CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Friday, June 23
4:40 a.m.
Maggie couldn’t believe she’d gotten herself into this mess. Well, actually, she could, since she was the one who’d climbed into the back of a suspicious van and gotten herself trapped there. She wanted to check her phone to see if Vic had gotten her messages, but she was afraid to take it out and reveal herself.
She wouldn’t have much of a choice before too long.
The lights had dimmed to only the random passing headlights, which was all the confirmation she needed to know where they were going—Glacier. The unsub was going to finish what he started. Or she. Maggie wasn’t sure. The silhouette wasn’t particularly tall—the top of the head about even with the back of the headrest—and the figure was mostly hidden by the bulky coat. She’d caught a glimpse of the unsub’s hand when he’d adjusted the heat, but the light was too low to pick up any detail. The unsub could be anyone.
Anyone except Madison.
The girl hadn’t stirred in the time they’d been driving, which was worrisome. Maggie didn’t know if she’d been hit on the head like the nurse or if she was drugged, but she wasn’t rousing. She hoped the unsub hadn’t accidentally killed her—if he was going to do it on purpose, he would have finished it in the hospital the same way he had with Ashleigh.
Though that didn’t make a whole lot of sense from where she was sitting. Why kill one girl in the hospital and go through the effort of hauling the other one back into the park? It was riskier to take two, but this unsub had proven himself to be a planner of the highest degree. He’d incapacitated both nurses and a cop. He stole one of the nurses’ uniforms . . . for Madison? But why? That didn’t make any sense.
Unless the unsub stole the scrubs for himself.
The hospital was quiet at night. Even as small as this one was, people saw what they wanted to see. If they saw a nurse rolling someone on a cot or in a wheelchair, would they question it?
I bet that’s how he got her out.
That still didn’t explain why he killed one and took the other. There wasn’t anyone else who would have stopped him if he’d transported the girls one at a time out of the hospital and into the van. He’d already rendered Madison unconscious, so going back for Ashleigh would have been doable if he wanted to.
So he obviously hadn’t wanted to.
The question was: Why?
I could get to him now. He might see me in the rearview mirror, but it would be too late.
And it might kill them all when he lost control of the van.
The roads around here weren’t like those on the east side of the state. There were too many trees, sudden drop-offs, and mountains to run into if someone lost control. Add in the sheer lack of man-made light, and if they went over the side, someone might not find them for days. It had happened before, and it would no doubt happen again.
If it was just her and the unsub, she might risk it. But there was Madison to consider. The girl was still unconscious or too scared to move. Either way, her position in the sleeping bag would restrict her movements and prevent her from bracing if they crashed. She’d be helpless, and more likely to get hurt or killed as a result.
Maggie hadn’t gotten herself into this mess to end up dead—or killing what might be the last hiker alive.
Except for Ethan.
She frowned at the back of the unsub’s head. Last she’d heard, Ethan Conlon was still occupying space in the local police station. Who else was there?
Damn it, she was going to have to take her chances. The farther they drove, the less chance there was of anyone finding them in time. She couldn’t trust that her phone would have service to get a call or text out, and trying to hike back to civilization while injured, with an exhausted and possibly injured girl and a hunter on their heels . . .
Maggie didn’t like their odds.
She shifted, trying to get some traction so she could burst from her hiding spot, but the van slowed, stalling her intentions. Would it be better to go for him now or when he opened the back door? Neither would be spots he’d expect resistance, but the van’s interior would limit both their movements. That might be a blessing, but if he was bigger than Maggie—stronger—it would give him the advantage. If she wasn’t injured, she’d say to hell with it, but she had that to consider. It would slow her down, weaken her.
And then the van was stopped and the engine turned off, and her opportunity to choose had passed.
The unsub climbed out of the van, and she shifted toward the door. It was tempting to check on Madison, but there was no time. The back door cracked open, and she used both her feet to kick it with all her might. A surprised grunt was her only reward, and she sprang to her feet and rushed out into the night.
She got two steps before she realized the unsub wasn’t on the ground like she expected. A soft laugh had her turning around to find him on the side of the van, well out of range of the door. The gun in his hand shined dully in the weak moonlight.
“Nice try, Ranger.”
Maggie frowned. That wasn’t a man’s voice. She narrowed her eyes, seeing the lean form in new light. Normal height, petite but not thin, the coat cloaking all signs of gender. She’d assumed male in error because she’d fallen back on the old FBI studies that most serial killers were male. The percentages held up to that belief, even in recent years, but apparently Maggie was looking at one of the exceptions. She didn’t immediately recognize the voice, though, and the hood of the coat hid the woman’s features from her.
They’d thought the unsub was one of the hikers, but how could that be? There were no women left except for Madison, and she was currently in the back of the van. “Who are you?”
“Haven’t you guessed?” The unsub reached up and took down her hood.
Maggie stared. “But . . . that’s impossible.”
“Turns out reports of my death have been exaggerated.” Lauren Rosario laughed and motioned with the handgun. “Now, get that bitch up. We have work to do.”
Friday, June 23
5:09 a.m.
“They found the van.” Britton hung up his phone.
“Where?” Vic was driving since Britton had been coordinating things with Ava and the park rangers. He could have done it, but he was too damn distracted with his worry for Maggie. Driving was easier. He could focus on the physical and let Britton direct him while he tried very hard not to think about the fact it had been more than an hour since Maggie’s last text. His phone was in his lap, screen up in case she called or texted again.
Nothing.
With every minute that passed, he was surer that something had gone wrong—something beyond Maggie being in the back of that fucking van in the first place. It only took about forty-five minutes to get from the hospital to a midpoint within the roads that ran through the park. He and Britton were on Going-to-the-Sun, and he chafed at how slow he was forced to go. None of the sights were there at this hour, but once dawn hit, the glory that was Glacier would be there for the viewing.
He could give a fuck.
Britton cleared his throat. “We’re almost there. The van is at one of the viewing spots that leads into the Loop.”
Though he wanted to accelerate, he forced himself to maintain a reasonable speed. Getting into a wreck now would only distract from the most important thing—getting Maggie and Madison out of there alive.
Two minutes later, they found the van. A park-ranger vehicle sat next to it. David, pale and shaken, but determined. And Wyatt, who had aged decades in the last few days. “Agents.” Wyatt led the way to the van. “This matched the description you provided.” He shined his flashlight into the back. “We found it like this—the back door was ajar. There weren’t any signs of a struggle, but . . .”
But it was hard to tell. The back of the van held necessary items one would need if going camping, but it didn’t have the arsenal he’d expected. “He’s got a secondary location where he keeps his gear,” Vic said. Possibly the same location that he suspected the Haglunds had stumbled onto.
“I would expect there are trophies there as well.”
He hadn’t heard Britton approach, but Vic wasn’t surprised. Even when he wasn’t distracted, the man moved like a cat. Vic nodded. “They didn’t find anything missing, but with the way the bodies were found, it was possible Dr. Huxley missed something.” Cold to talk like this while Maggie was somewhere in the park, possibly fighting for her life. He swallowed hard, fighting for distance. “He’s got her.”
“Yes,” Britton said.
Wyatt shifted, drawing their attention. “The trailhead leads north for about a third of a mile before it branches. One branch heads toward Granite Park, and the other toward Flattop and then Fifty Mountain.”
“Fifty Mountain. That’s the one he’s taking them to.” Vic was sure of it. The unsub wouldn’t bother to make it all the way to Fifty Mountain unless there was some kind of significance there that Vic still didn’t understand. Most of the other deaths had been in the immediate area surrounding that campsite, but forcing two people to hike ten-ish miles in the dark was going to be next to impossible. Even if Madison was incapacitated, the unsub had to know Maggie would fight him every step of the way.
Unless he killed her.
Vic’s stomach lurched. “We have to go.”
“Keep it together.” Britton was there instantly, his body a shield between Vic and the park rangers, his voice low enough not to carry. “If they think you’re compromised, they won’t let you go with them.”
“They can’t stop me.”
“They can and they will.” Britton nodded at the trail. “It will be full light soon, and that’s when the unsub will start his hunt. There’s time.”
“You can’t know that.” Vic was afraid to hope. The unsub’s plans hadn’t included Maggie, and so there was no way to know if his desire for a challenge would push him to kill Maggie outright like he had Ashleigh, or if he’d include her in the hunt.
Vic shook his head. “Why did he kill Ashleigh in the hospital? It doesn’t fit with his MO.” All the other deaths fit, at least to some extent. There were slight discrepancies, but that made sense in the larger picture because all those people meant something to the unsub, though they still didn’t know what.
Either Ashleigh wasn’t meant to be on that trip . . . but no, that didn’t make sense, either. It would have been easy enough to leave her unharmed, the way he’d left the hospital staff. He’d wanted to kill her up close and personally—and hadn’t cared that her death wasn’t in the park.
The pieces clicked into place. “Why do people kill? Love, sex, jealousy, hate.”
“All shades of the same color.”
“Exactly.” Vic stared into the darkness, as if he could will Maggie into view. “This group of friends was quite the incestuous bunch. Different pairs dating, most of them cheating with others in the group. Ashleigh and Joshua dated through most of high school, but he traded her in for Lauren when she left—before she left, if our information was accurate.” He looked at Britton. “What do you want to bet she and Joshua had a little reunion in the meantime?”
“Once you cross that line, it’s easy enough to cross again,” Britton mused.
“Exactly. They’re all linked that way, which plays into the order of killings.” Understanding that small part of the unsub led the way to more potential revelations. It kept coming back to those kids and this park. He’d originally thought that something bad happened here, some event that stuck in the unsub’s mind until he either built it up to be something it wasn’t or let it poison his mind. Now it didn’t seem that that was the case.
If he was right, the motive here was one of the most common when it came to murder. It was just the method that was unique.
In the end, it didn’t matter.
Wyatt finally hung up his phone and approached. “There’s no good way to do this. It’s dangerous as hell to hike down in the dark, not least because we’ll need lights to make the initial descent, and we’re chasing a psychopath. But he’s got one of ours, and I’ve made the executive call not to wait.” He checked his watch. “There are more park rangers on their way, but we’re going in first. I’m assuming that you’re joining us?”
“Just Agent Sutherland.” Britton motioned to his phone. “I’m going to continue to coordinate efforts from here and stay in contact with Agent Kendrick.”
And use his influence to ensure the search rolled out the way he preferred. Vic didn’t say it. They were all control freaks in their own ways, and Britton’s tendencies benefited his team 99 percent of the time. This wouldn’t be an exception.
Britton motioned to his rental. “I have gear in there for you.”
Of course he did. Vic nodded and went to get it. He heard Wyatt and Britton speaking softly, figuring out the game plan, but he was more concerned with double-checking his pack. He trusted his boss, but there were maybe two people in the entire world he’d accept a pack from without doing a quick once-over. Satisfied everything was in order, he shrugged the backpack on and adjusted the straps.
Wyatt and David did the same. Wyatt took a long look at him. “This isn’t going to be easy, but you need to follow instructions. We’re all worried about Maggie and the girl. Trust me on that. You get yourself hurt or killed because you’re rushing this, and it’s going to distract from the ones who need our help. Got it?”
Vic wanted to rage at him, to tell him that he, of all people, knew exactly what was at stake. But Wyatt was right. He was dangerously close to losing control, and all that would do was put Maggie more firmly in danger. He couldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t.
So he just nodded.
And that was that. They hiked down into the darkness, and Vic couldn’t shake the feeling that he was willingly hiking into hell.