“Stupid,” Heath muttered.
“Desperate,” Ryker countered. “The video was from the camera at a small post office, so I tracked around town and found one more shot, this one from a small bank.”
“Okay.” So they’d found Jackson before she’d been kidnapped. “How does that help us?”
“The same truck is in the background in both shots. Ran the plates and nothing. We think Jackson disappeared right after visiting that bank. So, ah, Denver hacked into some satellite feeds—don’t ask about the legality.”
“And?” Their brother Denver was a genius at hacking governmental technology. Heath’s breathing sped up with the scent of a trail.
“We’ve tracked the truck to a farm about two hours from your current location.” Ryker sighed. “Well, we think we have. Satellite had the truck for a while, but there’s a colossal storm over the Northwest, and cloud cover is too thick. We then used Google satellite images to find what looks like a farm—the only one with structures in that area.”
“Most farms in the area grow crops?” Heath sped up on the icy road, his shoulders stiffening. They’d found her.
“Yeah. Some wheat. But this place, at least from the images, doesn’t look like a working farm. There aren’t enough structures. Another satellite picture from two years ago shows it to be abandoned. There’s a large crumbling barn and two more outbuildings that might not even exist now.”
It was a long way to drive for an unlikely place, but it was all they had. “Send the coordinates to my phone.”
“Denver is heading over from the Montana-Idaho border where we’ve been working from a block of cabins. If we found this lead, the FBI should have it soon, so be careful.”
“I will. Also, two guys bugged Anya Best’s phone, looking for us.” Heath increased the speed of the wipers against the pelting snow.
“All right. Are you free of them?”
Considering he’d smashed their car to bits, yeah. “I’m free.”
“Good. One thing at a time. Let’s find Special Agent Jackson and go from there,” Ryker said.
Heath flipped on the heater. “We have to find her before he kills her.” The Copper Killer took delight in torturing victims before killing them, and he hadn’t left a clue with the eight previous kills. “She has to be okay.”
“Shit, Heath. You need to keep a distance here.” Concern wove through Ryker’s tone.
“I’m trying. Loretta is strong and smart—and he’ll attempt to strip that away from her.” That’s what bullies did. Who knew who his mother could’ve been if just one loser boyfriend hadn’t kept supplying her with drugs? He couldn’t fail again. “The killer might not be prepared for a trained FBI agent. He might have to kill quickly with Loretta. The bastard.”
“I know,” Ryker murmured. “But you have to keep cold and sane. Any woman in trouble pushes your buttons. You need to be smart and distant for this fuckin’ case.”
“Got it.” His brother had always tried to protect his psyche, and Heath knew to listen to him. “I’ll stay clear thinking. I promise.”
“Good. Wait for Denver before going in.” Ryker clicked off.
Heath tossed the phone onto the seat and glared up at the heavily overcast sky. He hadn’t liked leaving Anya by herself, but she’d be safer with the FBI for now. He dialed his brother again.
“Yeah?” Ryker asked.
“Do a search on Anya Best, Loretta’s sister. I want to know everything about her,” Heath said.
Silence ticked over the line for a moment. “The bruised one?”
Heath closed his eyes for a moment and then reopened them to watch the road. “Just do it. I need the info for this case.” He clicked off, knowing he hadn’t fooled his brother a bit. The last thing he needed right now was another lecture on his penchant for trying to save lost souls.
Anya wasn’t lost. Hell, the woman had even held a gun on him. He grinned.
Soon sleet mixed with snow and made him slow down for the two-hour drive. He had the rural roads to himself and quickly climbed through a series of forested ravines.
Scrub brush, rocks, pine trees, and snow surrounded him. A chill slithered down his back. The turnoff came into view, and he followed a barely there trail, parking about a half mile from where the barn had been two years ago. He took several precious moments to wipe down the truck and any evidence either he or Anya had been inside, just in case he had to leave it behind.
His body thrumming, he jumped from the truck, and cold assailed him. He zipped his coat, tugged the collar around his neck, and turned to dodge through snowy pine trees. Within minutes, the barn came into view.
Heath reached for his phone and dialed Ryker. “I’ve found it.”
“Wait for backup. Denver will be there in fifteen minutes,” Ryker ordered.
Even with the storm, the air was too quiet. Tension hung over the entire area. Heath had to go in. “Tell him to hurry. I’m finding her now.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket before Ryker could argue.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and zeroed in with his odd senses.
One heartbeat, barely, could be heard from the crumbling barn.
He launched into a run for the building, reaching it quickly and pressing his back to the chilled wood of the barn, trying to see through the swirling snow. Visibility was nil, so he closed his eyes and tuned in. Nothing. He centered himself and tried again, barely making out a slow heartbeat. Maybe.
Drawing his gun free, he inched toward the door, keeping his steps light on the icy snow. His gloves were thin enough so he could easily control the weapon.
The wind blew an angry aria through the pine trees, scattering even more snow. Cold slashed into him, and he ducked his chin into his coat.
If Loretta was inside, she’d be freezing.
He nudged open the door and listened. The storm increased in force along with the wind, banishing all other sounds. Damn it. His body bunched to move, but his mind and training took over. Slowly, he finished opening the door and slipped inside a narrow tack room. Threadbare leather halters hung from rusted nails, and a ripped saddle had been shoved against the widely spaced wooden slats at the far end.
Dirty hay covered the concrete floor and had been kicked into clumps. Had there been a struggle?
The smell of blood hit him hard enough to catch his breath. Metallic and thick. His body short-circuited, and his mind went blank. Panic threw him into action.
He shoved through the room and charged into a sprawling barn area. A woman lay on the ground, her head turned away, blood pooling around her. He moved toward her, and a slight whisper of movement came from behind him. He turned, and something hard struck his head, shooting sparks in front of his eyes.
His brain slammed against his skull, and he went down. Darkness claimed him a second later.
CHAPTER
4
Anya thanked the junior agent who dropped her at the front door of the FBI offices in Snowville. The storm had made the fifteen-minute drive last about half an hour. She barreled through the storm to push open the door. The woman behind the counter and Plexiglass wall pressed a button, and Anya strode down the hallway. She waited for another door to open and then walked into the main bullpen.
Instant heat and activity surrounded her.
“I don’t give one damn about the storm. We’re getting those helicopters in the air right now,” Special Agent Frederick Reese bellowed, shoving papers into a manila file at a wide wooden table. By far the tallest man in the room, he overwhelmed his entire area.
Agents scurried around him, several talking on phones. Two offices sat off to the side, both manned by agents typing furiously on computers.
Anya rushed to him. “What the hell, Reese? How could you not tell me?” Without thinking, she punched him right in the gut.
He barely bent over. “We didn’t want to scare you.”
“You complete dick,” she breathed, clutching her purse tightly. “Where’s my sister? What d
o you know?”
“We have an update.” He looked down at her, his brown eyes swirling with emotion. “Your sister was taken from a small town called Gold City in Idaho. We found surveillance videos, and we might have an idea where she is.” He scoured the room, and his voice rose. “But we need the helicopters in the air.”
Anya took a step back, her heart thundering.
Reese was six feet of pure male muscle with deep brown eyes and thick brown hair. Wildness and fury lit his eyes.
She caught her breath, heat rushing through her head until her ears rang. “You have to keep it together,” she whispered. She’d yell at him again later. Right now, he had to find her sister. If the FBI discovered he’d been dating Loretta, they might take him off the case. Anya grabbed his arm. “It’s okay. We’ll find her, Reese.”
The door in the back of the room burst open, and a fifty-something agent with silver hair hustled inside. “We have another letter and photograph. Already dusted the envelope, paper, and picture for prints. Nothing.”
Anya’s legs gave way. Her mind numbed.
Reese grabbed her and pushed her into a chair, reaching for the stack. “Fuck. When?”
“Mailed yesterday,” the agent said, stepping back.
Anya shook her head to clear her brain, leaning over to see her name and address scrawled across the front of the envelope. The FBI had issued a forwarding order for her mail after the first few notes. The familiar handwriting made her gag. “Oh God. Reese—”
“Hold on,” he bit out, flipping the paper over. “We don’t know she’s dead.”
A tear slid down Anya’s face, feeling cold. “He sends me a letter after he kills them.” This was the ninth letter.
Reese flattened the letter on the table.
Anya shifted to read it.
Dearest Anya,
Your sister tries to be you, but she can’t. I’m so sorry, but she can’t be you. I should’ve known . . . but I had to try. And she tempted me, wanting me to take her. It was almost a dare. Her hair isn’t red like yours, not really. I haven’t heard her scream yet. Truly, I don’t want to hurt what is yours. I’ll try not to.
XO
Me
“She’s still alive,” Reese said, his hands shaking.
Anya panted out air. “Yes.” There was no alternative. Not really. She tried to stand taller as her knees trembled. More than ever, she wished for her dad. For that security.
A man in jeans and a dark sweater hustled in from one of the offices, a computer tablet in his hands. “The storm is too wild. Even if we took the birds up, we wouldn’t be able to see anything or land, Reese. We have to wait.”
“I’m not waiting.” Reese grabbed a coat off a rack. “What’s the nearest SWAT team to where we think she was kidnapped?”
“Spokane,” a woman spoke up from one of the offices. “Fine. Somebody is taking me via air. Get SWAT from Spokane to get their asses up there right now,” Reese bellowed, motioning to several agents as he strode for the door.
Anya grabbed his arm. “I can’t stay here. Please let me come.”
He halted midstride and glanced down at her hand.
She released him. This was all her fault. She had to do something.
Reese’s gaze darkened. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. You are not responsible for any of this.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Yes, I am. Loretta is involved because of me. It’s my fault. I called her.”
Reese shook his head. “Loretta always makes her own decisions, believe me. She got involved in the case because she wanted to be in the center and help you. You’re sisters. That’s what family does.”
“I know,” Anya said, clasping her hands together. “So I should help now, too.”
“You have. Your insights into his mind have been invaluable.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t figured out his connection to me. Not yet.” The guy wanted her for some reason.
“Might not be a real one. He could’ve just seen you on the street one day.” Reese zipped up his jacket. “This isn’t my first serial, Anya. They’re all nuts.”
“I need to help,” she implored.
“How did you find out she was taken, anyway? Do we have a leak?” He scanned the room.
She winced. “A private detective who had been working with Loretta told me.” Now wasn’t the time to discuss Heath’s problems or the fake marshals. Loretta was more important.
“Do you trust him?”
Trust Heath? The guy had people shooting at him, for pete’s sake. Life was black and white, good or bad. The gray area didn’t really exist for her. “I don’t trust him, but I do think he’s a good detective, based on what Loretta said about him.”
Reese breathed out. “Give all of his information to one of the agents while I’m gone, and I’ll follow up with him. I want to talk to anybody who has seen Loretta in the last month.”
Anya blinked. “He’s not the Copper Killer, Reese.” While a few things about Heath didn’t quite ring true, he’d seemed way too angry about the killer. Why she felt the need to defend him, she’d never know. “He might be helpful in finding my sister.”
Reese frowned. “Give us his contact information so I can talk to him. Thanks.” He turned for the door.
“Wait. Please. What if Loretta needs me?” Her voice had risen in the plea, but she didn’t care.
He paused and then shook his head. “I’ll call you with any update.” His voice gentled. “I can’t take you into a combat situation, Anya. Your sister will kill me if I do.” His smile was halfhearted at best but did reveal a dimple in his left cheek.
Why hadn’t she trained as a profiler or a police psychiatrist? The rules probably didn’t allow for Reese to take a civilian. “Call the second you know anything, and I’ll go through the files again.” For the zillionth time. Maybe something new would leap out at her.
“Agent Dingman?” Reese called.
The woman from the side office approached, her hair a wild mass around her broad shoulders. She was about thirty and had sharp brown eyes. “Yes, Reese?”
“Make sure you get Anya’s statement about the private detective.” His gaze didn’t leave Anya’s. “Keep her here until we bring back her sister. You know, so Loretta doesn’t stab us both to death.”
Anya tried to give him a smile.
“I’ll go get Loretta.” He patted her shoulder and strode again for the door, quickly disappearing.
Dingman cleared her throat, showing stress lines at the sides of her mouth. “I just got here. Do you mind catching me up to speed?”
Anya swallowed. “Absolutely. Why don’t you tell me what you know so far?” She moved toward the big table in the center of the room. Perhaps talking about the case again would make something stand out to her. It was a long shot, but she had to do something. Anything.
Dingman’s eyes lit as she scanned the files on the table. “Okay. The Copper Killer kidnaps redheaded family members of folks involved in law enforcement. We’ve traced this guy’s movements from women he has taken to where we’ve found the bodies.” She turned and pointed to the far wall, where pictures of the victims had been taped up. The victims ranged in age from seventeen to thirty, all with reddish hair and all related to either a cop or a private detective.
Anya’s chest ached at seeing a picture of Loretta taped up there. “Right,” she murmured quietly. A lump settled into her stomach. She had her own set of pictures and notes at her apartment. She turned back toward a map on the table. “Based on the timeline, we think he’s still in Idaho or maybe Washington State. He seems to like the Northwest.”
Dingman nodded.
“Do you know my sister?” Anya asked quietly.
Dingman’s face fell. “Yeah, I do. We both usually work out of the DC office, but Loretta travels for cases a lot.”
Yeah. The second Anya had called, Loretta had headed to Snowville and joined the serial killer task force there. “So you were brought in to crunch data now that s
he’s been taken,” Anya asked, her throat going dry.
“I volunteered. I look at the data and try to find patterns. I also read the notes from the behavioral science experts from the FBI.”
Anya frowned. “The profilers?”
Dingman’s lips twitched. “They don’t like being called that, believe it or not.”
“I’ve already read their files. Did you learn anything?” Anya studied the map with carefully marked locations of abductions.
“This guy has a serious problem with both authority figures and redheads.” Dingman shrugged. “Maybe his mother was a crazy redhead who abused him, and his father was a cop who beat him or didn’t care. It seems like the profiles are kind of obvious, if you ask me. Unless they’re wrong.”
Anya breathed out. “That’s what I found as well. My dad was a cop—the best. We’ve factored that into the profile since the killer has focused on me.”
Dingman studied her. “His fascination with you is interesting, but tracing your past, we’ve found nothing.” She opened a file that held copies of the letters the killer had sent to her. “It does seem as if he knows you.”
Anya shivered. “Maybe. There’s nothing specific to me or my past in any of the eight letters, so it could be he saw me and became fixated. Or perhaps he found me on the Internet on the college website.” Many serial killers created connections where there were none. “I shouldn’t have called her.”
Dingman patted her arm. “Of course you called your sister when a serial killer started sending you letters. Who wouldn’t?”
“Yeah, but Loretta wasn’t on this case.” Anya swallowed, her throat feeling like she’d swallowed glass. “We need to find this guy.” Before he killed her sister.
“Yeah.” Dingman shoved curly black hair away from her face. “One of the profilers thinks the killer might have a partner, just based on timelines and how quickly he moves. He’s also able to subdue some trained women pretty easily.”
“Like Loretta.” Tears pricked the backs of Anya’s eyes.
“Right. So maybe he has help?”