Chapter Eleven
He hit pay dirt at the second dive site. Josh saw the bag, a big, thick, black bag that had been weighed down and tossed into the water. It had sunk to the bottom, hit the sand and stayed trapped there.
It was a large bag—easily big enough to cover a body. And it was long—bulky with its contents.
He didn’t want a woman to be in that bag.
His team worked as bubbles drifted up from their tanks. They were trying to protect the evidence, not destroy anything. The bag was heavy—so heavy that a victim could be inside. His thoughts stayed dark as they worked.
He was too used to finding the dead.
It took time, but Josh and his crew got the bag back to the boat. Water streamed from it as they set the bag on the deck. Josh dropped his equipment. He stored his tank.
Then the team gathered around that bag.
Josh exhaled as he pulled out his dive knife. He cut through the hemp rope that bound the top of the bag, and the bag opened. He reached inside and—
His fingers touched something soft.
Damn it.
*
CASEY WAS WAITING at the station when Josh came back with his team. Her guards were with her—they’d stayed close all day long. And when she saw Josh’s team head to the back of the station, she knew something big had happened.
“Did they find another body?” Katrina whispered. “Is that what happened?”
There was only one way to find out. Other reporters were at the front of the station. She’d been staying out of their line of sight. She’d given a few other interviews during the day—enough to make most of those reporters happy, but she hadn’t wanted to tempt fate by staying right in the mix with them.
“Did someone die in your place?” Katrina asked.
And Casey was chilled to the bone.
*
KURT ANDERSON HADN’T been released from custody. He was still at the station, only now his lawyer, Sarah Hastings, was at his side.
“My client has been held here entirely too long,” she began as soon as Tucker and Josh stepped into the little conference room. The sheriff was already in there, his shoulders against the wall on the right. “He was brought in under a charge of boating under the influence but—”
“We found your bag,” Josh cut in.
The woman frowned. “Bag? What bag?” Then she waved a hand dismissively. “You have no idea that anything you may have found is linked to my client in any—”
Josh pulled out an evidence bag and placed it on the table right in front of Kurt. “Does that look familiar to you?”
Kurt’s shoulders hunched. A pink bear was in that plastic bag...a bear that was still soaking wet.
“Because we found that bear—and dolls and toys and clothes—at the bottom of the Gulf.”
Kurt reached for the bag, but Tucker scooped it up before he could touch it.
“You’re not supposed to have it,” Kurt whispered. “I was giving it back to her.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Do you know...he kept everything...?”
“Stop taking, Kurt,” his lawyer advised him sharply. “Stop.”
But he just shook his head. “Her room was like a shrine. Her books were on her desk, and her clothes still hung in her closet. Stuffed animals—the ones she’d had when she was four and five—they were still in her closet. He kept everything, like it all mattered. Like she mattered. When all that time, he’d been the one to kill her.”
Sarah shot to her feet. “All my client did was dispose of items that were no longer wanted at his home. So there could be an illegal dumping charge, but given the situation—”
“After his arrest, the cops and Feds took some stuff from Christy’s rooms, but I didn’t know what to do with the rest of her things. Christy always loved the water, so I took it all out there.” He was staring at his fisted hands. “I let it sink. I told her goodbye.”
Sarah’s hand curled around his shoulder. “You don’t need to answer any of their questions. They’re just trying to trip you up. They’re trying to pin murders on you, and you haven’t done anything wrong.” Her eyes glinted. “My client is grief stricken. He is trying to get through each day the best way that he can. So, yes, maybe he had too much to drink. That’s on him. But he hasn’t hurt anyone. He isn’t his father, and this interview? It’s over.” She nodded once, decisively. “So either charge my client with something other than boating under the influence—or this illegal dumping joke—or let him walk. Because I think he’s been through more than enough.”
They didn’t have any evidence to tie him to the murders. And the way the guy was shaking, the way he’d gone solid white when he saw that little stuffed animal, Josh wasn’t so sure that Kurt was the killer they were after.
Kurt’s father had killed his own daughter. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he wanted to destroy his son’s life, too. And a false allegation had been all it took to put Kurt under the microscope.
“He can go,” Hayden said. “But...don’t leave town, Kurt, okay? There will be more questions.”
Not that there could be more questions. Just that there will be more.
Sarah kept her arm around Kurt as they headed out of the room. She was whispering to him, her voice oddly soothing. Her pose with him was almost...intimate.
The door closed quietly behind them.
“I don’t want it to be him,” Hayden said quietly. He raked a hand over his face. “I knew him when we were kids. The things his father did...the things he tried to do to my Jill—I hate Theodore Anderson for that. But I don’t want Kurt to be like him.”
“Maybe he isn’t,” Tucker said. “But I still want to have eyes on him. Let’s keep a tail behind the guy just so we know his movements.”
Hayden nodded. “Already done. I gave the order right before I came in for this little sit-down.”
Josh paced around the room. “If it’s not Kurt Anderson, then we’re back to square one. We need to take another look at our perp...”
“Male, Caucasian, fit,” Tucker began as he ticked off the points they knew. “I’d say we’re looking for an individual between twenty-five and thirty-five. He knows the area, and he knows his victims. By picking individuals who are all survivors, he’s showing that he’s done research on them. They aren’t random. He’s proving a point—”
“That no one can survive what he’s done.”
Tucker nodded. “Exactly. When Casey escaped, I wondered if the killer would immediately get another victim. Or if—”
“If he’d come after Casey again.” Josh’s body had tensed.
“But he didn’t come after her,” Hayden said. “And he hasn’t taken anyone else, either.”
He hasn’t come after her yet. Josh wished Casey was still with him. He needed her close so that he could be sure she was safe.
He just... He wanted her close.
“Casey stabbed him,” Hayden continued, his brows pulling low. “Is it possible that she stabbed him so deeply that the guy is still recovering? Is that why we haven’t seen any action from him? Hell, maybe she even killed him.”
“Not enough blood at the scene for that.” Tucker had crossed his arms over his chest. “And I have the FBI techs doing a rush job on the blood we recovered from the knife she had. They’re comparing it to the blood we took from the knife we found on Kurt’s boat.”
“If it’s a match, we bring the guy right back in.” Josh knew those tests took time, but he wanted the results yesterday. “Another reason to keep a guard on him. Until we know for sure, one way or another about the blood, he stays at the top of our suspect list.” Josh considered what else they knew about the killer. “Our perp is organized. Meticulous. Such a careful planner. Maybe he is intending to go after Casey again, but he has to wait. He has to pick his moment.” Even as he spoke, his gut was clenching. “We had her in the penthouse, with top-of-the-line security. It could be that he just couldn’t get to her there.”
“She’s not at the penthouse any longer,” Hayden pointed out. His gaze was on Josh. “She’s out in the open. That producer of hers had Casey filming for most of the day. Everyone could see her.”
Josh’s jaw hardened.
“She had guards with her. One of them, I recognized. Drew Pitch. He’s an ex-Ranger. Hard-as-nails kind of guy. He’ll keep an eye on her.”
It wouldn’t be the same, though, with Josh not being near her. Not watching out for her himself. “I’m going to talk to her.” Just to make sure that nothing had happened that day that jarred her. Nothing that set off her suspicions. Letting her just walk away after what happened—yes, the FBI brass had said they couldn’t force her to stay in protective custody, but Josh couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just bait out in the open.
Tom Warren loved his flashy headlines. Would he use Casey, trying to attract a killer? To get the story of a lifetime?
Not on my watch.
*
“LOOK, THERE’S KURT ANDERSON!” Katrina called. “He’s walking out of the station—that means they didn’t have enough to charge him, right? I’ve got to get the footage.” She rushed across the street.
Other reporters and cameramen had already closed in. Casey didn’t move.
“Don’t you want the story?” Tom asked her as he slid closer. He’d been doing that all day—getting too close. Touching her shoulder. Her arm. Hovering. Pressing. Smothering.
“Anderson isn’t going to say anything right now. The woman with him—that’s Sarah Hastings. She’s his lawyer.” Because Casey had met the woman when she’d first talked to Kurt. Their meeting had been set up—and moderated—by Sarah. “She’s protective of him.” Maybe even in love with him, judging by the way Casey had seen the other woman stare at Kurt. “She won’t let anyone push her client right now.”
Tom moved in front of her, blocking her view of the crowd. “You’re coming back home with me.”
“Excuse me?” Her brows rose. Her guards were just a few feet away.
“I’ve rented a house on the beach—there are plenty of rooms. It has great security. The guards will be close in case you need anything. If the perp comes for you, we’ll all be ready.”
If the perp comes... There was just something about the way he said those words. “Do you want him to come?”
His lips parted. “What? No, Casey, I want you safe.” His hands curled around her shoulders. “You matter to me. Don’t you realize how much?” His voice softened. “Maybe I didn’t even realize how much, not until I heard that you’d been taken. Priorities—they have a way of becoming crystal clear in moments of danger. You think you have all the time in the world, and then—bam. You realize you could lose the thing that matters most.”
Oh, no. This wasn’t happening. “Tom...you’re my boss.”
“I could be more.”
I don’t want more. “I don’t cross that line. I won’t cross it.” She didn’t want him—had never been attracted to him that way. He could use his easy smiles on other women. They weren’t for her. He wasn’t for her.
She much preferred a man who moved with lethal grace, who gazed at her as if she were the only woman in any room. As if—
“Am I interrupting something?” Josh’s voice. Low, drawling.
Angry?
Tom jerked back and his hands fell away from her body as he looked back to find Josh behind him. “Agent Duvane! I just—I didn’t realize you were there.”
Casey hadn’t realized he was there, either. The guy was far too good at sneaking up on people.
“It’s getting late,” Josh said, inclining his head toward the setting sun. “Don’t you think Casey should be off the streets?”
“I was just about to take her home,” Tom replied stiffly. “But thanks for your concern, Agent—”
“An arrest hasn’t been made. Anderson left with his lawyer.”
“Yes.” Tom’s jaw was clenched. “We saw that.”
“The FBI still has the penthouse, Casey. Your guards—” Josh motioned to the men near her. “They can watch you during the day. But you’re welcome to continue staying at the safe house during the night. You know it’s a secure location.”
“She’s coming with—” Tom began.
“I want to go back to the crime scene,” Casey blurted.
Josh blinked. “What?”
“I didn’t get to go back this morning, like we planned.” She stepped closer to him, brushing past Tom. “We still have a little bit of daylight left. Will you take me back there now?” She’d remembered something at the hotel. Maybe she’d remember at the beach house, too. A tiny lead could make a big difference.
“Yeah, I’ll take you.” Josh’s hand reached out and curled around hers and his touch just felt right. Warm. Strong. Safe.
“Casey!” Tom blustered. “I don’t know—”
She turned her head to look at him and his words stopped. “You want the story, right? Agent Duvane can get me access to the crime scene. You can’t. I’m going back. I’m doing this my way.” Her gaze slid to the two guards. “Drew and Shamus, thank you for your help today. I won’t be needing your services for the night, though. The night is covered.” She wasn’t staying at Tom’s place. She was staying at the penthouse.
With Josh.
Tom’s eyes narrowed. “That’s your choice.”
“Yes, it is. And we’d better hurry before that sun is gone.” She didn’t want to be at the scene after dusk.
She followed Josh back to the parking lot behind the station. Katrina saw her, frowned, but didn’t speak. A few moments later, Josh was handing her a helmet.
Back to the motorcycle?
She didn’t protest this time. Casey put the helmet on her head. She slid onto the bike behind Josh and she held on tight.
He revved the engine, but he didn’t pull away. His body was tense, his muscles hard, and she heard him say, “I missed you today.”
Casey smiled. In the midst of everything bad happening, he’d just made her feel good. “I missed you, too.” She didn’t know what that meant—for their future. For them. But...
It meant something.
The motorcycle roared away.
*
“SO...” DREW SAID as he raised his brows. “That mean we’re done for the night?”
Tom had his hands on his hips as he stared after the motorcycle. “Yes, you’re done. Both of you.” Because he wouldn’t be needing their services.
Shamus slapped his hand on Drew’s shoulders. “Let’s go get a drink, buddy.”
Drew hesitated a moment, his gaze on Tom’s face. “You sure she’s good?”
“She’s with an FBI agent,” Katrina announced as she strode toward them. “How much better can she get?”
Drew nodded and headed off with Shamus. Tom kept staring after the motorcycle.
“Tom?” Katrina prodded. “You okay?”
“This is my story.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Casey doesn’t get that.” He shook his head. “Why doesn’t she get that?”
Katrina didn’t speak.
“I’m getting a drink.” Then Tom stormed off down the street. He left Katrina behind him, standing alone.
*
CHAZ FONTEL CHECKED the lines on his boats. It was quitting time, and he wanted to make sure he stepped in early at the local bar. He’d been interviewed by Casey Quinn—and at least four other reporters that day. He needed to tell his friends about those reporters.
He also wanted to make sure he warned people to stay away from Kurt Anderson. The guy was trouble.
Chaz turned around. And he had to do a quick double take when he saw someone standing less than five feet away. “Jesus!” He put his hand to his heart. “Didn’t even see you there!” He laughed. “Look, this town is jumpy enough as it is. You can’t go sneaking up on people.” He approached his visitor. “You here to rent another boat? Because I was shutting down early today. I’m not going to do the night rentals for a while. I get that it’s a good way to blow off steam, but in light of everything that’s been happening, I just think a break is needed.” He walked past the customer and moved toward his office. “Sorry, but I can’t—”
The blow struck him in the back of the head. Hard and brutal, swinging down at him and sending him crashing onto the wooden dock. Then he was being kicked, again and again, and he rolled, trying to protect himself. He rolled—
And crashed right into the water. He tried to kick up, breaking through the surface, but—
As soon as his head cleared the water, he was hit. Something hard and wooden slammed into his head. An oar?
He went back down.
This time, he couldn’t kick up.
*
JOSH BRAKED THE motorcycle just beyond the line of yellow police tape. The setting sun had turned the sky a dark red. The waves were crashing nearby.
Casey was still behind him, her hands wrapped tightly around his waist. It was so odd, but the woman just seemed to fit him. Inside and out. He kicked down the stand, and she slid back. He immediately missed her warmth.
He missed her.
“I thought it wouldn’t seem as scary, coming here with you. But...it still does.” She rubbed her upper arms, as if chilled in the summer air. “Let’s go inside, okay? Waiting just makes me more nervous.”
He caught her hand. Josh threaded his fingers with hers. Then he hurried forward. His shoes sank into the sand and he bent, sliding beneath the line of yellow police tape. The wind blew against them, flattening their clothes and tossing their hair. The house was built up on stilts, protecting it from the storm surge that could come if a hurricane ever turned toward Hope. They climbed those wooden steps slowly that led up to the structure. A temporary construction door was in place over the main entrance, a door that didn’t have a lock. He pushed it open, and even though there was still muted light coming into the cabin, Josh pulled out his flashlight.
“Let’s go up to the next level,” Casey said. “Because the only thing I remember down here...is seeing you.”
They started walking. Her phone rang. The cry was loud and peeling and she jumped. Casey fumbled and pulled out her phone. “Tom.” His name was a sigh. “Give me just a second, okay?”
Josh waited. His light swung around the cabin. Construction had halted after the discovery that the place had been a crime scene. Would the builders eventually finish? Or would they rip the place down? Josh didn’t exactly see anyone wanting to live in a serial killer’s old lair.
Casey put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Tom...No, no, we’re not at the penthouse yet. I told you that I wanted to stop by the crime scene...I’m fine...No, Tom, I don’t need you. And if I remember anything else, I’m telling the FBI first, not you.” Her voice was brisk. “Good night.” She shoved the phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
Josh raised a brow. “Trouble?”
“He’s becoming so, yes. My attack has...apparently changed things for him.” She edged closer to him. Their fingers brushed. “He’s feeling protective, he says. Clingy, I say.”
“He cares about you.” That knowledge shouldn’t have made him angry, but it did.
“He likes conquests. I’ve seen it before. For some reason, he’s decided that he needs me now. He was saying that he didn’t even realize how he felt, not until he’d heard that I’d been taken.”
Josh didn’t move. “And how do you feel?”
Her head tipped back. “I feel like I’m staring at the man I want.”
He wanted to kiss her. Right there, in that godforsaken place. But...
Hold the thought. Do the search. Get her to safety.
He turned away. Shined the light at the stairs and then—
He swung right back toward her. His hand slid under her chin, he tipped her head back a bit more and he kissed her. Deep, quick, hard.
Enough to savor. Enough to tease.
“Josh?”
He stared into her eyes. “Just so you know, I’m staring at the woman I want.” She didn’t play games. He wouldn’t, either. Then, taking her hand, they went up the stairs. He made sure to go first, a habit from the FBI and his SEAL days. If there was any threat there, he’d be facing it first.
At the top of the stairs, he turned into the first room on the left—it was the most finished room. The others still sported barely framed walls.
The room on the left—that had been the room she’d been held inside. The rope was gone. Sawdust was still on the ground, mixed with discarded pieces of wood.
Plastic had been put over one of the window spaces, but it flapped in the wind.
Casey slid past him. Her hand broke from his. “I woke up right there.” She pointed to the floor. “He had to be strong, huh? To carry me up the stairs while I was out cold.” She shivered. “He could have done anything to me then, and I wouldn’t have known. I—” She shook her head. Straightened her shoulders. “I woke up right there,” she said again, her voice stronger. “And I was alone in here. I screamed for help...”
But no help had come. Only the perp had come to her.
“I can smell the ocean,” she whispered. Her eyes closed. “When he came in... I—I don’t think I smelled the oil any longer. That means—he cleaned up, right? He must have cleaned up somewhere and then he came to me. He had his knife. He had the phone. He called the sheriff and—” Casey shook her head. “I’m not getting anything new. It’s not working this time.”
He wanted to pull her into his arms. But she was pacing, her movements tight and worried, and he held himself still.
She headed toward the window—not the one that overlooked the ocean, but the one that focused back toward the city. She stared out. “He must’ve had a car stashed somewhere, right? I mean, for him to get away so quickly. After I stabbed him, he hit me again.” Her hand rose to feather over her cheek. “I fell back for a minute and he ran out. I was afraid to follow him at first. Afraid to move at all, and that was time that I wasted. Time that let him get away.” She looked back at him. “So I know that if he does kill someone else, that’s on me. I should have chased him. I should have stopped him. I—”
Josh had gone to her, helpless to stop himself. His hands closed around her shoulders. “You should have survived. That’s the only thing you needed to do.” He turned her to face him fully. “You fought him off. You gave Hayden your location. The perp probably did have a ride stashed somewhere nearby—and he knows the area. He was able to vanish fast because—”
But his words stopped. He’d just...seen someone below. Hadn’t he? It had been a quick flash of movement. Like a shadow rushing away from—his bike?
“Josh?”
He eased her to the side even as he pulled out his weapon. His gaze had narrowed as he fought to search through the growing darkness below. Yes, yes, someone was there. And—
He heard another motorcycle growl.
That was how he’d gotten away so fast. Since coming to Hope, Josh had realized there were quite a few people in the town who liked to use motorcycles and scooters—the smaller vehicles enabled them to access all of the trails that were scattered around Hope.
“He came back, too,” Josh muttered. Because the perp had left something behind? Or because he just couldn’t stay away from the scene of his kills? Josh whirled away from the window. “He’s down there.” And he was getting away.
No, that couldn’t happen. Josh and Casey raced down the stairs. He shoved past that wooden front door and erupted into the darkness. He kept one hand wrapped around Casey’s wrist and his other had his gun.
“I thought it was you,” Casey said, her words tumbling out. “I heard the motorcycle that morning—but you were rushing into the cabin when I came down the stairs. That noise—I thought it was you.”
The perp had been clever. He’d used the sound of Josh’s bike to mask his own departure.
Josh jumped onto his motorcycle and holstered his weapon. Casey grabbed her helmet, then she was holding him tight. He kicked up the stand and had the engine roaring to life. He took off, spraying up sand in his wake. He could see the other motorcycle up ahead. The driver was wearing a dark helmet, completely shielding his head. The driver was driving fast as hell as he turned on a sharp curve that led away from the beach.
“Hold on,” Josh snapped. He braked a bit, trying to slow before the curve—
Something is wrong. The bike slowed, just a bit, but the control was off. There was a long, loud grinding noise that came from the motorcycle. What in the hell?
“Casey—”
The other driver had stopped. In the next moment, the fellow turned his motorcycle around, revved his engine and then took off, heading straight for Josh and Casey.
“Is he playing chicken?” she yelled. “What is he doing?”
He was coming right at them, and Josh’s bike was out of control. He couldn’t brake, and he smelled the bitter odor of oil.
Casey smelled oil in her hotel room.
The guy was almost on them. “Casey, you’ll need to jump.”
“What?”
He tried to steer toward the side of the road, but the motorcycle just gave another horrible groan of metal. The other driver was closing in. The SOB slammed the front of his motorcycle into Josh’s bike. Josh and Casey went swerving. Their motorcycle hurtled across the road as sparks flew from the tires and spokes.
They were crashing, hitting too hard. Josh spun back and grabbed Casey, trying to get her off that bike and to safety.
But then he wrecked. The motorcycle didn’t hit the soft sand dune he’d been aiming for, but it slammed into the hard base of a tree. The metal didn’t just groan then. It screamed as both he and Casey went flying.