Cam stared at the computer screen, willing the damn thing to move faster. It seemed like forever since they’d both kissed Laura and let her leave with the sheriff. It had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, but she wouldn’t back down. She’d been adamant about getting this “interview” over with. Laura wasn’t one to procrastinate. She was a “rip the Band-Aid off” kind of girl.

The computer beeped quietly, the sound taunting to Cam’s ears.

“Hurry it up,” Rafe complained.

Rafe had his arms crossed over his chest as he stood behind Cam. Everything about his attitude spoke of his irritation. He’d already talked to Laura twice on the radio Nate Wright had given them.

Cam wanted to punch something. Rafe had been on his ass since the second Laura had driven away. Laura hadn’t wanted Rafe to leave him behind, so Rafe was waiting on him to get the files he needed. “I’m going as fast as I can. When was the last time you used dial-up? Seriously, if we’re staying in this town, we have to do something about the Internet access.”

Rafe stopped and sighed, a long, heavy sound. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I don’t like this. It feels wrong.”

Everything about it felt wrong. It was wrong that someone had been killed in this sleepy little town. It was wrong that Laura was having her life disrupted again.

He waved off the apology. It wasn’t needed. He knew why Rafe was edgy. “Did you pull Laura’s profile?”

Rafe went to the bed where his briefcase sat and drew out a fat file folder. “Yes. I’ve gone over it a thousand times. We know he’s an organized killer. He almost never does anything without careful planning. He’s disciplined and well educated.”

“He would have to be to have gotten into the FBI.”

Rafe was silent for a moment. “We have all kinds of measures in place to keep something like this from happening. Every agent has to go through testing.”

“All of which a highly-intelligent, highly-motivated person with a deep understanding of psychology could fake his way through.” Those tests weren’t infallible. Nor were the psychiatrists who administered them. “The screening process isn’t perfect. Nothing is.”

Rafe leafed through the documents. “This is interesting. She talks about how she thinks the killer will use the media. She labels him as intensely controlling and very interested in what she calls his ‘legacy.’ Sound familiar?”

“Given what we know now, yeah.” It was obvious that the Marquis de Sade had used Jana Evans, probably even telling her what to write, and when she had lost her usefulness, he’d killed her. “Do we know where her cameraman was at the time?”

Rafe had talked to Nate, too. “He was in the van. Apparently there weren’t any rooms left, and Jana wasn’t kind enough to let him stay with her. He was on the computer, video chatting with a couple of buddies. They had a satellite connection. Maybe we should break into the news van. Anyway, they have him down at the station giving a statement, but he didn’t hear anything.”

Another dead end. But maybe the cameraman knew something about Jana’s source.

The screen changed, and he was in. “Thank god.”

Rafe got behind him, blocking out the light from the window. “What can you tell?”

Impatient bastard. “Nothing yet. I just managed to get in the system. Let me copy the files onto a thumb drive, and we can head to the station. I don’t care what Nate says. I can go through what I found quietly while we watch Laura. I’m done hacking into the server, so the sheriff doesn’t have to worry about me getting him in serious trouble and bringing the feds down on the town. I don’t think we need more feds.”

It was funny how easily he’d slipped into the role of Bliss citizen.

“And you?” Rafe asked. “How much trouble could you get into?”

Cam shrugged. “All they’re going to know is the ID on this computer. I’ll dump it after I’m done. I’ll take it apart and toss out the parts. You think I haven’t done this before?”

He had. Many times. His fingers flew across the keys now that he’d been granted access. He’d been a snot-nosed, small-town hacker before the feds had swooped in to show him the error of his ways. He’d given it up for a long time, but in the last few years he’d taken it up again. Now he was damn happy he was up to speed. A nudge here, a nudge there, and he was in. The files started to download. The FBI kept copious files on their employees.

“I have the police report on Edward’s mother’s death.” He scanned the simple report. “It looks like Toyota versus eighteen-wheeler. The mom’s blood alcohol level was over the limit. Other than that, it’s kind of boring. He went to Harvard. Top of his class. He’s been a dedicated agent for years. Here’s the complaint Laura filed. Asshole. He made comments about women in the workplace and how a woman like Laura shouldn’t be taken seriously because she was looking for a husband and would leave the job when she had her first kid. I bet that went over like gangbusters with Laura. She left before the complaint could be resolved.” He read down the professor’s file until he came to the newest tidbit of information. “He recently moved. And listed his emergency contact as a man named Cecil Newberg.”

Rafe’s lips curled slightly. “Good for Edward. And we can eliminate him. He was out of town the night Laura was attacked. I had forgotten, but he left for a convention that night. At least two hundred law enforcement personnel attended a seminar he gave in Atlanta.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to believe that one of his coworkers was capable of this. If he could eliminate the members of his former team, he could move on. He closed the file on Edward and moved on to Brad. “Brad wasn’t in the BAU when Laura was attacked.”

Rafe stared over his shoulder, crowding him. There was only one desk in the motel room, and it was barely large enough to fit the laptop. “Don’t discount him. When he first became my partner, he walked in the door with a file on the Marquis de Sade. He said he was fascinated with the case. He requested the assignment.”

He pulled up everything he could on Brad Conrad. Star football player. High school valedictorian. On paper, Brad Conrad was the all-American hero. He’d given up his athletic dreams to pursue justice after his high school girlfriend was killed. He’d single-mindedly pursued a career with the FBI. And he’d fought to get on the BAU.

“He found the body,” Cam commented as he read through the information on the girlfriend’s death. The police report listed the case as open, but he knew what it really was—cold.

“Yes,” Rafe replied grimly. “He went to her place. Her parents weren’t home. He found her with her throat slit. He talks about it when he gets drunk. I think it’s why none of his marriages worked out. He can’t put another woman above her.”

“Doesn’t fit the MO.” The Marquis would never simply slit a throat. He liked to play with his victims. He spent hours and hours playing with them before he finally put them out of their misery.

“Could be the first one,” Rafe pointed out. “Serial killers perfect their techniques over long periods of time. MOs evolve. This murder could be the inciting incident. A crime of passion that led him to more calculated murders.”

Cam looked up at his partner. “You’ve worked close to this guy for the last couple of years.”

Rafe’s eyes tightened, the lines around them becoming more pronounced. “I wouldn’t say close. I worked with him. I had beers with him on Fridays. It wasn’t a close friendship.”

“Still. You’ve spent at least eight hours a day with the man for the last couple of years. Did he give you any indication that something was off?”

“He’s an agent. He works crappy hours for government pay in one of the most stressed-out units in the FBI. Does he have problems? Hell, yes.” Rafe ran a hand through his hair. “He drinks too much. He sleeps around. He’s got a bad temper.”

Well, he couldn’t blame the guy for that. He had a bad temper himself. This was going nowhere. He could bring up all kinds of stuff from their past, but it wasn’t hard evidence. Hell, he’d have taken a little soft evidence. But it looked like everyone had some dark secrets. “I don’t know what I thought I would find in here. I need a white board. We need to skip the profiling crap and figure out who was where on the nights of the murders.”

That was something he could use.

Rafe stepped back and started to pace around the small motel room they had checked in to but never used. While Cam had been hacking into systems, Rafe had packed up the few things they had left here on the morning they had checked in. They wouldn’t be coming back here. They would move into Laura’s cabin.

He thought of all the things he was going to have to do to make the cabin livable. Locks. Lots of locks. An alarm system. Motion detectors. He might have to buy a guard dog.

God, his heart felt like it would stop every time he thought about the fact that this guy was after his woman. Until he was caught, how was he supposed to think about anything else?

“When do you get your gun?” Rafe asked, pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

That was a good question. “As soon as the paperwork is done, but I bet I could convince the sheriff to give me one now. And there can’t be a shortage of shotguns around here. You don’t need a license to carry a shotgun in Colorado. Hell, up here I bet people expect you to carry.”

He would feel better once he had a gun in his hand. For now, Cam felt completely impotent. He couldn’t defend his woman. He couldn’t even figure out who he should defend her against. What use was he? The least he could do was hurry so she wasn’t alone. He trusted Nate. More importantly Laura trusted him, but he wouldn’t feel better until she was in his sight.

Cam looked down and made sure he had all the files he planned on taking. He could very cautiously review them at the police station. Maybe he could piece together some dates from the information. He would hole up in Nate’s office, and Rafe would make sure he wasn’t disturbed while he tried to put together what he needed.

The last file he was waiting on, a police report, finished downloading. On instinct, Cam opened it up to make sure he’d gotten it all. He flipped through the report to the pictures the police had filed. A woman lay on her back, her unseeing eyes face up to the camera. It wasn’t anything Cam hadn’t seen before, but something about her lips triggered his memory. That color, a shiny mauve. It stuck out like a sore thumb.

Laura’s words came back to haunt him.

He put lipstick on me. It was the weirdest thing. It was like he was making me up to be someone else.

It was the one thing the killer had left on all of his victims. A high-end lipstick called Purple Passion. The same lipstick on the woman in the photo. Cam had just found the Marquis de Sade’s first victim. The one the killer had never planned on sharing.

Rafe opened the door, letting the sunlight in. “Are you ready to go? It’s been an hour.”

Cam turned, his stomach in his throat. It was far worse than he’d ever expected. “I know who the Marquis de Sade is.”

 

* * * *

 

Laura forced herself to get out of Nate’s Bronco. All she could think about was the fact that Jana was dead, and there was no denying the truth. The Marquis de Sade was here in Bliss, and he was someone she knew.

Someone she knew had tortured her. He’d drugged her and tied her down and cut her. He’d terrified her and caused her more pain than she’d imagined she could survive.

He’d taken pieces of her.

“Laura?” Nate stood in front of her. He reached out a hand. “Stay close to me. I won’t let anything happen. I promise. Your men will be here before you know it.”

Her men. She liked the sound of that and the way Nate and the rest of the men had welcomed them. Rafe and Cam wouldn’t find it hard to fit in here.

She knew they would hurry. Rafe had sounded miserable when she’d talked to him earlier, but the truth was, she wanted that information. Anything Cam could pull out of the system, legal or illegal, would be welcomed. She wanted to sit down and build a profile. It was there. She knew it. It was all there in the background. Now that she had concrete suspects, all she had to do was fit the pieces of the puzzle together. The truth would be in their history, hidden in the small documents that made up a life.

She could catch him if she tried.

But first, she had to get through this.

“I’d like to see the letter he left for me.” She didn’t want to see it at all, but she had to. It could give her insight.

Nate nodded. “They have it inside. They brought the physical evidence here, but the body was taken to the morgue. I can probably get you in there if you want to witness the autopsy.”

She shook her head. Laura had attended many an autopsy, but never one on a person she’d known. She couldn’t imagine being forced to try to view Jana in clinical terms. Despite the trouble they had, they had been friends once. She couldn’t see Jana that way. This was precisely why cops didn’t investigate crimes against their families or loved ones. Joe should have taken Rafe and Cam off the case the minute he realized she was involved with them. “Just try to see if Caleb will get me a copy of his findings. I know it’s not protocol, but…”

“Since when do we stand on protocol? You’ll have a copy as soon as he’s done.” Nate settled his hat on his head and led her through the double doors.

The station was buzzing with activity.

“Sheriff.” Hope, Nate’s secretary, stood up and greeted him. She was in her twenties, but she dressed much older. Laura and Holly had talked about the admin’s odd wardrobe choices, wishing they could give the pretty woman a makeover to accentuate her assets. Today Hope wore a long, shapeless skirt and a button-down brown shirt. The ensemble made her look heavier than Laura thought she was. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, as it was every day. Her scrubbed-clean face was hidden behind large glasses. “Logan went back out. He said the special agent in charge came in and asked him to take extra evidence bags to the scene. They’re apparently trying to be very thorough.”

Then she and Nate were alone. She would have preferred to have Logan here as well. Two bodyguards were better than one. She took a deep breath. It was broad daylight. Nothing was going to happen to her in a police station.

Nate nodded at Hope. “I appreciate it. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Your wife came by.”

Nate’s face became thunderously fierce. “Callie left the cabin? She better have a damn good reason for leaving the cabin. I left explicit instructions that she was supposed to stay there with Zane.”

Laura half expected the little mouse to run away, but Hope merely frowned at her boss. Her eyes rolled slightly as though she was utterly used to her boss losing his temper. Maybe she wasn’t so shy. “Zane brought her in. They brought your lunch and a thermos of coffee. I believe they thought that since Stella’s was closed today, you might have a hard time finding something to eat. And not eating makes you crankier than normal. It’s sitting on your desk. Speaking of your office, I thought I should let you know that the feds took over yours while you were gone. The special agent in charge had a call with DC. I hope it was okay. He didn’t actually ask me. He told me he was going to do it.”

“It’s fine. Damn, I hope these guys are gone soon. I want my station back. It’s too loud. And I haven’t been fishing all week.” Nate growled a little and opened the door to his office. “Where are they now?”

“Special Agents Conrad and Lock are talking to the cameraman.” Hope motioned toward the back of the building where the small interview room was located. “It took them a while to get him to talk. He was trying to make a news story out of this.”

Nate grimaced. “Asshole. I hate reporters. You go on into the break room and grab a cup of coffee. Take fifteen or twenty minutes to yourself, Hope. But you make damn sure there are people around, you understand? I’ll answer the radio.”

Hope nodded gratefully and disappeared down the hallway.

Laura walked into Nate’s office and sat down. She thought about calling Rafe up on the radio but decided against it. She’d already talked to him, and she didn’t want to disrupt their work. The sooner they got done, the sooner they would come for her.

Nate took off his hat and sat behind his desk. There was a paper sack and a thermos sitting in the middle. It spoke of sweet domesticity. She would have to make sure Cam had lunch when he started coming to work.

The door opened again, and Brad Conrad stuck his head in. He was dressed in a perfectly pressed suit and tie. If he’d been in the field, he didn’t show it. Apparently Brad was one of those guys who didn’t get his hands dirty. He looked down at her. “You came in.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to run again.” Was he the one she was running from? She rather thought not. Unless he was a spectacular actor. He seemed too emotionally undisciplined. Though he had asked her very leading questions. He’d seemed to delight in her discomfort. “I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes,” Brad replied. “We’ll get to you soon enough. Don’t leave the station. I don’t want to have to track you down.”

Yeah, she kind of hoped it was that asshole.

“Hey,” Nate called out to the special agent. Brad turned, his face bunched in an impatient frown. “Could you show her the letter?”

“Sure. She should know what’s coming for her. It’s not much of a letter. It’s a whole bunch of quotes,” Brad explained.

She could guess who the bastard was quoting. “From the Marquis de Sade?”

“Dunno.” Brad held his hands up, impatience apparent in his stance. “Someone’s looking into it. It’s a bunch of crap about how morals are arbitrary and destruction is nature’s mandate. It’s all pretentious shit. I think this guy is stuck in a college phase.”

“Just get her the letter,” Nate said, his eyes narrowing on the special agent.

“I’ll see if Joe is still around. He’s been running all over today. It’s been hard to pin that man down. He has the letter.” Brad shut the door.

Nate sighed and sat back in his chair. There was a weariness to the sheriff’s eyes. How hard had this been on him? Callie was pregnant, less than a month away from giving birth to their first child. Nate should be at home getting ready for his kid and taking care of his wife, but he was dealing with feds and autopsies and playing her bodyguard.

“Nate, I’m so sorry about all of this.”

“What?” Nate asked, clearly surprised. “Don’t you apologize. This is none of your doing. This is my job. I might complain some. Fine, I might complain a lot, but I love this town, and I’ll protect every citizen with my life. Except Max. I’ll protect him with my toe or some limb I’m not real attached to.”

“Point taken.” She wasn’t alone.

Nate reached out and grabbed his thermos, opening it. Laura was immediately assaulted with the smell of coffee.

“You want some?” Nate asked. “I can get you a cup. If I know my wife, it’s some froufrou flavor. She never makes plain, ordinary coffee even now that she can’t drink it. Zane has gotten every bit as bad as Callie. He claims he needs to push the taste envelope because he’s a restaurant owner. It’s a bar. He makes wings and burgers, not high-end coffee. What the hell does he know? Bullshit, I say. Coffee is best when it tastes a little like overused motor oil.”

Laura leaned forward. “Do you drink a lot of overused motor oil, Sheriff?”

He smiled, his handsome face splitting. “Maybe not, but I like a masculine coffee.” He took a long drink and grimaced slightly. “Vanilla.”

“Then yes,” Laura replied. “I would love some. And I’m still hungry, so if you want to split that lunch of yours, I’ll take it. You closed down the only diner in town.”

Nate frowned. He opened the bag. “It’s a sandwich. I don’t know if that will feed me. Hope was right. I get cranky if I don’t have proper sustenance.”

“Fine. Hopefully there’s something in the break room.” Nate Wright was a greedy bastard. She obviously wasn’t going to get anything out of him. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom? I still feel grubby.”

He waved her toward the bathroom as he took a long drink of the coffee his wife had brought him. “Feel free. Apparently we have time. I tell you, I don’t like being on someone else’s timetable. I’m going to call over and see if Caleb’s gotten started.”

On the autopsy. She stood and tried to approximate a smile. “Okay. You do that. Rafe and Cam should be here soon.”

She turned and walked into Nate’s private bathroom. She closed the door behind her and took a long, deep breath. The events of the week crashed over her. She choked back tears. She couldn’t lose it now. Later, when Rafe and Cam were surrounding her, she could lose it, but now she had to keep her composure.

She walked to the window. Fresh air. Nate’s office had a window with a broken lock, allowing for the pane to open. Laura opened it and breathed in the cool air. Despite the fact that it was summer, the mornings were still cool. She let her head rest against the sill.

She had to find the strength to get through this. She wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t walking away this time. She wouldn’t leave her home. Never again.

She straightened up. As she went to close the window, she noticed a car in the alleyway. It was a big, black SUV. One of the feds. Damn it. Now they couldn’t be bothered to park in the lot?

Why wouldn’t they park in the lot? There was plenty of parking in the front and side of the building. The alley was narrow, and anyone who parked there would have to walk all the way around the building to get to the front. Not to mention if Nate saw it, he would ticket the person who parked there.

A cold chill went across her skin. It was illogical, unless the person didn’t want anyone to know the car was here.

“Nate,” Laura called out. She leaned over the sill, trying to see if she could get the plate number off the car. It was almost surely a rental, but at least they could tell who had rented it. “Nate, get in here. You need to see this.”

The door to the bathroom opened. Laura turned to give Nate a chance to look out the window.

Brad Conrad stood in the doorway. “You have to come with me.”

She shrank back. She couldn’t miss the look in Brad’s eyes or the gun he held. Primitive fear threatened to take over. She pushed it back and tried to figure a way out. If she tried to get out the window, he’d be on her before she could get through. She would fit through the window, but she’d land face first and have to scramble to get up. Then there was another problem.

“What did you do to Nate?” Nate Wright wouldn’t have allowed this asshole to walk in. Her stomach rolled. Please don’t let Nate be dead. He was so close to having his family with Callie and Zane. She couldn’t even think about it.

Brad frowned. “I didn’t do anything, but he’s out cold. Look, Laura, you’re coming with me. I’m sorry, but I can’t take no for an answer.”

He reached out to grab her, and she feinted to her left. She punched out with her right hand, catching him in the jaw. Brad groaned, and she pushed her way around him. He fell back, hitting his head hard against the sink. The sound thudded through the room, and she couldn’t miss the blood that started to pool around Brad’s head. She shoved her way out of the door and froze at the sight in front of her.

Joseph Stone slipped from the small closet behind Nate’s desk, a Taser in his hands.

And Laura realized she’d made a deadly mistake.