—with his boy?

Nervous that her legs might give out, she dropped onto the sofa. What the hell had she just done?

He was on his way to identify a body—the body of a woman whose family was probably still holding out hope for her safe return. And then once Jared confirmed the identity, he would have to notify that family of their loss.

She couldn’t have picked a worse moment to tell him the truth. He was in the middle of an investigation. And she knew how investigations consumed him.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Not only had she not been fair to Jared but she hadn’t been fair to Alex, either.

She should have told them both years ago. She shouldn’t have denied them the relationship they deserved to have. Why had she been so selfish?

Regret and guilt had tears stinging her eyes. But giving in to the tears would be selfish, too, and would accomplish nothing.

She would make it up to Alex. Somehow.

But she wasn’t sure that Jared would ever give her the chance. She wasn’t sure that he would ever forgive her.

The phone rang, shattering the silence of her living room. She grabbed up the cordless from the table next to the couch, so that the ringing wouldn’t awaken Alex. She wouldn’t even be able to look at her son now—not without guilt overwhelming her.

The number was blocked on the caller ID, so she hoped it wasn’t a reporter. Maybe she should have just hit the off button. But she found herself saying, “Hello?”

And hoping it was Jared. Maybe he’d found his words. His questions. She would even welcome his accusations now.

She just wanted him to give her a chance to explain.

But there was only silence.

Maybe he hadn’t found his words yet.

“Hello?” she said again.

A reporter would have talked, would have fired a million questions at her. It had to be him. He was probably just too mad to speak to her.

“Jared?”

“No, Becca,” a male voice finally spoke. It was low and raspy, and she wasn’t certain that she’d ever heard it before. But how did he know the nickname that only Lexi and Jared had ever called her?

“Who is this?” she asked.

The silence fell again, but there was no dial tone. He hadn’t hung up. He was still there.

“Who is this?” she asked again, and goose bumps raised her skin as unease sent a chill running through her. She shouldn’t entertain some crank caller. She began to lift the phone away from her ear to hang up.

Then he spoke again in that raspy, nearly unintelligible whisper. “You need to be careful...”

“Careful?” She didn’t live a life of adventure. She lived a quiet life—focused on her son and her job.

“You need to be careful,” the person spoke again—this time with more urgency.

“Why?” she asked.

“You’re being watched.”

She peered out the window. The sun was beginning to set, setting the window aglow with a yellow glare. She couldn’t see anything but the yellow shimmer in the trees and across the grass. If someone was out there, she couldn’t see them. Were the reporters staked out there somewhere? Waiting to ambush her when she left for work in the morning?

“I know,” she murmured. Those damn reporters.

They’d been relentless during the investigation into Lexi’s case. They had followed her everywhere. And even after the case had gone cold, they’d checked in with her from time to time—wanting to interview her. Wanting to dredge up the tragedy and her pain...

“You don’t know,” the person said. “You don’t know...”

She shivered at the ominous tone. “What don’t I know?”

“That you’re in danger.”

The line clicked with the same finality with which the door had closed behind Jared. Then the dial tone peeled out.

Her hand trembling, she turned off the cordless and put it back down on the table beside the couch.

Why would she be in danger?

The serial killer only went after brides-to-be. She was not engaged. She wasn’t even seeing anyone.

She was safe. Wasn’t she?

Chapter Five

The silver car. The blood-soaked lace spilling out of the open trunk. Jared flashed back six years ago to finding Lexi’s car. Unfortunately, Becca had been with him when they’d come across the abandoned silver Chevrolet.

There had been no body but so much blood...

Now there was a body...

No matter how many victims he had seen over the years, horror and dread still clutched at his heart. How could a human do this to another human? How could they act so viciously and subject another person to so much pain and cruelty?

He shuddered. And he wasn’t the only one.

Special Agent Dalton Reyes’s usually tanned complexion had gone ashen, and he shook slightly as he stepped back from the trunk. “That could have been Elizabeth...”

Dalton had recently found a woman in the trunk of a stolen car he’d run off the road. Fortunately, that woman hadn’t been dead—just so injured that she had lost her memory.

“It wasn’t,” Jared said. “She’s alive.” And she had recovered her memory, as well.

Dalton expelled a ragged breath of relief. “She’s alive, and she’s amazing. I can’t believe she agreed to marry me.”

Jared glanced back over his shoulder and groaned. He’d taken a Bureau helicopter from the closest police post to Becca’s house; that was how he’d made such good time—arriving while the sun was still up. How the hell had the media already gotten wind of their finding a crime scene?

News station vans rolled into the middle of the Indiana wheat field, kicking up dust that shimmered in the setting sun. Jared gestured at the local police officers. “Keep them back. I don’t want any pictures of this scene leaking out.”

Before he’d had time to notify the family. He turned back to the trunk. The victim’s face was swollen and bruised but identifiable. It was Amy Wilcox. She stared up at him through open, glazed brown eyes; he only imagined the accusation in her gaze. The blame for not catching this killer before he’d killed again—before he’d killed her.

I’m sorry, Amy...

He’d kept apologizing to Becca, too. But now he knew why she’d been so reluctant to accept his apologies— because she owed him a bigger one.

Alex was his son.

His head began to pound, and he flinched. But he pushed the thoughts back. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now. He’d deal later with the shock and anger that was rolling through him like those vans through the wheat field.

Now he had to get to Amy Wilcox’s family—before the media did. But he wouldn’t do that until he’d made certain that the coroner removed her body from the scene without the media getting any photos of her.

Where the hell was the coroner?

Was he or she lost? The media had no trouble finding the field.

“Did you hear me?” Dalton asked.

If the other agent had been talking, Jared hadn’t heard him. Despite his best intentions, he was distracted—too damn distracted.

Becca had always distracted him but never more so than now—when he’d learned they had made a child together. He had a son...

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. He’d been doing a lot of apologizing tonight. “What did you say?”

“Elizabeth agreed to marry me!” He slapped Jared’s back. “I’m getting married—thanks to you!”

“Me?” He was shocked—not shocked like he’d been when Becca had told him he was Alex’s dad. But he was surprised that Dalton would give him any gratitude for getting hit over the head.

Dalton grinned. His color was back now. And if a guy could glow, Dalton was glowing. “Elizabeth and I feel like you’re part of the reason we’re getting married. If you’d been the jerk I thought you were going to be and took the case from me, I wouldn’t have fallen for Elizabeth. That’s why I want you to be my best man.”

“So you want me to be your best man because I’m not a jerk?” Jared shook his head. “I’m not so sure you’re right about that. If I’d really thought that the Butcher was after Elizabeth, I would have taken the case.” But he’d never really believed that the serial killer had grabbed Elizabeth—because she’d lived.

“You would have been right to take the case, then,” Dalton agreed with a quick, regretful glance in the trunk. “So will you do it? Will you be my best man?”

“How can you think about that now?” Jared wondered.

Dalton glanced in the trunk again and shuddered. “I know my timing stinks, but I don’t want to wait to marry Elizabeth.”

“Do you see this?” Jared asked.

“Of course I see it.”

“It’s a message,” Jared said. “He’s mad that someone tried to blame the attempts on Elizabeth’s life on him. He’s making it clear what is his work and that women don’t survive when he abducts them.”

“He’s a sick SOB,” Dalton agreed. “But you know that.”

“I know that he might try to get Elizabeth now—to prove that she wouldn’t have survived if he’d actually grabbed her. You shouldn’t get married now.”

Dalton sighed. “You’ve never been in love, have you?”

Jared sucked in a sharp breath as if his friend had slugged him.

And Dalton apologized. “I’m sorry. I almost forgot about that first victim’s sister...”

Jared had never been able to forget her. And now he never would. But he didn’t want to talk about Becca. “I know you love Elizabeth, so you should want to keep her safe.”

Dalton said, “I will keep her safe. And so will you. You’re going to stop him.”

“I’ve been trying for six years,” he reminded his friend. “I haven’t been successful yet.” He hadn’t even been able to establish a profile of the killer until the second victim. Since Lexi’s body hadn’t been found, he hadn’t known exactly how this killer killed until then.

“You will be,” Dalton said with absolute confidence.

The arrival of the coroner’s van saved Jared from a reply. Six years ago he’d been confident he would stop this killer—like he’d stopped so many others before and after him. Now he wasn’t so sure. But still, when he notified Amy’s parents and fiancé, he found himself making them the same promise that he’d made Becca.

He would get this guy. For them. For Amy. For all those other victims. For Lexi. And, even though she had denied him six years of his son’s life, for Becca. Maybe most of all for Becca.

He would stop this killer if it was the last thing he ever did.

* * *

REBECCA HADN’T MEANT to turn the television back on after Jared left. She really didn’t want to see the news—not when she was sure that Jared had rushed out because a body had been found. Amy Wilcox’s body.

The camera zoomed in on the open trunk of a silver car—and the blood-stained wedding gown spilling out of it. The scene in that fallow cornfield, so much like the one she and Jared had come upon, knocked her back six years. There had been so much blood...

But on the television screen, it wasn’t just a dress that had been found, like it had been with Lexi. Moments later another camera followed a gurney on which lay a black plastic bag—a body zipped inside it—to the coroner’s van.

The young woman had known Lexi—had been her friend. And now both women were dead. Gone. Forever.

Was Jared forever gone? Or would he be back? He’d only been gone a few hours.

But he had been so shocked when he left. So betrayed.

He’d apologized for thinking that Alex could have been his, for thinking that she could have kept a secret like that. He had given her too much credit, and now she was the one who owed him the apology. So many apologies for all the years she’d kept him from their son.

She couldn’t call him, though—even if she hadn’t thrown away his phone number all those years ago. He was in the middle of what was now another murder investigation. He had a family to notify.

A killer to find...

Would he find him now? Would he look where she had been pointing him? Where Lexi had pointed her?

Had Harris known Amy Wilcox, too?

She turned off the television, shutting off the blond-haired man she realized now was Kyle Smith. Over the years he had hounded her more relentlessly than the others—wanting that follow-up interview, wanting to open up all her pain again. But he hadn’t been interested in just Lexi. He’d wanted Rebecca to talk about FBI profiler Special Agent Bell, too. Like Jared, he hadn’t wanted to talk about the real killer, either. Harris Mowery hadn’t been newsworthy to him.

Maybe she could find what the FBI profiler and investigative reporter had failed to find—evidence leading to the real killer. She reached for the plastic tub of Lexi’s photos and letters and journals and dragged it across the floor to the couch where she sat.

Rebecca had been so busy taking notes during class and studying that she’d had no time for journaling. But Lexi had written every night—sometimes just a short paragraph or sometimes pages. Remembering the date on the photo Jared had showed her, Rebecca reached for that year—the year that Lexi had disappeared. The journal cover was neon green with yellow and orange stripes. It was bright and happy like Lexi had always seemed. But inside those pages was another story—a dark story. This was the journal in which Rebecca had found those photos—of the battered and bruised Lexi.

Jared had been right: it was too great a coincidence that the women had been photographed together the month that Lexi had disappeared—especially when that woman later disappeared like Lexi had.

She had looked through this journal earlier when Jared had been there—after he had looked at it and determined that there was no mention of Amy Wilcox. The photos had distracted and angered her then. Now she focused on what Lexi had written. While there was no mention of Amy, Lexi had written several references to meeting someone she had nicknamed Root Beer. Amy’s initials were the name brand of a popular root beer.

Could it be?

It was something Lexi would have done—something cute and funny. But they hadn’t met that way. Lexi had met Root Beer at a support group for battered women.

Harris had been battering Lexi. Who had been battering Amy? From the news reports, Rebecca knew Amy’s age; she was younger than Lexi. She must have only been in high school when she’d gone to those meetings.

So whoever had abused her was probably no longer in her life. From Lexi’s comments, it was clear that Root Beer had impressed her with strength and wisdom beyond her years. Amy had actually been supportive to Lexi.

Could Harris have known?

Her pulse quickened as she skimmed over a passage. Then she read it again, aloud.

“Ran into Root Beer when I was out with Harris at the mall. She told him that she’d heard a lot of wonderful things about Harry. She said it, though, in such a way that he knew she had heard nothing wonderful about him. And he hates being called Harry. He got so mad at her sassiness that I thought he was going to hit her. But he controlled his temper until we got home and hit me instead. Root Beer saw the bruises at the next meeting and cried. It’s not her fault, though. It’s not even Harris’s fault anymore. It’s my fault for staying. But I’m even more afraid of what he’ll do if I leave...”

That must have been why Harris had killed her—because she’d found the courage to leave him. Had he decided to kill Amy because he thought Lexi might have gotten some of that courage from the younger girl? But, in keeping with the other killings, he’d had to wait until Amy had gotten engaged—until she was ready to begin a happy new adventure.

Tears stung Rebecca’s eyes. She blinked and wrinkled her nose, trying to hold back her tears. She had cried so many tears over the past six years. For Lexi. For herself. And for all the other victims.

Despite her efforts, she couldn’t hold back her tears. Amy deserved them. But was she crying them for Amy? Or was she crying them for herself—out of guilt over not telling Jared he had a son?

She had spent the past six years trying to justify her action, or inaction, to herself. But there was no justification. Jared had deserved to know the truth and so had Alex. She had been so selfish, keeping her son—her amazing, intelligent, sweet son—all to herself.

Jared might never forgive her. Would Alex? Earlier she’d been confident that she could make it up to him. But she had spent the past six years trying to be both his mother and his father. And she’d failed.

She wasn’t the male role model her son craved. She’d dated over the past six years, but she hadn’t brought many of the dates around Alex. She hadn’t wanted her son to get attached to any of them—because she hadn’t been able to get attached herself.

None of them had been Jared, who was too smart. Too cocky. Too oblivious to her feelings...

Why hadn’t she been able to get completely over him? She doubted he had thought that often of her over the past six years. But then she’d had Alex—precocious, brilliant Alex—to constantly remind her of Jared.

Heat flushed her face, and she quickly brushed away her tears—as if embarrassed that she’d been caught crying. She glanced to the hallway leading to the bedrooms and bath, but Alex wasn’t standing there. He hadn’t awakened.

She was alone.

Wasn’t she?

Her skin prickled with awareness—of someone’s gaze on her.

You’re being watched...

After that ominous call, she had closed the curtains. But with the lights on in the living room, someone could probably see through the thin fabric. Someone could be out there—watching her.

Goose bumps rose along her arms, and she shivered. Not could be. Someone was definitely out there— watching her through the curtains. Why?

You’re in danger...

And if she was in danger, so was Alex. After that call earlier, maybe she should have done more than close the curtains. Maybe she should have called the police.

And tell them what? That she got an ominous phone call? They couldn’t investigate every prank call. And there had been no obvious threat made.

It had been more of a warning.

You’re in danger...

Maybe she had let that call get to her—like Jared had thought he’d let the reporter get to him. Maybe that call had put her on edge, and she was only imagining that someone was watching her.

Gathering her courage, she turned toward the window and pulled back the curtain to peer out into the darkness. The light from the living room spilled out—and glinted off the eyes staring in the window at her.

She clasped her hand over her mouth to hold in the scream of sheer terror.

You’re being watched...

It was no prank. Someone was out there.

You’re in danger...

And whoever was out there meant her harm.

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