Veronica had to get out of there. Her car was parked three blocks up from Express. She could cut back around, sneak down the
alley, and get away. Gina had agreed to
buy her some time, so she should damn well be able to make it.
Veronica’s heart slammed into her ribs as she ran. She hated running. Already her side stung and her breath choked out. Damn
asthma, soon she’d be choking, trying to gulp in air.
Footsteps thudded behind her. Close, closing in.
No.
They couldn’t catch her. That wasn’t the way things were going to end. She wasn’t going to jail. She was going to an island.
She’d be a rich bitch and drink piña coladas on a beach for the rest of her days. No more poor white trash. No more rich frat
boys looking down their stuck-up noses at her.
She’d earned her new life, and no one was taking it away from her.
“
Stop!
” A woman’s voice. The redhead who’d been with him. “I’m with the FBI, and I’m ordering you—
stop!
”
Veronica threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Her right foot stumbled. She almost went down. Almost. But this wasn’t the
first time that she’d had to run like hell through the night. She ditched her shoes and ran faster.
She snaked into the alley. Her breath wheezed out. She’d make it. Veronica knew there was no choice.
Not going down for murder.
Mike was already dead. She’d seen the story on the news. The drop had been screwed, and those agents had shot him. They wouldn’t
be able to identify him, though, not for a while. Mike had always skated right past the cops.
Not this time.
Mike was gone, but Kevin was still out there, and she’d
always been able to count on Kevin. She’d meet him at the warehouse, and they’d lay low until some of the heat cooled off.
Someone grabbed her. A hand slapped over Veronica’s mouth and closed off the ragged gasp of her breath.
“Don’t move.” At his familiar whispered voice, she sagged. He shouldn’t have been there. They weren’t supposed to meet—but,
oh, damn, she was glad to have him with her in the dark.
He pulled her deeper into the alley and shoved her behind the garbage bin. He kept one hand around her mouth while he locked
one hand around her waist.
Tears leaked from her eyes. Her lungs hurt. But he was there. He’d take care of her. He’d promised.
The footsteps grew louder, pounding hard. Or was it her heart?
His?
Don’t look in the alley. Don’t look.
She saw the redhead. Caught a flash of her hair under the streetlight. The woman ran forward.
Heading for the parking lot.
Exactly where Veronica had been going.
Max Ridgeway thundered past with her. He never once glanced Veronica’s way.
Her lips pressed harder against the soft glove on her lover’s hand. He kissed her cheek and whispered, “They’re gone.”
She was safe.
His hand eased away from her waist, and a white-hot pain sliced her heart.
His hand pressed harder over her mouth, choking back the scream that built, the scream she didn’t even have enough breath
to voice.
“They’re gone, but they’ll be back soon. So I have to hurry, love.” The knife twisted. Burned.
A numbing cold swept into her blood.
“
Did you really think I’d let you have the money?
” His voice was still a whisper. “
You’re such a dumb bitch, but a perfect whore.
”
He pulled the knife out of her heart. Her blood splattered upon the ground. Her body began to sag. She tried to grab for the
garbage bin but her hands slipped on the side. The metal lid crashed down as she struggled to stand.
And he melted into the black night.
Sam skidded to a halt. She’d heard something. A clang, a hollow echo—like a metal door slamming shut. She spun back around.
“Samantha?”
“The alley—” Her gun was up, and she gasped out the words as she ran.
Ten feet. Five. The mouth of the alley that she’d passed earlier yawned before her. Sam hurried inside.
A cat screeched and shot past her legs.
Dammit, dammit, dammit!
“She’s gone.” Max’s disgusted voice, and he didn’t even sound winded from the run. He stalked farther into the alley. “Shit,
this connects to the main road. She probably went through here and back to her car.”
Sam’s nostrils flared as she caught the harsh scent of garbage, cigarettes, and crap that she didn’t even want to think about.
A big garbage bin slumped to the right, its lid half closed.
A metal screech.
She took a few more steps forward. Another scent filled her nostrils. Heavier. Fresher.
“That bartender knows her,” Max said. “We need to go back inside and make her tell us where that woman lives!”
Sam’s eyes narrowed as she struggled to see in the thick darkness.
A car engine revved in the distance. Tires squealed. And a heavy ache lodged in her chest. “I know where she is.”
Max whirled back around to face her.
Shaking her head, Sam leaned forward. She knew the scent of blood. A sliver of light trickled down from a second story window.
Light that fell on strands of blond hair.
Sam pulled out her phone and called Dante. When he answered, she said, “I’ve got a body.”
The killer’s foot pressed hard against the accelerator. Damn, but that had been close. He rolled down the window and let the
cool air blast against his face.
Too close.
He’d planned to kill Veronica. Just not then, not there. But he’d been following that dick Ridgeway, and when the guy had
gone in Express—
time’s up.
Veronica was weak; he knew it. He’d used that weakness. If the Feds had gotten hold of her, she would have confessed and ruined
everything.
He’d known that he had to move. And then sweet Veronica had run right to him. Good thing he’d been prepared for her.
The Feds were closing in faster than he’d anticipated. He had to be ready for them.
He stopped at the streetlight. He looked down and saw
the blood staining his shirt. Veronica had died easily. No long, pain-filled death. Just a quick kill, with minimal pain.
He figured she’d deserved that.
Poor Veronica. All her life she’d never been worth much.
But she’d sure been one fine piece of ass.
He fished out his phone, dialed the number, and when old Fuck ’em Frank answered with his trembling voice, he told him, “It’s
time.”
S
potlights shone down on the body. Max stood behind the yellow police tape, but he could see the woman, see the red that bloomed
from her chest. The blood that mixed with the trash and the mud beneath her.
“Let him through!” Dante’s order broke the air, and suddenly, Max was pulled under the tape and led closer to the scene.
“You know what’s happening,” Dante said.
No, he didn’t have a clue. He just knew dead bodies were turning up and that
wasn’t
good.
“The lead kidnapper’s covering his tracks. Taking out his team and eliminating anyone who can ID him.”
“What about Quinlan?”
A muscle worked in Dante’s jaw. “At this point…” Dante ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Ridgeway, but the
odds of his survival are slim.”
Max took that hit, and his hands fisted.
“
We were so damn close to her.
” He could still see her face. Wide eyes, staring at him with
recognition
before she’d run into the night. “If she’d just talked to us…”
“Then she might not have wound up with her heart nearly carved out.” Brutal.
The agent wasn’t pulling any punches.
“
You’re seeing this!
”
Max turned at the voice. Samantha’s voice. Angry, fierce, and splitting with emotion.
She was at the south side entrance to the alley. Her hand was clamped around another woman’s arm—the redheaded bartender who’d
alerted the blonde and who’d tripped Samantha when they gave chase.
Those few moments… if they’d just had…
“Uh, Sam?” Dante rushed toward her, even as he motioned for Max to stay back. “Sam, what are you—”
She ducked under the police tape and hauled the woman after her.
The bartender screamed, “
No, fuck, no, I don’t want to—”
“I don’t give a damn what you want.” Samantha jerked to a halt and glared at her. “Your
friend
is dead, and you are going to see her.”
The woman shook her head and tried to back away.
Samantha didn’t let her budge.
“Sam…” Dante closed in on her. “
Crime scene
, remember? You can’t just—”
“I’m out of time.” And just like that, the heat was gone from her voice. She sounded flat. Sad.
Max stepped toward her. Instantly a cop was there, putting a hand against his chest and stopping him. Making sure he didn’t
contaminate the scene. Right. Like he
probably hadn’t screwed the scene when he’d trampled through the alley the first time.
“I’m out of time,” Samantha said, “and so is Quinlan Malone.”
The bartender wasn’t looking at the body on the ground. “I-I don’t know any—”
“My brother,” Max snapped. “His name’s Quinlan Malone, and he’s missing.”
Samantha glanced his way. Their eyes held for a beat of time. Then she dropped her hold and stepped to the side. The redhead
got a full view of the dead woman. “
No!
” The bartender whirled away, shaking.
Samantha stared at the woman’s back. “You were friends, Gina.”
Gina gave a fast nod.
“You warned her to get out of the bar, but you should have listened to me. I
told
you I could help her.”
Gina’s shoulders shook as she cried—loud, gulping sobs.
“I need to find the man who did this,” Samantha said.
Gina glanced back at her and did
not
let her gaze drop to the body again.
“I need to find him because if I don’t…” Samantha shook her head. “More people are going to die.”
“Cover the body,” Dante ordered the tech who’d just finished photographing the scene. “
Now.
”
Gina’s lips trembled. “I-I don’t… know any-anything—”
“You knew her.” A jerk of Samantha’s thumb over her shoulder toward the body. “And now we need to know her. We need to know
everything
about her.”
A white cloth was pulled over the body.
The redhead’s eyes dropped, and she stared at the cloth.
“He left her with the garbage,” Samantha said. “Is that what she deserved?”
“N-no…”
“Then help me find the bastard who killed her.”
A tear trickled down Gina’s cheek, and she nodded.
“Good,
good.
” Samantha caught Gina’s shoulder. “Let’s start with her name. What was her name, Gina?”
“V-Veronica. Veronica J-James.”
“And where did she live?” Samantha asked as she guided her away from the crime scene.
“Seventeen-oh-nine Belmont…”
“Near Georgetown?”
“Y-yeah.”
They disappeared, turning right at the edge of the alley.
“Get the body out of here,” Dante ordered the team around him. “And I want a unit to head with me to Belmont.” He fired a
glance at Max. “You in for this, Ridgeway?”
Try to keep me out.
Sam went with the uniforms to 1709 Belmont. The officers immediately went to work searching the one-bedroom apartment. Max
came with them, but Luke ordered him to remain outside until they’d secured the scene.
Ignoring the team around her, Sam sat at Veronica’s keyboard, tapping quickly. The password was eliminated in five seconds.
Veronica’s favorite band. Luckily, Veronica had left a stack of their CDs near her desk.
She scrolled through the files. Nothing.
Nothing.
E-mails flew past her, names, dates. She checked as fast as she could, looking for something that would tie Veronica to the
kidnappings.
“Anything?” Kim asked from behind her.
Sam shook her head and went deeper into Veronica’s search history on the computer. Wait…
driving directions
.
She pulled up the archived file. Directions to 2917 Kyler Boulevard in Fairfax, Virginia. Directions that Veronica had looked
up the day before the first victim went missing.
The day before.
Fairfax was right in the middle of the kill zone. They’d mapped out a geographic zone for the kidnapper, and that area of
Fairfax was within driving distance to every disappearance. She glanced back at Kim, who already had her cell out.
“Pull up this address,” Kim said into the phone. “Two nine one seven Kyler Boulevard. In Fairfax, Virginia. Yeah, yeah, that’s
right. Now tell me who owns that property.” After a few moments, Kim’s eyes widened. “No shit.”
Sam’s heart thudded against her ribs.
Hurry, hurry.
Kim whistled softly. “Guess who owns an old warehouse in Fairfax?”
Sam wasn’t in the mood to guess.
“Frank Malone.”
What?
“Seems he bought some property over there about five years ago. Bought it, used it, then forgot it. The warehouse has been
boarded up for the last six months.” A brief pause. “Interesting, don’t you think?”
Sam jumped out of the chair. “I think we need to get to
that warehouse.” Because Jeremy Briar had been left in his father’s driveway. Because Adam Warrant’s body had been found in
a garage owned by
his
father.
No, Christ, no.
Fairfax would be a perfect kill site.
Frank had taken Beth’s car and slipped away without the guards. Frank had his gun—he wasn’t stupid—but he was scared.
The warehouse waited at the end of the street. Darkened windows, tall walls. Abandoned.
He reached for his phone. Hesitated.
Call Max.
The whisper in his head. He should let Max know where he was. What was happening.
Would you trade your life for his? Is he worth that much?
His hands curled into fists, and Frank sucked in a sharp breath. No, he wouldn’t call Max.
Time for me to do something right.
He shoved open the car door and climbed out slowly. “
Hello!
” His voice echoed back to him. There were no cars here, no lights. Nothing but the night and that damn warehouse.