Chapter Three
He drove for miles, just riding the motorcycle and letting the wind brush across his face. In his head, he kept reliving the day’s dive. Sinking deep beneath the water, searching even as he hoped that he wouldn’t find the body. He’d hoped that the victim was still alive. That she still had a chance.
Then he’d seen her hair. That was the way it often was on those dives. If he was searching for a woman, her hair would float up from her head. It would drift in the water around her, as if it were trying to reach out for the surface.
He’d seen Tonya’s hair, then he’d seen her face. Not the pretty face from her picture—chalk white, bloated.
Dead.
He turned off his engine and sat near the edge of the beach, almost surprised to find himself so close to Casey’s hotel. He hadn’t meant to come back there, had he?
Casey Quinn.
He’d seen her news stories before, most folks had. She didn’t work for some local channel—Casey was the big time. Prime-time TV on a major network. When he’d done some digging on her, he’d realized her pieces were always dark, focusing on the worst criminals out there. Not scare pieces, though, but reports that showed the broken lives that had been left in a monster’s wake.
He knew she’d come down to Hope to cover Theodore Anderson’s case—the sick freak had enjoyed kidnapping girls. Kidnapping them and killing them. He’d even killed his own daughter. Casey and the other reporters had been trying to interview both Theodore Anderson and the guy’s son, Kurt. But Kurt hadn’t talked to any reporters. Not yet. Josh was a bit surprised that Casey’s charm hadn’t worked on the guy. Her smile—yeah, he could see where she’d be able to get men to talk to her. That slow smile was pure sex appeal, and it did something to her eyes—made those dark chocolate eyes gleam. No wonder young Finn had overshared, but the deputy knew better now. Josh and Hayden had made certain the kid knew better.
He turned away from the beach and glanced up at her hotel. He’d touched her cheek and her skin had been like silk beneath his hand. She’d stood there, in those incredibly sexy heels, her skin a warm gold next to the white of her shirt, and that dark hair of hers had skimmed over her shoulders. She was small, built along delicate lines, but sure curved in every perfect place. When she’d been behind him on the bike—
Stop lusting, turn on the motorcycle and get out of here.
He wasn’t going to cross any lines with the reporter. A sexy face and body weren’t going to make him forget his job. He wasn’t young Finn.
He rolled back his shoulders.
Get out of here.
But he couldn’t help glancing at the hotel just one more time.
*
SHE HURT.
Casey groaned as she cracked open one eyelid. Her whole body ached and she was lying on something rough and hard. The hotel bed was normally soft, like falling into a cloud after a long day of work, but this—
I’m not at the hotel.
Both of her eyes flew open. She stared around, horrified. She wasn’t in her hotel. She was... Where in the hell was she? She tried to move her body and realized that her hands and feet were tied. Her hands were behind her back and she could feel what felt like rough hemp rope cutting into her wrists. She twisted and her body slid over...over plastic?
Yes, she was on a big sheet of plastic. The smell of fresh wood filled the air, and her frantic glance took in the room around her. She was in a home...of some sort. One that appeared to be under construction. No Sheetrock was up on the walls yet. She could see the wooden framework all around her.
And I’m on plastic. Oh, God. Because she knew why an abductor would put his prey on plastic. So there won’t be a mess left behind when he’s done with me.
She wiggled and twisted and finally managed to sit up. When she did, she realized that light was pouring in through one of the windows to the right. Light, and she could also hear the thunder of waves. I’m on the beach. In a house under construction. A house or some kind of condo complex or...
No, it’s a beach house. Because she remembered seeing about four houses that had been under construction on the west end of the beach. They’d been big, massive structures up on wooden stilts that screamed high-end real estate. But, if the place was under construction, where were the construction workers? Where was the crew? Where was someone who could—“Help!” Casey called out. Her voice was oddly weak, so she tried again, screaming, “Help!” with all of her strength.
She fought to remember what had happened to her. She’d been in her hotel room and then...someone had been there. He’d grabbed her. Rammed her head into the wall—jabbed her? Injected her with something? And she’d fallen. Everything had gone dark. But she thought that she remembered him...laughing.
The waves kept thundering. Her gaze narrowed on the window. There was only a little light coming in. Maybe dawn hadn’t fully arrived yet. Since it wasn’t dawn, that meant the work crew wouldn’t be coming for a while and—
It’s Sunday. Her eyes squeezed closed. No, the work crew wouldn’t be arriving anytime soon.
She jerked and twisted her way across the room. The plastic slid beneath her, bunching up, and she tried not to think about it—or about the man who’d taken her. The man who could appear any moment. The man who—
“I heard you screaming, Casey Quinn.”
She froze. Casey didn’t want to look over her shoulder. He was back there. If she looked at him, if she saw his face—
“Guess your screams mean...it’s time to get started.”
And she had to look back. Her head jerked toward him. He stood in the framed doorway. Dressed head to toe in black—complete with a black ski mask that covered his face. She couldn’t even see his eyes because there was some kind of weird mesh over them. “Stay away from me,” she ordered, hating that her voice shook.
He laughed—the laugh that she remembered—and he pulled out a knife.
The plastic beneath me...it’s to catch all of the blood.
“Can’t stay away,” he told her. “I have work to do.”
“Y-you’re going to stab me...five times?” Because that was what he did. With all of his victims, he stabbed them. And then he slit their throats and dumped the bodies in the ocean.
I fit his profile. Josh even said... No, no, this couldn’t happen!
He came toward her, moving slowly. He bent and brought the knife toward her. She heaved and strained against the ropes, but they wouldn’t give. He put the knife to her cheek. Pressed just enough that a drop of blood slid down her face. “Don’t rush me,” he murmured. “I’ve been waiting for this moment a long time.”
What?
“You and I are going to talk. You’re going to tell me all of your secrets.”
No, she wasn’t.
“Or I will cut you open.”
He lifted the blade away from her face—the moment she’d been waiting for. He was crouched close to her—his mistake. He thought that just because she was tied up, she was helpless.
He was wrong.
She lifted her feet—wish I still had on my heels, those spikes would have come in handy—and she slammed them right into his crotch, as hard as she could. He gave a grunt and staggered back. The knife fell from his fingers. She grabbed it, rolling and slamming her body harder into the plastic. The blade cut her fingers, but she didn’t care. She started sawing at the ropes that bound her wrists together and—
He drove his fist into her cheek, so hard that she saw stars. The knife fell from her fingers as her head slammed back and hit the plastic—and the hard wood beneath it.
He swore and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her toward him. As he hauled her up, her hands fumbled across the floor and something sliced into her pinky finger...something sharp and narrow.
A nail. A nail was sticking up through the wood.
“Don’t go passing out on me. We have to make a phone call. That’s step one for us. Got to let folks know who has the power here.”
She kept her hands near that nail and started to slide the rope against it. Was it making a grinding noise as she sawed? Could he hear her? The knife’s blade had almost cut all the way through the rope, and if the nail could just finish the job, then she’d have a chance.
He left her there, sagging on the floor, her hands behind her and working slowly with that nail as he yanked a phone out of his back pocket. Her gaze darted to his hands. He was wearing gloves, but she could see a little bit of tanned skin where the gloves ended near his wrists. The guy was Caucasian, a little over six feet, probably close to one hundred and eighty pounds, and he—
“I’ve got someone new,” he rasped into the phone. “Pretty soon, Sheriff Black, it will be time for you to find her.”
He’d called the sheriff. Did he always do that? Always call while the victim was still alive? The authorities hadn’t revealed that detail to the press, and if this was part of the guy’s MO, then no wonder Hayden Black had looked increasingly worn. He’d been fighting to find the victims alive, but he kept turning up dead bodies.
His finger slid over the phone—she realized he must be wearing those smart gloves that allowed him to still work a phone screen—and she heard Hayden’s voice fill the room.
“Give me proof of life,” Hayden barked.
Her abductor laughed. She tensed and almost stopped cutting on that nail. Almost. She knew his laughter wasn’t a good sign. Hayden wanted proof of life, so that probably meant the jerk in the ski mask was about to make her scream. He was going to hurt her again—
“It’s Casey Quinn!” she screamed. “He’s got me in one of the houses under construction on the west end—help—”
Her abductor threw the phone down and slapped his hand over her mouth. What? Had he believed she didn’t realize where she was? When she’d arrived in Hope, she’d made a point of checking out the entire town. A good reporter learned her territory.
She glared up at him.
“Think you’re clever?”
She thought she had a chance. Hayden would come racing to the scene. And maybe...maybe he’d get there fast enough to save her.
“Your mistake. You’re just dead.”
No, she wasn’t. Not yet. Did he think she was too afraid to fight back?
She felt the ropes give way around her wrists. Her hands were free. Now she needed to get rid of the ropes around her ankles. She stared up at him, just seeing the mesh over his eyes. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest.
His hand slowly fell from her mouth.
“You should run,” she whispered. “The sheriff will be here soon.”
“I’m not going anywhere...” He turned away from her. Bent and picked up his phone. She could see the smashed screen. “Not yet.” His back was to her.
The knife was on the floor. He hadn’t picked it up after he’d punched her. Her hand flew out and grabbed it and she immediately tucked it behind her body, resuming her position as he turned back toward her so it would appear as if her hands were still bound behind her.
“I’ve waited too long to get you, Casey.” His voice was rougher and his tone was almost intimate. “It won’t end like this.”
It’s not going to end at all. She hadn’t fought her way back from the darkness before to die this way.
He rolled back his shoulders and he moved a few feet away, his head tilted toward the floor. He lifted up a piece of plastic. What are you looking for? The knife? Did you just realize it’s gone?
His head swiveled back toward her.
She lifted her chin.
He smiled. “Give it to me.” He took a step toward her.
Since he asked...
He grabbed for her arm.
She stabbed him.
*
THE SOB HAD taken Casey.
Fear was a cold knot in Josh’s stomach. Hayden had called him and told him the news, and he’d driven fast as hell to get to the line of houses under construction on the west end of the beach. The motorcycle howled as he raced down the road. He was ahead of the sheriff and his deputies—he’d been closer to the scene. And he was breaking every traffic law out there as he cut across roads and ran through lights to get to Casey.
I shouldn’t have left her. He could still see her, standing in front of the hotel, wearing those high heels as her dark hair tossed around her cheeks. He’d even told her that he’d wanted her to be safe because that perp was still out there. The guy was hunting women like her.
He’d been hunting her.
Josh spun around a tight corner and saw the row of partially built houses up ahead. Which house was she in? He barely braked his bike—just jumped off the motorcycle and ran for the first house. “Casey!” Josh roared her name. He yanked his gun from the holster. “Casey, where are you?” Be alive. Be alive, Casey. Answer me!
Because in his mind, he still saw Tonya Myers. She was in the water and her dark hair drifted up around her face. That can’t happen to Casey.
He rushed through the first house, shoving plastic out of his way. Construction debris was everywhere, but the rooms were empty. No sign of Casey.
Josh ran back outside. The light from dawn swept out over the water. “Casey!”
How long had it been since the perp had called Hayden? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Twenty?
It only took a moment to die. One moment.
He rushed toward the second house.
“H-help...”
He froze. That call—it had come from the house before him. A temporary door was in place, one without a doorknob, and he just kicked that damn thing in. “Casey!” His bellow seemed to echo around him.
And then he saw her.
She was holding on to the makeshift banister that had been put in place on the stairs. She was trying to come down to him. A red imprint marked the left side of her beautiful face. There was blood on her cheek. She was too pale and she was shaking and—
He bounded toward her.
Her eyes widened when she saw him. She lifted her hand toward him, and he saw that she was gripping a blood-covered knife.
“J-Josh?”
“You’re safe.” He wanted to scoop her into his arms. Wanted to hold her tight and make sure she was okay. “Where is he?”
She blinked. She looked lost. Scared. And...
Hurt. He hurt her.
Josh wanted to kill the guy.
“I—I don’t know.” She looked around, her hand shaking but not letting go of that knife. “He... I stabbed him and he ran out of the room. He...left me.”
Grim pride swelled inside of him.
“Get me out of here,” she whispered. A tear leaked down her cheek. “It’s too much...like before. Get me out.”
He didn’t know what she was talking about, but he had to touch her. Josh curled his left arm around her as he pulled her against his body. She didn’t let go of the knife. He kept a solid grip on his gun. If the perp had run from the room on the upper floor, he could still be hiding in that house. Josh wanted to search every inch of the place, but getting Casey to safety was his priority.
She felt so delicate against him. And each time her body trembled, the rage he felt grew.
I will find you, you bastard. I will make you pay.
He led her past the broken front door and outside. He didn’t stop walking, not until they were near his motorcycle. Then he slid his hand under her chin. “Where are you hurt?” His voice was a rough growl. Her cheek was already darkening, the pink giving way to a bruise.
“I’m...okay.” Her eyes said the words were a lie. Her head turned, and she looked around the scene. Her voice became a whisper as she said, “Where did he go?”
Josh intended to find out.
Before he could speak, he heard the approaching wail of a siren. The local sheriff and his deputies—about time. They’d search every inch of those houses. They’d find that perp.
He started to step away from Casey but her hand grabbed his wrist. Her fingers curled around him, holding tight. “He’s going to kill me.”
The hell he will.
“He said...he won’t stop. He will kill me.”
The siren was louder. Closer.
Another tear slid down her cheek. “He said he’d been waiting for me...that the waiting was over.”
His body brushed against hers. “He’s not going to ever touch you again.” Josh intended to make sure of that. “You’re safe.”
But she shook her head, and Josh knew that she didn’t believe him.
The sheriff’s patrol car whipped around the corner. The lights flashed from the top of the car.
Casey’s hold tightened on Josh even more.
“You’re safe,” he said again, but Josh didn’t think she believed him.