“Cameron isn’t like other serial killers. I don’t think there was any compulsion for him. He wasn’t driven to commit the crimes because he had to do them. The murders were a challenge. He wanted to see if he could get away with the kills.” One of her slender shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. “And he did.”
No, he didn’t. You found out. You saw the monster.
“The perp on the video...he’s different. I think you knew he was different, but you still came down here to me.” Her lips thinned. “I hate you wasted a trip.”
“What’s wasting is your talent. You’re a good FBI agent—”
“I’m not FBI. No badge. And I’m really not eager to step back into that circus.” Her hand lifted, and she was the one to touch him. Her fingers lightly squeezed his shoulder. “I wish you the best of luck on this case. I hope you catch that guy before he hurts anyone else.”
He couldn’t look away from her golden eyes. “Don’t tell me the victim doesn’t matter to you.” Because he’d counted on Kristy mattering. He’d been so sure that once she saw what the other woman had endured—
“What am I supposed to do?” Samantha asked him. “What is it that you want from me?”
Everything. But they’d get to that...soon enough.
* * *
YOU CAN’T HIDE from me, Samantha Dark.
He stood in the shadows of a big, arching oak tree. The wind blew against his face as he stared at her cottage. So very far from DC.
Samantha Dark had slipped away from the Bureau. Just vanished. But he’d known that someone knew where she’d been lurking. After all...what were partners for?
He’d just needed the right bait. The right tool. And he’d had to be patient. Had to wait and watch and then...
Then he led me right to you.
FBI Agent Blake Gamble was in the little house with her right then. So predictable. Every move that guy had made—I saw it coming.
Samantha Dark was his end goal. She was the one he wanted to face. She was the one who had to pay.
But...
He intended to have a little bit of fun with her before she died. After all, death was the easy part. He’d been taught that lesson by a master. It was the pain, the suffering, the absolute loss of hope—that was the best. That was the rush.
Samantha Dark, before I’m done with you...you will break apart.
Because that was exactly what she deserved.
It was time to let Samantha know that she wasn’t hidden any longer. Time to let her know that he’d found her—and that she was about to pay for her crimes.
“I WANT YOU to come back to DC with me.”
Samantha blinked. Her heart raced too fast in her chest, and she couldn’t get the image of Kristy Wales out of her mind.
“You say this isn’t Latham—”
“It’s not.” She was dead certain of that fact. A copycat? Yes, she could see that. But this wasn’t Cameron.
“Then that’s why we need you.”
She forced herself to step away from him. A hard thing to do because he always seemed to call to her. “The FBI has plenty of other profilers. Competent profilers who can get the job done. They’ll find this killer. You don’t need me.” Samantha’s hand fell back to her side. “I sure hate you came all the way down here for this. You should have called. I could have saved you a trip—”
He grabbed her hand, stepped close to her again, and her drumming heartbeat accelerated even more. “I need you.”
“Blake—”
“You’re right. The FBI does have other profilers. But they don’t have you. You looked at that video and then instantly said it wasn’t him.”
“Because I know Cameron!”
His smile was grim and satisfied. “Exactly. You know the bastard. You know his crimes better than anyone else because you got in his head before.”
But he got in mine, too.
“This killer isn’t Cameron. The other profilers will be able to handle him.” She needed to pull her hand away from him. She needed to put space between them. “You don’t want me.”
His thick lashes lowered as his gaze swept over her. A tense moment of silence stretched between them. Then Blake gave a hard nod. “I see.”
What exactly did he see? Samantha hesitated.
His thumb slid along her inner wrist. “You’re afraid.”
Her chin notched up.
“That’s why you ran down here, isn’t it? You ran all the way down here because you’re afraid of that bastard.”
Smart people would be afraid of a cold-blooded killer, but Blake had her fear all wrong. “My instincts can’t be trusted.” Her voice came out too husky. “He was close to me, Blake.” I let him in. I trusted him. “And I didn’t see him for what he truly was. Not until it was too late.” She pulled her wrist from him because his touch made her uncomfortable. He made her uncomfortable. “I can’t even judge my own lovers. How the hell can I possibly trust myself when it comes to creating profiles for killers?”
Silence.
She backed away from him. “I can’t help you. Go back to DC, find that killer. Use the resources you have up there—”
“I trust you.”
Those deep words seemed to reverberate right through her.
“And you want to know why I didn’t call? Because I knew you’d refuse to help me. I knew you’d run away for a reason.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “But the time for hiding is over. We need to go to work, Samantha. We need to find this killer, and we need to give Kristy the justice that she deserves.”
* * *
THE FIRST STEP was always to survey your territory. To learn your hunting ground. So he spent the morning exploring the city of Fairhope and the land around it. He went on the back roads—and there were plenty of them. He found the abandoned houses, the empty buildings. He surveyed the water because, after all, he’d always loved the water. He knew just how to use it. He bought maps. He made his plans.
Rushing to act wouldn’t work for him. He had to be careful. He’d been planning to get Samantha within his grasp for so very long. He couldn’t afford to screw up.
He talked to the locals. Some people were always so eager to overshare. He learned more special spots in the area. Secluded spaces. Then, when he was finally ready, he walked along the heart of downtown Fairhope. He strolled down the street, his gaze flickering over the shop windows. An artsy place, one filled with galleries and pottery shops. Restaurants boasted organic food and fine Southern cuisine. Luxury, in a quiet setting. The cobblestone sidewalk beneath his feet appeared to have been recently swept, and, even though it was still February, bright flowers were already planted in the city.
One particular shop drew his eye. A gourmet food and wine establishment. He paused a moment, staring in the window, looking at the cute store clerk who stood just behind the counter. He needed Samantha to know that the hunt was on. He wanted her to understand that he was close. She’d been found.
So perhaps he should send her a