Something caught her attention, and it wasn’t him. She watched down the road. A vehicle was approaching with its light on bright. He stepped back into the shadows as the vehicle rolled to a stop beside the woman.
The passenger door opened. He recognized the agent from earlier. Without a doubt, they’d spoken to Lizzy, which meant she would have given them a list of her friends They would reach out to every single one of her former contacts and put them into protective custody.
He continued around the side of the house. They thought they were winning. Keeping information secret to try and catch him. Well, he’d change the game. Make it his completely. Force them to do what he wished.
Nearby a dog barked. He froze. Listened. The two agents were coming. They’d heard the dog as well. He quickly jumped the fence separating her place from the empty lot behind. Luckily, he was in his best physical condition. His body worked like a finely tuned machine. Sprinting across the empty lot, he melted into the woods at the back of the neighborhood, then stopped to listen. The two agents were talking to each other. They’d seen his footprints. They’d call in backup. Soon the entire area would be saturated with law enforcement.
He kept up a fast pace until he reached the car he’d boosted. It was risky to use his own because he couldn’t afford to have it traced back to him. He started the car and sped away while slamming his fist against the dash.
You are such a failure. . . He could almost hear his mentor laughing at his incompetence. I should have killed you when I had the chance.
“No. You are the incompetent one. Because of you, we were exposed. Because of you and father, I became a killer.” He kept a careful watch on the rearview mirror while speeding down the streets, turning frequently, keeping to the less traveled paths.
The family home in the woods was there waiting for his next victim, but there wouldn’t be one tonight. Still, he kept driving until he reached it. He needed its peace. Needed to remember his kills there. Needed to forget the past.
But the house was a reminder of how it all began.
He pulled up to the barbed wire gate and got out. The air was thick with snow. Winter still had the area in a chokehold.
With the gate secured once more, he drove to the house. Opening the car door, he slammed it shut without dispersing his rage. Inside the cabin he stared at the simple interior of the house where he’d grown up, and he screamed at the top of his voice. Threw the coffee table across the room, then swiped the magazines off the small desk he sometimes used.
They had interfered for the last time. From here on out, they would play his game. He dropped to the threadbare sofa when his cell phone buzzed again.
His wife. This was the fourth message she’d sent him. She expected him home soon. But he couldn’t go home to her like this. If he did, she’d become his next victim.
Hopping to his feet, he paced the small space, his attention going to the room he’d once shared with his brothers. Every time he thought about Kevin his heart broke. His death had been horrific at the hands of their father. If it hadn’t been for Kevin stepping in to take his punishment, he would have died instead of Kevin.
He walked out the back of the house and stared past the dilapidated garage to the spot he’d buried both mother and older brother Kevin where no one else would ever find them. And then later. . .
The last death had been the most rewarding, but it had come at the cost of his soul.
His mentor had made him give his father all the violence that he deserved. They’d burned the body and scattered his ashes around the property. At the time, he’d thought Edward Buckley was a savior until he’d learned the truth about their connection. By then it was too late.
“I should have killed you along with my father.” The words from his mentor echoed down the sloped landscape past his family’s final resting place.
He’d grown up under Buckley’s strict control. Graduated and married, never realizing the price he’d be forced to pay for his freedom from his father.
Buckley had a thirst for blood. He’d boasted about the lives he’d taken as a young man. Even his wife’s. Through the years of being imprisoned for his wife’s death, Buckley’s quest for blood had grown, ready to be unleashed.
He still remembered the day his mentor came to him and told him killing was in his blood, and it was time to set it free.
The first victim’s death happened quickly. He’d gone outside and been sick. After watching the violence his father exacted on his mother and brothers as well as himself, he never imagined how difficult it would be to take a life. . . until he’d done it.
His mentor’s skills far overshadowed his father’s. He’d done his best to please Buckley, never imagining he would enjoy the thrill of the kill more than his father or Buckley. But he had. And he couldn’t wait to claim another victim.
◆◆◆
Asher spotted her at the back of the room staring out the window. As he approached, Olivia turned. That worried furrow between her brows was the first giveaway of how she felt.
“You okay?” he asked. “How’s Tracy?” It was a shock to learn the killer had tried to get to Tracy again.
“She’s hanging in there.” Olivia forced a smile, and it relaxed her pretty face. She was so beautiful, and he couldn’t deny he had feelings for her, but their past connection to his brother stood between them. Always would.
“Tracy’s tough. She’ll be okay.” He stood beside her and stared out at the city lights. “We have everyone on Lizzy’s list in protective custody. They’re safe.”
Olivia turned toward him. “That’s a relief.” She searched his face. “There’s something else?”
He wasn’t so sure. “Maybe,” he said at last. “There was a single set of footprints at the home of one of the women on Lizzy’s list. They led from the side of the house through an empty lot behind. We think he was there before we arrived. If Luke and Declan had been delayed a few minutes more—”
Olivia clasped his hand. “But they weren’t.”
“Yes, but with all the people on the list out of play, who will be his next target?”
A small shiver visibly slipped through Olivia’s frame. “He’s smart. Buckley might have been the one who taught him to kill, but the new Van Gogh is going to change things up and keep us guessing about what’s coming next.”
Her words settled over him uneasily. “Has ERT found anything useful at the church or on Sylvia?”
Olivia shook her head. “Not yet. It’s believed the killer wore gloves when he brought the victim into the sanctuary. And. . .” She lowered her voice. “I heard back from Sheriff Callahan. Lizzy attended the church for a while. I’m guessing that’s the connection.” But she didn’t sound completely convinced and neither was he.
“You have doubts?”
She nodded. “It seems a little too convenient. I feel like we’re missing something.” She shook her head. “Luke and I spoke to several of the neighbors that looked after the church. We have a lead. The afternoon before Sylvia was found, one of the church members drove by the place on his way to the grocery store. He noticed a car parked at the side of the building. When he returned he noticed it was gone. It fits with the timeline.”