Sean sat down at Jessica Daly’s desk and shuffled through the piles of paperwork with gloved hands. Beside him, a computer forensics tech was packing up the reporter’s hard drive to take back to the BCI office to look for evidence. Another tech had already picked the lock on a cabinet in the reporter’s cubicle and had begun loading files into a cardboard evidence box. The sheriff’s judicial contact had come through and issued the search warrant before the name of the killer’s latest victim had leaked out. Daly’s bosses weren’t happy—seemingly less so about their employee’s death than the fact the police were confiscating everything that might be relevant to solving her murder. Three men were glaring daggers at him from across the huge newsroom filled with cubicles where they’d been herded out of the way by a uniformed deputy.

While the Malone brothers were at Daly’s office, Lynch and Rafe had headed to her condo to execute a search there. Sheriff Griffin was currently at the ME’s office. They all hoped that since the killer had deviated from his usual victim he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.

Brian approached carrying several evidence boxes. Whether the newspaper liked it or not, everything in and on Daly’s desk and file cabinets was coming with them.

Tugging on the top, kneehole drawer of the desk, Sean found it locked. “Anyone have a spare key?” he asked the men standing with the deputy.

When they stated they didn’t, Brian handed him a lock pick set that had been in the inside pocket of his sports coat. Sean raised an eyebrow at him, and his brother shrugged. “Haven’t met a reporter yet that doesn’t keep their contacts under lock and key.”

It had been a while since Sean had picked a lock, but this one was easy, and he had it open in under a minute. Pulling open the drawer, he saw the usual pens, paperclips, and other paraphernalia. Further back was a small stack of mail. Picking the stack up, he shuffled through the envelopes, pulling out the contents of each, trying to find a clue on how Daly had become the killer’s latest victim. It wasn’t until he reached the second to last envelope that he got excited. “Brian, look at this.”

His brother whistled as he read the newspaper lettering pasted onto the plain, white printer paper. “Sounds like we might have finally found a kill scene.”

Sean grabbed one of the clear, empty, evidence bags and placed the note and envelope inside it. He quickly jotted down the date, time, and location the letter had been found on the outside sticker of the bag. Standing, he gave instructions to the techs and deputy to finish packing everything up, then headed for the door with Brian on his heels, ignoring the multitude of questions thrown at them from Daly’s bosses.

Twenty minutes later, they were in Sean’s vehicle, on an industrial driveway, which was in desperate need of repair, and he grimaced every time he hit a pothole in his Mustang. Next time we’re taking Brian’s truck, damn it! The drive took them about three-quarters of a mile through a thick grove of trees and shrubbery before opening up to a large expanse of property.

“Fuck!” Brian barked, and his brother’s stomach plummeted at the sight that greeted them. There were over a dozen fire trucks, an ambulance, and three patrol cars already on scene. Whatever the factory had looked like a few hours ago was long gone. In its place was little more than a huge pile of charred and smoldering ruins.

Just as they were about to pass a rotting sign with the former cigarette company’s name on it, Sean slammed on the brakes which earned a “what the fuck?” from Brian.

“Look.” He pointed at the sign that was on the passenger side of the road. There was an 8″ x 10″, brown, mailing envelope attached to it with “Federal and Local Pigs” on it, spelled out in large, cutout letters. Everyone else had probably been focused on the fire and missed it when they arrived.

Climbing out of the passenger seat, Brian pulled out his cell phone and took a few pictures of the sign for evidence, then donned a pair of disposable, latex gloves he always carried in his sports coat. He retrieved the envelope and the two thumbtacks holding it to the sign and returned to the vehicle. Sean grabbed a clean evidence bag from his glove compartment and held it open for his brother to drop the tacks into. Not that they expected to learn anything from them, but you never knew when something would break a case wide open.

Brian then lifted the unglued flap of the envelope and slid out the contents. It was a piece of white printer paper similar to what had been used for the note they’d found in the reporter’s desk. This one also had cutout, newspaper letters used to spell out the message.

I took care of the bitch reporter. Now back to the sluts. Someone has to rid them from society. S.S.

Flipping it over, the state trooper saw it was blank and sighed. “That’s it? Well, the ME was right—Daly must have pissed in his cereal. ‘S.S.,’ I assume, is for Seaside Strangler. At least we know he likes the moniker Daly gave him. Let’s go talk to the fire chief, although I doubt there’s any evidence left.”

Unfortunately, Brian was right. While there were sections of the huge building that hadn’t been completely burned to the ground, there were no signs of a murder scene in them. An accelerant had been used, and the fire had been burning for a while, starting in the early morning hours, before someone had reported the smell of smoke two miles away. It had taken some time before the source had been discovered as the sunrise finally made it possible to see the black and grey smoke rising from the building.

It was an hour after they’d arrived that Brian and Sean left the scene in the hands of the Arson and Crime Scene techs to sift through the debris for any evidence that might have miraculously survived the flames. And once again, they were back to square one.

* * *

While her new employee, Tim, ran an ultrasound wand over a patient’s knee, Grace laid a moist heat wrap on another patient’s shoulder before jotting down progress notes in their respective files. The small-business gods were smiling down on her. She had feared it would be weeks before they had more than ten patients, but Pro-Care had been open for over a week and they already had over a dozen referrals from local doctors. At this rate, they would be running at near full capacity in no time, and hopefully within six months she’d be looking to hire a third therapist.

Up front, the new receptionist, Dana, greeted someone who had walked in the front door, but when Grace heard Sean’s voice, she peered around the half-wall. It was still before noon and she hadn’t expected to see him until later. “Hey, come on back.”

Her heart began to pound as he strode into the large room. They had spent almost every night together since their first, official date and each time she fell asleep in his arms she’d fallen more in love with him. Sean Malone was everything she remembered and more. He was strong, yet tender. Smart, yet funny. Companionable, yet dominant. And sexy as all fucking sin. When they were in the same room together, the attraction between them seared the air. And between the sheets, it exploded. Yes, some might say it was fast, but in reality, they were old friends who had reunited—they had a past, as innocent as it had been. Now, she was looking forward to a future with him.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when he leaned down to give her a quick kiss hello, mindful of being in her place of business. She knew he was stressed with the murder case he was working on, and yesterday’s discovery of another victim hadn’t helped. This one had disappeared after leaving her job as a waitress in one of the local strip clubs two nights ago. Her body had been found near a dog park. Sean had spared her the details, but from what Grace had heard on the news, and the haunted look in his eyes, she knew it was worse than she could imagine.

He kept his voice low so as not to be overheard. “Hi. Just had to get out of headquarters for a bit. My car kind of steered itself over here. Must have known how much I needed to see your pretty face.”

Her giggle seemed to relax him some. “Remind me to treat it to a premium oil change next time it’s due.”

“I’m sure my car will appreciate it.” He leaned against the therapy table she’d been using while updating the files. “I spoke to Suki earlier—she said to say hello.”

“Did she have any new insight for you?”

Sean shook his head. “Other than she thinks he’s going to continue shortening his time between kills, no. We have another press conference this afternoon. I swear since the reporter was killed, every major news channel from around the country has shown up. My office sent over two more agents and the troopers have added a few more detectives. We’ve got hundreds of tips coming into the hotline, but aside from a handful of potential leads, they haven’t been worth squat.” He sighed heavily. “Then again, none of the potential leads panned out either.”

Grace laid her hand on his forearm. “You’ll catch him. I have faith in you.”

“I just hope it’s sooner, rather than later. And now to top everything else off, we have the politicians on our asses to solve this. As if we’ve been sitting around playing solitaire, or something, on our computers all day.” He shifted his arm so her hand slid into his. “Anyway, enough about that. How’s business going?”

“Great. We had two more referrals today.”

Tim must have caught his eye because Sean raised his hand in a brief greeting over Grace’s shoulder, before returning his attention to her. “That’s fantastic. I think you’ll do well here.” His hand went to one of her blonde curls and gave it a gentle tug. “Sweet and spicy . . . gorgeous and intelligent. It’s a hell of a combination.”

She gave him a suggestive grin and murmured, “You’re just saying that to get in my bed again tonight.”

The response she got was exactly what she was hoping for. His eyes brightened as they flashed to her breasts and back up to her face. He stared at her mouth as his tone became husky and as smooth as a fine whiskey, and the corners of his mouth tilted upward in a sexy smirk. “I kind of thought that was a given after the way you screamed my name last night. Poor Rico has a banshee for a mom now—at least when I’m making her cum.”

Thank goodness her back was to the others in the large room, and they were far enough away not to have overheard what had made her blush as desire coursed through her body. Grace didn’t think she’d ever get enough of this man. “I seem to recall you shouting my name a few times, along with a hallelujah or two thrown in.”

A bark of laughter escaped him, and Grace was happy to see him truly grin for the first time since he’d walked in. “Well, I guess my car was right. Seeing you was just what I needed. Do you think anyone would notice if we locked ourselves in the laundry closet and fucked like rabbits?”

“Um, yeah . . . I think we just established we are both loud when it comes to that activity.”

“Ha!” He shook his head. “All right, it will have to wait until later. But be warned, sweetheart, it’s going to be hot, sweaty, and dirty. Then we’ll shower and do it all over again.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Uh-uh. That’s a guarantee.” Sean gave her another kiss, this one lingering a little longer than the first, and it made her wish the day was over so they could finish what they both wanted to start. “I’ll call you later when I have a better idea of what time I’ll be off of work. How does Chinese takeout sound for dinner? I’m not in the mood to clean dishes or cook . . . unless the cooking is in the bedroom.”

She chuckled at his erotic leer. “Chinese and cooking in the bedroom sound perfect to me, lover boy.”

* * *

Anger and frustration simmered in Sean’s gut as he studied the pictures of the murdered women pinned on the wall of the training classroom on the lower level of the sheriff’s department. Due to the increase in personnel needed, they’d moved the task force into a bigger room.

Becky Travis. Shannon Emmerson. Daphne Jones. Jessica Daly. And yesterday’s victim, Whitney Wells. Five women. All brutally murdered in the prime of their lives. Add in the three from Pennsylvania and the bastard was rising within the ranks of some of the most prolific serial killers in recent history. The press was having a field day—every day—especially since one of their own vultures had become a victim.

The only thing they’d been able to solve out of this whole mess had been who’d been leaking the information to Daly before her murder. Deputy Larry Cumberland’s cell phone number had appeared at least three times a week on the list of calls associated with the reporter’s cell and work phones. The fucker had been leaking information to her, and other reporters, in exchange for sex and money. After Sheriff Griffin reamed Cumberland a new asshole, he’d stripped him of his badge and gun, and suspended him pending formal charges being filed. Thirteen years on the job had gone up in smoke for a little extra cash and some nookie—Sean hoped the fucks and blow jobs had been worth it, but he doubted it.

Rafe and Brian walked into the room, drawing Sean’s attention. He glanced at the clock and noticed there were only a few minutes until the press conference started.

“You sure about this?” Brian asked him.

Sean frowned but nodded. “Yeah. Daly pissed him off and he veered from his norm. Suki thinks he may screw up if I piss him off. If you’ve got a better suggestion, let’s hear it, because I’m getting tired of spinning our wheels here. None of the tips have panned out. He’s got no DNA on record, so the sample we got from under Daphne Jones’s fingernails doesn’t do us any good. Whether we antagonize him or not, it’s a near certainty he’s already planning his next homicide, so maybe we can shake him up enough that we can get a fucking clue as to who this bastard is.”

Leaning against the table, Brian crossed his arms. “If you want, I’ll do it.” When his younger brother narrowed his eyes in confusion, he continued. “What happens if this guy decides to target you? You’ve got Grace to think about now. I’m not seeing anyone.”

Since they’d celebrated Easter Sunday with KC, Moriah, Brian, Dan, and Bonnie, everyone knew about the couple’s new relationship now and had all expressed their happiness over the union. It had gotten to the point Sean couldn’t remember what it was like not to have Grace’s sunshine in his life. He was falling hard for her and she’d told him the feeling was mutual.

Sean shook his head. He’d worried about making Grace a target, but decided to take precautions to ensure her safety. He’d do everything he could to protect her, but if another woman was targeted specifically because of what Sean was about to do, he’d never forgive himself. “No. I’ll make sure Grace stays safe—I’ll talk to her tonight. When she’s working, Dan can keep an eye out from across the street, and she has Tim inside the clinic—I’ll give him a head’s up, too. And besides, it probably wouldn’t matter whether you were seeing someone or not. All he’s got to do is associate any woman to you—neighbor, friend, coworker. No. It’ll also look odd if it doesn’t come from the FBI.”

A knock on the door jamb had them looking up. “Ready?” Matt asked, with Brad behind him.

Standing, Sean grabbed his carefully worded speech. “Yeah. I went over everything with Suki. She watched all of Daly’s newscasts about the UNSUB and thinks what set him off was the name-calling. Barbarian, savage, and sadist were the words Daly used. Suki said I should use them and a few others.”

“All right. Let’s go piss off a psycho then.”

They followed the sheriff down the hall toward the lobby. Along the way, Rafe cleared his throat as he walked next to Sean. “So, um, how was Suki when you spoke to her? Is she coming back to update the profile?”

Sean raised an eyebrow in curiosity and amusement. The other man definitely had a big-time crush on the good doctor. “She’s fine. And, no, she has no plans to come here. She can update the profile from her office.” He paused, then teased, “Want me to pass her a note from you at recess?”

“Fuck you, man,” he grumbled in a low voice. “She’s hot, and I liked the view. Nothing more.”

Uh-huh. Like Sean believed that—not. But as they hit the front doors leading out to the press conference, his mind went back into professional mode.

The parking lot was teeming with reporters jockeying for the ideal spot to capture the news conference. CNN, MSNBC, FOX News were there. Hell, even a news team from the BBC had shown up. Dare County’s Seaside Strangler was now international news and fodder for the true-crime fans.

Griffin took the podium first and released the name of the latest victim and some other information that was just a spin on what they’d release yesterday and the days before that. He then introduced FBI Special Agent Malone, and Sean stepped forward, placed his speech on the podium, and prepared to poke a rabid bear.