“I have a good number of dedicated followers, fortunately. I’d have to do some analyzing to narrow it down a bit. But I can do that if it’ll help.”
Nate pushed aside the personal emotions that kept him from looking at this situation objectively. “Okay then, if we’re going to do this, we need to get a few things out of the way.”
“Such as?”
“We’ll need to tap your phone. Same with your computer and any other device you utilize on the net. You’ll be under surveillance.”
“I can work with those conditions for a time. As long as the warrant for the taps is specific. I don’t want any of my followers to end up snared in some sort of broader search.”
“I’ll make sure the warrant is specific. You’ll see it as well.”
“All right. Will you be doing the surveillance?”
He laughed. “I haven’t worked in the field for a while,” he reminded her. “You’ll want someone not so rusty.”
A good agent always recognized his limitations.
She shook her head. “No. You’re here. I know you. I want you.”
As much as he appreciated hearing those words—they definitely stroked his ego—he didn’t want to be the reason she was hurt in whatever came next.
“You wouldn’t be as safe with me, Lara,” he confessed.
“But I want to be with you,” she said without hesitation. “I feel comfortable with you. If I’m going to do this, I need to be comfortable.” She lifted her chin and gave him a look that warned she would not change her mind. “Those are my terms. No negotiation.”
“I’ll pass it along.” He couldn’t decide whether to indulge himself in her flattery or to be frustrated that she wasn’t hearing him.
Maybe the answer was that he’d simply have to up his game.
Lara’s safety could depend upon him.
Chapter Four
Beaumont Drive
Nashville, Tennessee, Noon
Lara had only met Rayna Wilson twice. At her mother’s funeral and at Rayna and Terry’s wedding. Growing up, Lara had known Rayna, but they hadn’t been friends. Though, looking back, it was surprising that they weren’t. Rayna was actually Dr. Rayna Wilson, assistant medical examiner of Davidson County. She and Lara had a good deal in common when it came to crime.
The main difference was that Lara focused on the perpetrators of crime and Rayna on the victims.
When Lara first returned to Maple Ridge the capture of an infamous serial killer was still the talk of Nashville. She’d done a two-part segment on Julian Addington. Like the Butcher, Addington had managed to elude authorities for decades.
“It wasn’t necessary to go to all this trouble,” Lara said, feeling guilty for invading the Wilson home with the problems she hadn’t even known existed until a few hours ago.
“We’re happy to have you here,” Rayna argued as she checked through the take-out bags that had been delivered moments ago. “It’s not like I cooked.”
Lara smiled. She liked Rayna. She was quite blunt and, judging by her bio, nothing less than brilliant. Terry’s adoration for his wife of four years was obvious in the way he looked at her. They were expecting their first child, a boy, due in March. It seemed everyone Lara had known growing up had already started a family.
Maybe she was behind the curve but that had never bothered her.
Not until her mother died. It was the strangest feeling, being alone in the world. Except that might not be entirely true.
Lara exiled the thoughts and produced a smile. “Still, we’ve interrupted your Saturday afternoon.”
Rayna moved to the fridge. She glanced at Lara before opening the door. “Your mother never spoke of your father in any way that suggested he might not be who she’d thought he was?”
Lara got it now. Her host was curious. Further verification that the two of them had much in common. “Never. My entire life, she presented my father as the military hero who died so very young.”
Rayna settled a pitcher of tea on the island. “When an otherwise loving parent does that sort of thing, generally they think they’re protecting us. That’s assuming she was aware of any deception.”
Whatever her reason for keeping his secret—assuming, as Rayna said, her mother was aware the man was still alive—protecting Lara would no doubt have been her motive. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Butcher,” Lara said. There really was no question, but it seemed the right way to kick off that aspect of the conversation.
Rayna’s eyebrows reared up. “Is there anyone who isn’t?”
“Probably not,” Lara admitted. “I’d be very interested in hearing your thoughts on who he is and what motivates him?” Lara had plenty of feelings on the subject but, under the circumstances, she needed a more objective opinion. Rayna’s undergraduate work had focused on the criminal mind.
Nate and Terry were in the living room, no doubt discussing how to ensure Lara’s protection around the clock. The FBI was sending two agents from the Nashville office to assist with the surveillance of her home. Terry would serve as lead in support from the sheriff’s department.
All this fuss over her decision to do a segment on DNA and the genealogy craze. Lara’s head was still spinning.
She abruptly felt like a stranger in her own skin. If only she hadn’t gone down that path…too late now.
“Based on what little I know about his victims he’s at the top of the evil scale,” Rayna pointed out.
“A torturer-murderer,” Lara said. She was familiar with the scale of evil used to measure the heinousness of criminals.
“The killing isn’t what drives him,” Rayna went on. “It’s the torture.”
The victims of the Butcher were viciously tortured. Deep inside Lara shuddered. Researching and presenting information on a particular subject was one thing, but to see that killer as a person—a father—was difficult.
This was far too close to home.
This was personal.
“The real question for me,” Rayna settled drinking glasses on the island, “is why no particular type? It’s like anything goes.”
This was a big question. Lara said, “I’m convinced there’s something about each victim that calls to him. We just don’t know what it is.” The one consistency in the Butcher case was simple: his only pattern was that he had no pattern. Making him all the more elusive.
“He has a purpose,” Rayna agreed, her brow furrowed in thought. “Figuring out what that purpose is could make all the difference in catching him.”
“He has no intention of making it easy,” Lara pointed out. “He strikes at random. When the mood hits him, it would seem.”
Rayna nodded. “The urge. Considering the often-long periods of time between victims, it’s almost like he struggles mightily to fight the urge.”
Did that make him any less evil?
No. A killer was a killer.
Lara nodded. “His work is well planned. Telling us that even after he can no longer control the urge, he restrains himself until he develops a careful strategy for the execution of his strike. No impulse kills. He’s very cautious.”