D E A D

C O L D

(A Kelsey Hawk Mystery—Book 11)

K a t e   B o l d

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eleven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting);  the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the KELSEY HAWK SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising nine books (and counting); the NORA PRICE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising ten books (and counting); OF the BARREN PINES PSYCHOLIGICAL SUSPENSE series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising ten books (and counting); and of the MAGGIE FLIGHT SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting).

THE KILLING GAME (an Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book #1), LET ME GO (an Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book #1), and NOT ME (a Camille Grace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book #1) are available as free downloads on Amazon!

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2025 by Kate Bold. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Aydin Hassan, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Epilogue

Prologue

The only thing that rose earlier than dawn in the town of Millbrook was its longest-serving council member, or so Harold Kensington liked to think. He didn't take his car that morning, and as he walked through the town toward the town hall. He knew it was unlikely the case, but the innocuous thought gave him an inner belief of importance. He pulled on the lapels of his jacket, a subtle reminder to himself. He didn't need to wear a suit when visiting town hall, especially when he would arrive so early and no one else would be there, but it was a part of feeling important.

The duty of a council member in a small town in North Dakota affected just over a thousand people; even in the town, most people didn't know his name. Outside of the small town, he was anonymous. Rising so early and dressing well helped him to feel important even if he wasn’t in the grand scheme of things.

I have a small measure of importance. The work I do guides the town and protects the people within it, no matter what anyone might think. If you do a job, you might as well do it to the best of your ability.

With his suit donned and the positive thoughts in his mind, Harold Kensington strode through the town with his head held high.

The shades of orange the risen sun cast over the town were a welcome addition to the morning. It was never the reason he rose so early, but he always enjoyed it immensely. Harold took in a deep breath as he made the fifteen-minute walk. He had never been the sort of man who disliked going to work, regardless of his numerous jobs over the years. He looked forward to getting to town hall and reviewing the rezoning regulations. They would bore many, but not Harold.

His route to the town hall took him around the edge of the town, though many routes ran along the edge of Millbrook, population 1,258 (as of the last census). Nothing was far from anything,

The orange sun bathed the golden wheat fields, a vast sea of yellow under the large, open sky. The landscape to his left stretched on for miles, with only grain silos standing tall. The path under his feet was packed dirt, which changed briefly when he crossed the small wooden bridge over Willow Creek.

The town hall was constructed in the early 1900s, and red brick buffered the strong prairie winds. It had stood for over a hundred years and would continue to stand for a hundred more. Green double doors sat in the middle of the front facade, symmetrically framed by rectangular windows on each side. The town hall was not large or grand but functional and solid.

Harold compared the town hall building to the townspeople: strong and practical.

Now, they could move away from their current status and become something else entirely. The rezoning regulations placed their future in their own hands, giving them a chance to build on their solid foundations.

Harold took out his key, one of many held by multiple people, mostly council members. He unlocked the door and made a mental note to inform the building manager of the rusty scraping from within the lock. He returned the key to his pocket and entered through the right-hand door.

There was never a hum of activity or very much noise within the building at any time of the day, but the air inside changed when people worked. With the building empty and Harold the first to enter, a lightness hung in the air.

He closed the door behind him and walked through the main entranceway toward the council offices. The building was not large enough, and they were not wealthy enough to have an office each, and that worked most of the time.

Harold stopped eight paces into the building. Something had changed. He spun around slowly, trying to figure out what. He stood still and listened, but nothing was heard. He stood in the middle of the town hall building for ten seconds before he moved on.

He was almost at the office when he stopped dead again. He had heard footsteps. Harold was not afraid of the footsteps; there was no reason to be. He was annoyed with them. He shouldn’t have taken so much pride in being the first into the town hall, but the presence of another irked him.

"Hello?" he greeted, trying to sound magnanimous.

There was no reply to his greeting. As he stood close to the office door, searching the halls and listening for the sound of his counterpart, he came up empty. Some mild elation filled his chest that he had been mistaken. He turned back to the door, but a scuffle from behind took all happiness from him once more.

When Harold turned around, he was not shocked or scared by the figure standing just down the hallway; he was disappointed. He squinted to see him better, but the sun was behind the man, framing him in a golden glow, rendering his features darkened and hidden.

"What are you doing here?" Harold asked, assuming it was another council member arriving at the office just after him.

He had wanted to peruse the documents in silence, another act that would have made his morning more meaningful, but he wasn’t able to do that anymore.

The person didn't answer, stepping forward in response instead.

Harold stood stock still, squinting again to make out the man walking toward him.

"Good morning," Harold said, faint recognition swirling in his mind.

"Good morning, Councilman Kensington," the man replied. "I wonder if I might have a word with you about something important."

"Yes, of course," Harold replied, his chest puffing. "Why don't you step into my office?"

Those were the last words the Councilman ever uttered. As soon as he turned to open the office door, his head exploded in pain as he was struck from behind.

The Councilman's life flashed before his eyes as the world turned to black. The pain quickly turned to numbness as he wondered whether he had ever made a difference in the town.

That didn't matter anymore. He didn't have to think about his life at all as he lay dead on the floor.

Chapter One

Two Weeks Earlier

"Good afternoon," Kelsey said to students of Winchburgh High School. "My name is Kelsey Hawk, and I am a special agent with the FBI."

Kelsey smiled and looked around the small school gym, making eye contact with as many students as possible, especially the female ones. She wanted them to see that they could succeed in typically male-dominated industries.

Kelsey wasn’t just making it; she was one of the best agents in the department. Her arrest record spoke for itself.

"I grew up in a small town much like this one and moved to the city of Lakeview after graduating from the academy. I am glad to be back in such a welcoming and community-minded town."

She hadn’t liked it at first, but it had grown on her over time, and she now called Winchburgh home. Her sister Erica lived with her, and she had fallen for the Deputy Sheriff, John Gallant.

"I work in the North Dakota field office based here in Winchburgh, and you might imagine that what I do is exciting, but a lot of it is community relations and paperwork. The most exciting thing on my agenda today is coming here to talk with all of you. I don't want to detract from this visit; I’m excited to be here to share with you. I’m sure coming to school is the most exciting part of your day, too."

The joke garnered a couple of chuckles, multiple eye rolls, and someone shouting, "We get to miss Math for this!"

Kelsey smiled at the children. She looked them over again, imagining what the future held for them. Kelsey’s thoughts on her future had changed over time, and even now, she wasn’t sure what the future held.

She ran a hand over her head; her black hair pulled tight and into a ponytail that hung down the back of her neck. She had applied minimal makeup, still more than usual for her day-to-day work, a little eyeshadow to bring out the green in her eyes. No one would have known she was an FBI agent if she had not told them (or they had known already)—there was no uniform (only a gun and badge). Kelsey wore a pair of comfortable black slacks, a white blouse, and a dark blue blazer. She looked professional, and the pants gave her room to move should she need to chase down someone.

"Don’t overlook math if you want a career in law enforcement," Kelsey said, responding to the teen who had shouted. "Math is excellent for most careers, but that logical thinking is something you want to hone if you become a police officer or detective. It’s a must if you want to become part of the FBI. You might not know what your path is at the moment, and when I was your age, I was lost. It took time for me to find my place in the world, and I am still doing that, but I know I make a difference here."

Kelsey smiled again, taking her time as she spoke to the students.

"Now, many people who do this kind of thing—I’m talking about speaking to all of you and not law enforcement specifically—come in here with numerous anecdotes to regale you. I deal mainly in homicide and catching serial killers. Most of my anecdotes are not fit to be retold."

A heavy silence filled the hall as Kelsey spoke. Many of the kids leaned forward on the benches, eager to hear more about Kelsey's macabre work.

"So, instead of telling you stories about the specifics of my work, we’re going to recreate one of the tests from the academy."

There were some groans from within the hall.

"Come on, on your feet," Kelsey said. "We have a two-hour math exam to complete."

"What?" someone gasped.

"What sort of exam?" another asked.

"If I had known—" another started.

Kelsey raised her hands, palms outward. "Don't worry, I’m messing with you. Your teachers here at Winchburgh School have kindly agreed to turn your gymnasium into an assault course. Physicality is a big part of being an FBI agent, and you must be quick on your feet."

"I’d rather do the math test, to be honest," someone grumbled.

Kelsey chuckled. "Now, anyone who can beat me will receive extra credit in Phys. Ed., and to be fair, we can also schedule a math test at some point, and the same will go for that." Kelsey looked around, unsure if she could make that promise. "Let’s give your teachers some help where they need it to get the gym set up, and if you have any questions about being an FBI agent, please come and talk with me."

Kelsey stepped to the side, moving toward the door to give the teachers and helping students some space. A girl with her head down moved toward Kelsey purposefully, watching her feet as if afraid of misstepping.

"Um, excuse me, Special Agent Hawk," the girl said.

"Yes, do you have a question for me?" Kelsey asked.

"I do," the girl stated. "My grades are good, but I don't always have the confidence to do things. I don't know if I would make a good agent, but I really want to try."

"And that is exactly what will make you a good agent," Kelsey said.

The student looked up.

"The fact that you want to try is the best start. Grades are all good, and you need to stay in shape as best as possible, but if you go into the academy wanting to be a special agent, you are already on your way."

"Okay," the girl said hesitantly. "What else should I be doing?"

"Honestly, have fun in school," Kelsey said. "Try your best to keep your grades up because you do need that, but have fun while you are still a kid. Focus on grade twelve, and look for any volunteer opportunities in town. That will help with your confidence, but the thing that will help most is becoming an FBI agent. You will get there, and I hope that you give me a call when you do."

"Yes, I will," the girl said seriously. "Thank you, Special Agent Hawk."

Kelsey fielded a few more questions before the obstacle course was ready to be run.

"Alright," Kelsey said, addressing the room. "We all only get one shot at this. I will go first, and remember, the goal is to beat my time. Anyone who does gets extra credit." Kelsey smirked. "Although looking around this room, I’m not sure anyone will be able to do better than me."

Playful shouts and disagreements reverberated around the room as Kelsey stirred them up.

Mr. Edson, the Phys. Ed. teacher, was in charge of timing Kelsey and the students. By looking at the course occasionally, Kelsey could see he was also eager to try.

Kelsey reached the start position, and Mr. Edson gave her a countdown. As soon as he started the stopwatch, Kelsey ran. She felt like she was back in the academy, proving to everyone she was capable. She could almost smell the academy assault course, and familiar feelings came rushing back: the happiness of being pushed to her limits and an ache in her heart that she would never be good enough.

I am good enough!

The first half of the course was over in a blur, and Kelsey could hardly remember going over and under the obstacles. She planted her foot and leaped forward, placing both hands atop the padded surface and swinging her legs over. Then, up the rope ladder, over the bar at the top, and down the other side. She sprinted from one wall to the next two times and hurled herself at the rope, placing a hand over hand until she was close enough to slap one hand against the bell.

She reveled in the impressed expressions when she slid down the rope to the floor. They had expected her to be good, but they were not expecting her to put up so fast a time.

Kelsey nodded to them and stepped to the side to allow the first challenger to take their turn.

Everyone in the gym cheered for each student who attempted the course. Twelve students were needed before Kelsey’s time was beaten by Brock, the football team’s running back. He returned to his people a hero. No one else achieved the same feat.

After everyone had run the course, Kelsey congratulated Brock and made a few final remarks before excusing herself. The best part of the morning was seeing the looks on the children’s faces as she left. They had been intrigued but expected the talk to be somewhat dull. The entire school was pumped as Kelsey stepped out, which would make it much harder for them to concentrate on the work they would go back to.

Kelsey laughed as she walked from the school toward the town center and the FBI offices. It had gone better than she thought it would, and the students were not the only ones who were pumped.

She was almost at the High Street when a man in black jeans and a dark bomber jacket turned the corner and headed her way. She didn't recognize him, but she only knew a small percentage of the town by face and name.

Kelsey frowned in surprise when the man walked at an angle toward her, and she had to spin to the side as he bumped his shoulder into hers.

"Hey," Kelsey said as he barged past. She shook her head and watched him walk off, not turning around to apologize or say anything.

Kelsey continued, and after a few minutes, her phone vibrated.

She stuck her hand in her pants pocket and realized her phone was not vibrating. She moved her hand to her jacket pocket and discovered a phone. A flash of the man bumping into her rocketed through her mind. She took the phone, an older flip phone, and opened it. It stopped vibrating.

The phone was unlocked, and one new message was ready to be read. She opened the message.

I’m in danger. I need your help getting out. I don't know where they’ve taken me.

Kelsey stared at the message momentarily before folding the phone and placing it back in her pocket. She didn't know what she would respond with but knew exactly where the message and phone call had come from.

She knew the call would come sooner or later, and it had arrived. There was no controlling events from here on out. She could only react to what was to come.

Chapter Two

Present Day

Kelsey entered the small coffee shop and spotted John at the rear in a booth. He immediately stood and smiled in her direction, his wide grin warming her heart. She walked over to him, the smile contagious. John stepped out of the booth to greet her, placing one hand around her onto her lower back and leaning in to kiss her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey, yourself," she replied.

John guided her to the opposite side of the booth where he was sitting and then sat down.

"How are you doing?" John asked.

Kelsey laughed.

"What?" John said, still smiling.

The server came over, and Kelsey ordered a small latte with an extra shot of espresso. She studied John for a second before she gave her reply. He was tall and handsome; there was no doubt about it, and some subtle things contributed to that. His jawline was strong, and he was always clean-shaven. He had piercing chestnut eyes, soft skin, and an angular chin. His features all contributed to his handsomeness, but it was his loyalty and strong sense of justice that made him most attractive.

"We just left the office thirty minutes ago," Kelsey said. "You asked me how I was doing this morning. Are you asking if anything has changed in the last half an hour?"

John laughed. The timbre of his laughter rippled through Kelsey’s chest. "I don't know. It’s just something you say, isn’t it? How are you doing? How’s it going? What’s new?"

"It’s something you say," Kelsey teased. "I mean, everything you say is something you say."

"I’ve heard that before," John agreed, leaning forward. "Which philosopher was it who said that again? Descartes?"

"Yeah, I think it was," Kelsey replied. "Smart guy."

"Very smart." John reached over the table and took Kelsey’s hand, bringing it back halfway and cupping it in both hands. He sat silently with a smile as he gazed at Kelsey.

"What?" Kelsey chuckled nervously. "Now, you’re just staring at me."

"I can't help it," John admitted. "I never get tired of looking at your face. And I have to take the opportunity when it arises. I could spend all day in the office staring at you, but that wouldn’t help with anything. Do you know how hard it is to be in the office with you and remain professional?"

"Wait, you remain professional in the office?" Kelsey teased some more. "When? I’d love to see you being professional in the office."

John shook his head, the smile never leaving his face.

Kelsey turned more serious. "No, I know exactly what you’re saying. I love working with you, but it is sometimes hard not to walk over and hug you or even just touch your hand." Butterflies flapped in her stomach as she spoke about it. She had never allowed herself to become so attached to another, especially after she found her sister. She’d had no say in the matter of falling for John.

John Gallant. Never has there been a more apt surname.

John squeezed Kelsey’s hand. The warmth from his body flowed into her hand and up her arm. Her gaze turned more serious again, unable to smile as she looked into his eyes. It was not for lack of happiness; the situation only demanded seriousness as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

The spell was broken when the server returned with Kelsey’s latte.

"Can I get you two anything else?" The waitress had a knowing and joyful smile.

"No, thank you," Kelsey replied.

She smiled at the waitress before leaving, and butterflies came to her stomach again. She had been going around in circles in her mind with what she would do next and whether or not to tell John about it. Ultimately, she knew she had to tell him, and the longer she left it, the more betrayed he might feel.

Kelsey took her hand from John’s to pick up her cup. She sipped the latte, not looking at John for the first time since walking into the coffee shop. She stared at her cup as she placed it back on the table between them.

The table was not the only thing between them.

"Hey, so I need to tell you something," Kelsey said. He had spent years tracking and chasing down serial killers, often putting herself in the firing line. Talking to the man she loved about something she had kept hidden from him was far scarier than any of that.

"Yeah, you can tell me anything," John said.

He sat opposite her with a polite smile, but the longer she stared at him before speaking, the more his brows lowered.

"Are you okay?" John asked. "Are we okay?"

"Yes, absolutely," Kelsey replied. I hope we are after I talk to you about this. "I like what we have together, and I want to keep what we have, but there’s something I should have told you sooner."

"Okay," John said, drawing out the word. "I’m listening."

"You know mostly everything about my past," Kelsey explained. "When I was ten, my family was killed in a home invasion, and I thought I had lost my sister, too. The people who took her were human traffickers, among many other things, and I thought she was dead until some information came through that she might still be alive."

"And you tracked her down and found her," John said.

"I did, and I’m never losing her again," Kelsey said. A fire ignited in her chest as she thought about Erica and everything she had gone through for two decades. Brainwashed, drugged, manipulated. "The people I took her from are still around."

John’s eyes widened and lit up. "Have they threatened you?"

"No," Kelsey replied. "Well, not exactly. They made contact with me five weeks ago, and they informed me that if I didn't do a favor for them, they would come after Erica again."

"You can’t," John warned. "We’ll protect Erica and take down the whole organization before they get near her again."

"I appreciate that, I really do, but it’s already done," Kelsey informed him.

John sat back in his chair. His brows furrowed so much that it looked like he might strain himself. "What are you talking about?"

"They wanted me to store some merchandise for them, and I agreed to do it." Kelsey raised her hand to stop John from interrupting. "I know what you’re going to say, and I told myself the same thing, but I was worried for my sister, and the more I know about these people, the closer I can get to bringing them down. You know we can't just storm their headquarters, right? This is a nationwide enterprise. If we cut off one head of the hydra, another will rise. But, if we do this the right way and attack the business, we have a chance to end it once and for all."

John pushed a hand through his hair. "Alright, give me a second here. So, you took merchandise into your home and stored it for them? Is that why you were so weird the other week?"

"Yeah," Kelsey said. "I couldn’t let you into my apartment while he was there."

John let out a quick breath. "He?"

"Yes," Kelsey replied.

"You shouldn’t have let one of them into your home." John struggled to breathe calmly.

"He works for them and knows things. It gave me a chance to know more about them."

"He’s playing you," John said.

"I considered that, but I don't think he was," Kelsey explained. "I know there’s nothing I can say to make this any better, but you trust me, don't you?"

Please say you trust me.

"I don’t… I mean, I do trust you, but I don't get why you did this." John didn't look at her as he spoke.

"For Erica," Kelsey said. "John, I love you and want to be with you, but no one comes before my sister, and you knew that going into this."

"I did, and I respect that, but that doesn't mean you get to house criminals in your apartment because they asked you to." John became louder as he spoke.

"It was my only choice, and if I could do it all over again, I would make that same choice," Kelsey informed him. "I know how it looks and sounds, but you don't know these people like I do. You don't know what Erica and I have been through."

"I don't, but that doesn't mean I don't understand your pain and reasoning." John paused and ran his hand through his hair a second time. "I don't want this to turn into an argument, but you have to see how this looks from my point of view."

"I do, and I knew it would upset you if I told you, but I couldn't keep it from you." Kelsey’s hands shook as she picked up her coffee and took a sip. "I could’ve kept it from you if I wanted, and you would never have known, but I didn't want that. I need your support with this."

John shook his head. "You always have my support, you know that. Just tell me what the next steps are, but I have a right to be angry for a while. I don't really know how I feel about all of this yet."

"That’s fair," Kelsey agreed, taking a breath. "I know I did the wrong thing, but it was also the right thing, and I need to make sure it continues to be the right thing. I can't do this without you."

John sighed. "Do what?"

"I don't completely know yet. The man who stayed at my apartment went by the name Philip Guppy. That’s not his real name. He has previously gone by the name John Oliver, but I don't know if that was also an alias. He’s a counterfeiter working for them, but I don't know exactly what he does. I would assume it involves manipulating currency in some way, maybe money laundering. I spoke to him a little when he stayed with me, and he knows they will kill him when he outlives his usefulness or when they decide to retire him. He won't ever get to live a normal life. After they arrived to take him from my apartment, I found a note. He asked for my help."

John leaned forward again, his law enforcement officer instincts kicking in. "You want to use him to bring them down from the inside."

"It’s the only way they can be brought down," Kelsey said. "We don't put an end to their people, but their criminal activities."

"So, he’s feeding you information?" John asked.

"Not yet," Kelsey admitted. "Two weeks ago, he had a cell phone delivered to me, and he has been reaching out through that. I can't guarantee he’s on our side, but everything points in that direction. The only problem is I have no idea where they’ve taken him, and he has no idea, either. They are holding him in a complex somewhere. He won't give me any useful information until he’s safe, which means getting him out of there first."

"But you don't know where he is?" John asked.

"Not yet," Kelsey admitted. "I have a contact I can reach out to back at headquarters who might be able to find him. I didn't want to do that until I spoke to you about it. I want you to know what I’m getting myself into."

"Trouble," John said, snorting. "What’s new?"

Kelsey was unsure if it was a joke. "I don't want to drag you into anything you are not a part of."

"I’m a part of it," John noted. "I’m still angry about the entire thing, but it’s not only Erica's safety I’m worried about, but yours, too."

"You don't have to worry about me," Kelsey told him.

"You don't get to tell me that," John replied. "No matter what happens with us, I will always be around to protect you."

"And what happens with us?" Kelsey asked.

"I need some time," John told her. "This is a lot to take in, and I care a lot about you. I need some time to think about everything."

"That’s fair," Kelsey said. "Take whatever time you need. I’m sorry I didn't tell you before, but I didn't know what might happen. I wanted to protect you."

"Maybe we shouldn’t choose when we get to protect each other," John suggested.

"It's hard to put someone you love in danger." Kelsey looked toward John, searching for his eyes and willing him to look back at her.

He did. "Yeah, it is."

"I don't have to be in the office for the next few days," Kelsey said. "You can have some space, but I will fight for us, John."

"I know," John replied. "I want to be with you; I just need some time."

Kelsey nodded. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket—her actual phone, not the one from Philip Guppy. She answered the call from Sheriff Anderson.

"Sheriff," Kelsey said.

"Where are you, Hawk?" Sheriff Anderson said.

"I’m at the cafe with John."

"Good," the Sheriff replied. "I need you both to get over to Millbrook now. They have a murder and are worried it might be politically motivated. The call has come from higher up, and they want you both over there now."

"Higher up?" Kelsey asked.

"The call came directly from the Attorney General. They asked for you and John specifically. I don't want a second call from them asking why you are not there yet."

"We’re on our way," Kelsey said, looking at John.

It was not unusual to be asked to work a case, but for the Attorney General to get involved was a puzzling addition, and the case had not yet started.

Chapter Three

Fields of yellow bordered one side of the highway as they drove toward Millbrook. Kelsey leaned her head to the right, looking out the passenger window of John’s truck as he drove them to the crime scene. Although she had never been to Millbrook before, she knew it by name. She stared at the fields as they passed slowly, beauty created by the richness of the color.

"So much for taking some time," Kelsey said, trying to break the tension after the drive had been silent up to that point.

John grunted in response.

Kelsey had learned to decrypt his grunts and other noises over the past months. The noise he had given her was not an angry one, only one to make some noise in response to her comment rather than communicating anything. Kelsey continued to look out the window, wondering if there was more meaning in the sound than she thought.

The town of Millbrook was smaller than Winchburgh, but not by much. The town cut into the fields of yellow, but they likely circled around the rear and continued on the other side. The tops of the crops together almost looked solid as they passed at speed. It felt like the calm before the storm—a sea of gold before the spilled blood.

Kelsey didn’t know if there was any spilled blood. All she knew was someone was killed at the town hall.

John indicated and turned off the highway, going up the off-ramp and taking the bridge over the highway toward the town. From the high vantage point, the church's steeple could be seen. It was the third tallest structure in the town. The grain silo was the tallest, with the water tower a close second.

They came down the other side of the bridge and into the town. The homes were simple and looked lived-in. Small picket fences surrounded most of the houses they passed as they entered the town, suggesting that neighbors liked to see and talk to each other from their yards. Kelsey remembered one place she lived in back in Valleyview. The fence around the backyard was so tall that only the sky could be seen.

They passed a school with a small green field attached to it, a gas station, a mechanic shop, a grocery store, and a small office building. It had almost everything the people needed, but only on a small scale compared to other places. They had not asked for directions to reach their final destination, but the town was not large, and they would find the town hall. She trusted John to get them where they were going.

Two minutes later, they pulled up at the town hall, a small brick building with green doors. Part of the building’s front was obscured by the white van, patrol car, and three other cars outside. A line of black and yellow police tape fluttered in the breeze, both sides attached to trees on either side of the building.

A uniformed state trooper and a man in jeans and a checkered shirt stood at the double doors, and everyone else stood around, obviously disgruntled.

"This is different," Kelsey noted.

"Yeah," John agreed.

Kelsey was heartened that he sounded like his usual self. Once the car was parked, they got out and walked together toward the building. They took out their IDs simultaneously as if they had practiced synchronicity. One of the forensic team muttered something unintelligible, but Kelsey made out it was something about them arriving and that they would soon be able to get to work.

"I have orders to keep everyone outside until you have taken a look," the state trooper said.

"Orders from who?" Kelsey asked.

"My boss," he replied.

I expect you don't know who gave your boss the orders.

"My name is Councilman Higgins," the man standing with the state trooper said. "We are glad to have you in our town, and if you need anything, you only have to ask. I knew the victim personally. If you want—"

"We should take a look," Kelsey said. "In a murder investigation, every second counts. We’ll look at the crime scene and then vacate so the forensic team can do their jobs. We can speak to people out here once we are done."

"Very good," the state trooper said. "I’ll escort you to the crime scene."

The Councilman looked like he wanted to say something more, but he held his tongue. He faced the crowd waiting to go in as if he would be the one to stop them if they tried to charge into the building.

Kelsey and John followed the state trooper into the building, and their steps echoed down the hallways. The main entranceway branched off in three directions. Hallways ran from the left and right of the entranceway, and the state trooper led them straight ahead. The hallway continued for a short distance before it opened up into a large oval room—large in comparison to the overall size of the building.

More hallways branched off the open oval room, and the walls were adorned with murals depicting the town's history. Kelsey might have spent more time studying the murals if it were not for the dead body lying in the middle of the room.

"Harold Kensington," the state trooper said. "He was a council member here in town. Another council member found him, not the guy outside. She’s back at her home after the fright of discovering the body. An officer is with her."

Kelsey nodded. The state trooper held back as Kelsey and John approached the body.

Harold Kensington looked like he might have been sleeping. He lay on the floor, ankles crossed over one another, his eyes closed. The two things that suggested he was not napping, along with the fact he was dead, were his arms outstretched at either side as if he had been crucified and the patch of red on his shirt below his jacket.

Kelsey took some latex gloves from her pocket and bent down by the body.

"He was purposely positioned like this," Kelsey told John.

"A religious killer?" he asked, indicating the crucifixion pose.

"Perhaps," Kelsey agreed.

She carefully unbuttoned his jacket. The material was thick, and the blood had soaked into the underside, but not much had soaked through. She pulled the front of the jacket apart, exposing the shirt beneath. With the top layer removed, the blood on his chest looked like a flower that had bloomed. Kelsey stared at the blood stain, not wanting to go any further—she would leave that to the forensic team.

"From the pattern of blood, it looks like his heart," Kelsey suggested.

"Shot?" John asked, strolling around the body.

"I don't know," she replied. "I can't see any blood pooling below him, so either a bullet that didn't come out the other side or he was stabbed."

Kelsey continued to study the body, not wanting to move Harold or disturb him much. She had a keen eye but was no forensic officer and didn't want to disturb any vital evidence. She brought a hand to the man’s head, running her fingers across his scalp until she felt a tender lump at the back of his skull. She brought her hand back to find no blood on her fingers.

Kelsey stood back up. "He was struck on the back of the head before he was stabbed. Whoever attacked him wanted to subdue him first. At least, that’s what the evidence tells me."

"Then it was premeditated," John said.

Their voices sounded large in the oval room.

"It must have been," Kelsey agreed. She turned and took in the whole room. "Look at this room, John. If you wanted to display a body, which the killer obviously did, this is the place to do it. Smack dab in the middle of the room. What are the chances our killer found and attacked the Councilman here?"

"Possible," John said.

Kelsey took another look at the body. There wasn’t anything else obvious to her trained eye to be found. She stepped away from it and began walking the room, moving constantly outward, looking at the floor. When she found nothing, she moved on to one of the hallways. The town hall was not large, but Kelsey took her time searching. She knew every minute was valuable to the forensic team, but she needed to have the whole picture before she exited.

It took her four minutes to find the spot of blood outside the closed door. She crouched down and stared at the tiny dot of red on the floor, a dried semi-sphere.

You came here, were struck from behind, dragged to the oval room, and stabbed there. Why were you positioned like that? What do you want us to know?

"What did you find?" John asked.

"Blood. Most likely the victim’s," Kelsey replied. "I think we have all we need. Can you coordinate with the forensic team when they enter—let them know about the blood, and sweep the area between here and the oval room? There are a couple of routes from here to the body, but the shortest route makes the most sense."

"Okay," John said.

Kelsey left John and found the doors leading back out. She hadn’t seen any other entrances or exits when exploring the interior. She informed the state trooper that he could let the forensic team in to do their job. She watched them filter into the building. A councilman was dead, and someone from up on high had requested Kelsey and John to investigate. They obviously knew them by reputation and wanted the murder solved quickly.

But to what end?

"Mr. Higgins," Kelsey called to the Councilman.

The Councilman walked over with a spring in his step like a dog that had been called.

"What can I do for you?" Councilman Higgins asked, speaking with a well-practiced air and showing signs of confidence and eagerness.

"You worked with Councilman Kensington," Kelsey noted.

"I did," he replied. "Such a tragedy. You won't find a nicer man in these parts, and we are known for our good natures. How was he killed? Do you know yet?"

"We will in time," Kelsey confirmed. "Can you think of anyone around here who might have wanted to hurt Councilman Kensington?"

"Around here?" Councilman Higgins answered. "No, no. No, no one around here would want to hurt Harold. He was well-known and well-respected. No one in this town would ever hurt a hair on his head or want to cause Harold any harm. No, the killer is not from these parts."

From how he said the last sentence, Kelsey felt something bubbling below the surface of the Councilman.

"But you know someone who might want to hurt him who’s not from here?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, I do," Councilman Higgins confirmed.

Chapter Four

Kelsey stared at the Councilman for a second before she asked, "Who? Who would want to hurt Councilman Kensington?"

The two Councilmen looked very different, excluding the obvious fact that one was dead and the other alive. The dead man wore a suit, while the Councilman she spoke to was dressed more casually. Councilman Higgins was short and slightly round. He was clean-shaven, and his neck was almost thicker than his head. He wore circular spectacles that made his face look rounder.

"Harold fought for the common man," Councilman Higgins replied. "I mean, we all do in our own way. For the common woman, too. We fight for everyone in this town and try to do what is best for them, even when the people don't know what is best for themselves. Councilman Kensington fought to uphold traditional values, and that is obviously what got him killed."

"I am sure it is obvious to you, but you must explain it more simply to me," Kelsey informed him.

"Yes, of course," the Councilman said. He took on an air of pompousness at being asked to talk down to the special agent, not realizing that it was only because he was not explaining himself very well. His head was held a little higher, and his shoulders pushed back. "Harold was always for the little man. Um, the little woman, too. I forget that you can't always use the words we have used for decades."

"You can use whatever words you like," Kelsey assured, "as long as you help us with our investigation."

Councilman Higgins coughed to clear his throat. "Our town is always in the eye of private developers, and Harold was always against anyone coming into our town and changing it. He was well-respected for hiding that value. We have had a number of big-box stores that have inquired about setting up shop in our town, so to speak. Harold convinced almost all of us to vote against that each time. He made the point that if we allowed one store into the town, it would only be a matter of time before all of our local businesses were put out of business. That might be the case, but it would still open up dozens of jobs for local people, and that is always a good thing."

"I assume you were for bringing new businesses into the town?" Kelsey asked.

"I make no secret of that," Councilman Higgins replied. "With new businesses, we can revitalize the town. You’ve not been here for long, but it’s obvious we need something. I know you won't understand this coming from the big city, but small towns like this are not quaint or picturesque. We’re slowly crumbling. If we don't do something to pull out of it, we’ll become a retirement home. All the young people will move away, and we’ll be left with nothing."

Kelsey took a beat. The Councilman spoke as if he had everything figured out. She couldn’t imagine what he was like to work with but imagined he could be annoying to his coworkers if he acted the same as he did with Kelsey.

"What makes you think I’m from the big city?" Kelsey asked.

"You’re an FBI agent," the Councilman replied.

"I am," Kelsey agreed. "I’m based in the Winchburgh field office, which is also where I live. I grew up in Mikkisula, Missouri. I’m small town through and through." Except for when I did live in the big city in between.

"Oh," the Councilman replied. "Then you must know exactly what I’m talking about."

She could deduce what he meant by it, but she didn't share his opinion. In truth, she had never been in the same position. Winchburgh was doing well as far as she knew, but would she change her tune if it were in a state of decline?

"All I want to understand is who might have killed Councilman Kensington," Kelsey said. "Are you implying that some of the businesses that wanted to come into the town might have done this?"

"That’s exactly what I’m saying," the Councilman said. "They all knew there was no point in trying to establish a business here as long as Harold was on the council. It was not only his vote but his sway in town. He might have been the longest-serving council member, but that doesn't mean we all have to listen to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the bigger businesses got together, and that was the outcome."

"You think they killed Harold Kensington to be able to establish businesses in town?" Kelsey asked.

"I’m only speculating," Councilman Higgins replied.

"It sounds like you didn't have the best relationship with Harold," Kelsey noted.

"What are you implying?" the Councilman asked.

"I’m not implying anything, only making an observation."

"We might not have seen eye to eye on things, but Harold was coming around to the idea of progress. That’s why he was in so early this morning. I mean, he loved to be in before any of us—some sort of power move. He had always voted against allowing new businesses to come into the town, but he was voting for it this time. I was the one who convinced him, and none of the other council members knew what was coming."

Councilman Higgins puffed out his chest again, and he looked like he expected Kelsey to be impressed.

"So, this was the first time he was voting in favor of a new business establishing itself in town?" Kelsey asked.

"Absolutely."

"Hey," John said as he walked from the door to the town hall. "The forensic team is doing their thing in there. Do you want to pay a visa to Brenda Hargreaves?"

"Is she the one who found the body?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes."

Kelsey turned to Councilman Higgins. "I appreciate the information, Councilman. We might need to speak to you again."

"Don't worry, I won't leave town," he replied.

Kelsey heard a ring of truth in his words. She didn't know it, but she suspected he was Millbrook born and bred, and he would live out the rest of his life in the town. She didn't expect he would leave the town.

***

They had passed Councilwoman Brenda Hargreaves’ house on their way into town. It was a single-level detached home with a fading white picket fence around it. A small apple tree grew out front to the right of the pathway to the door, and part of a washing line was visible past the side of the residence—it was currently unused.

After John knocked, an officer answered the door. Kelsey and John showed their IDs, and Officer Douglas introduced himself before leading them through the home to the sitting room, where Brenda Hargreaves sat in a large reclining armchair that was not currently reclined.

Brenda was a small woman who looked even smaller in the large chair. She had long gray hair but must have only been in her late forties. The gray hair gave her the presence of wisdom, but Kelsey didn't know from the first glance at the Councilwoman whether that wisdom was there or not.

"Councilwoman Hargreaves, my name is Special Agent Hawk," Kelsey said as she stood just inside the door.

"Brenda, please," the Councilwoman said. "And you’re making me nervous. Will you take a seat?"

"Of course," Kelsey said.

She and John sat side by side on the sofa while the officer left the room.

"He looked so small," Brenda said wistfully.

Kelsey wondered if Brenda had seen the blood on Harold’s shirt.

"Can you take us through what happened this morning?" Kelsey asked. "Were you the second person to arrive at the town hall after Harold?"

As Kelsey thought about it, she realized that he could have been there late the previous night.

"I usually am," Brenda said. "Harold always arrived at city hall earlier than everyone else, something he prided himself on. I’m an early riser, too. I didn't hear anyone else in the hall when I got there. The door was already unlocked."

"Did you find the body immediately?" John asked.

Brenda nodded sadly and brought a tissue to her nose. "I like to walk through the oval room on my way to the offices."

Kelsey thought of the closed door where she had found the speck of blood. "They are on the east side of the building?"

"Yes, exactly," Brenda replied. "It was as if he had been left just for me. Going through the oval room is not the quickest way to get to the office, but I do love it there. I loved it there."

Brenda shook her head and glanced past Kelsey and John, not staring at the wall but reminiscing about the room. It was a special place for her, but it had been ruined forever.

"I know this morning was traumatic, but there are a few things we need to know, Kelsey said. "Did you touch the body after you found it?"

"No." Brenda shook her head fearfully as if they might ask her to return and touch it. "No, I saw blood on his shirt, and I called an ambulance immediately. I didn't know what to do, but I always heard that you should try to move someone in case you make things worse. There was no point in me doing anything. What could I do? I don't know about stuff like that." Brenda grew more agitated as she spoke.

"It’s alright," John said. "You did everything you could for Harold."

Brenda wiped her eyes with the tissue.

"Did you see anyone else in the hall?" John continued. "Maybe you heard something?"

"No, there was no one there," Brenda replied. "I don't think there was anyone there. No one else arrived before the ambulance did, and they exited soon after without bringing Harold out. That’s when I knew it was bad."

"We are sorry for your loss," Kelsey said. "We heard already that Harold was liked and respected around town."

"He was," Brenda agreed. "Harold lived here his entire life and dedicated himself to the town. His wife passed away three years ago, and often, men go not long after. They don't have anything to live for anymore, but not Harold. That’s not to take anything away from his wife—she was a lovely woman, too—but he continued with more energy than before as if he were doing it all in her memory."

"Does he have other family in town?" John asked.

"No, not for a long time," Brenda said. "His two sons and daughter moved away when they were eighteen or nineteen. They started families of their own. They still visited Harold, and Harold would go out to see them. His wife, too, before she passed. Harold was a good man, and everyone in town thought so."

"He was going in this morning to look over some documents for a new business venture in town," Kelsey noted.

"Yes, the vote was later this afternoon," Brenda confirmed.

"Councilman Higgins told us that Harold was to vote for the development this time after a long string of votes against new businesses," Kelsey said.

"Oh, he’s a fool," Brenda said, shaking his head. "Brian Higgins wanted to bring in any new business that wanted to come here, no matter what it did to the town. He would have sold out for any amount of money, and he was always trying to convince Harold to change his vote to sway the entire council as if we don't have minds of our own. No, Harold wasn’t voting for the new development."

"You know this?" Kelsey asked.

"I do," Brenda confirmed. "Harold told me he told Brian that he was voting that way just to keep him off his back. Well, you should have seen the look on Brian's face the last two days. The man is awful at keeping something secret. He thought Harold would join him and bring the whole council with him. No, Harold was voting against the venture as he always did. I would have liked to have seen the look on Brian’s face when he found out. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. A good man is dead."

"We’ll leave you in the hands of Officer Douglas for now, but if you have any more information, let him know, and we can stop back in or talk on the phone," Kelsey said.

"I will," Brenda replied.

Kelsey and John let the officer know they were leaving and exited the residence.

"Are we thinking the same thing?" John asked.

"I think so," Kelsey confirmed. "If Councilman Higgins found out that Harold had duped him into thinking he was voting one way when he was voting the other, he would have a reason to be angry, especially if he would be made to look a fool at the council vote."

"Let’s hope he hasn’t left town," John said.

Chapter Five

Councilman Brian Higgins’ house was the same size and design as Brenda’s but had been updated. The exterior cedar cladding had been replaced with modern plastic siding, and a six-foot wooden fence had been installed in place of a white picket fence. All the windows had been recently replaced, and four solar panels were on the roof.

The door looked like it had been freshly painted, and when John knocked, he looked at his knuckles in case they came away with paint.

Councilman Higgins answered the door shortly after. He looked at Kelsey and John before breaking into a practiced smile.

"Special Agent Hawk, Deputy Gallant. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"We have some follow-up questions to our earlier conversation," Kelsey said. "Can we come in?"

"Of course. Please come in," the Councilman said enthusiastically. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Orange juice?"

"No, we’re fine," John said.

The Councilman smiled and nodded. He then stood to the side to let them in and closed the door behind them. Brian led them through to the living room.

"My wife, Joan," Brian said, gesturing toward the woman sitting in the chair by the window doing needlepoint.

"I’ll get out of your hair," she said. "Did you offer them some coffee, Brian?"

"I did," Brian replied. "They don't want any."

"Well, the offer stands," Joan said as she packed away her tools and got up from the chair. "If you change your mind, give me a shout."

"Thank you," Kelsey said.

Brian watched her go, a politician’s smile on his face the entire time. Once she had vacated the room, he asked, "So, what else do you need to know?"

He didn't offer them a seat. Kelsey didn't mind standing.

"According to Brenda Hargreaves, Harold Kensington was voting against the new venture in your town," Kelsey said. "She told us that Harold only told you he was voting with you to keep you off his back."

"She said that?" Brian asked.

"Yes," Kelsey said.

She watched Brian. She believed that he believed what he said, and now that he heard otherwise, he either didn't believe it or didn't want to seem like a fool. There was a slight twitch in his eyes and a tightening of his smile. Kelsey believed what Brenda told her, and she was fairly certain Brian believed it, too.

"Well, we won't ever know," he finally said.

"No, I guess not," John said. Then, after a short silence, "Where were you last night and this morning, Mr. Higgins?"

"My goodness, this is ridiculous!" Brian stated. "You think I found out he was voting against me, so I decided to kill him? He’s voted against me a dozen times."

"We only want to rule you out of our investigation, Mr. Higgins," Kelsey informed him.

"Joan!" Brian called. He shook his head and placed his hands on his hips as he waited. When she arrived back in the living room, he said to her, "Tell them where I was last night and this morning, Joan."

"Last night and this morning?" she asked. "Well, you were here with me. You came home from work, and we had dinner and watched TV. We even played cribbage, didn't we? Then, we went to bed at ten and were up at six. They don't think you did it, do they?"

"Yes, they do," he said haughtily. "They accused me of murdering my friend. Yes, we didn't vote the same way or agree on just about anything, but Harold and I were friends."

"Mr. Higgins, we are not accusing you of anything," Kelsey informed him. "We only want to account for everyone’s whereabouts so we can focus on what is important."

"If you want to focus on important matters, you should talk to Jason Brandt. He’s only been in town for six months and practically followed Harold around like his shadow. How he ever became part of the council, I’ll never know. If you want to talk to someone suspicious, he’s your man."

"Jason Brandt?" John asked. "Do you have an address for Mr. Brandt?"

"Let me write it down for you," Brian said.

***

The man brought his car to a halt outside the diner. He was hungry but had no intention of going in—he could eat later after he had completed his task. It was late afternoon, but the diner's neon sign still shone brightly. It would become even brighter when night fell. The man looked at the red neon, the letters written in cursive. He knew they spelled out Angela’s Diner, but he might not have been able to decipher the words if he didn't already know the name.

Ten windows adorned the front of the building—he had counted each one. All of them were partially covered by the chalk pen images scrawled on the inside. The Riverton Rodeo was approaching, and the windows depicted cartoon horses, cowboys, hay bales, tractors, and crowds.

Martin Whitaker sat amongst the images. He sat at the window, a woman beside him and a man across the table. They ate and talked, all three of them smiling at the same time and turning serious at others. Martin had a burger and fries before him and had just started eating them. The man in the car took a long look at Martin before turning away and looking down the street.

He had parked on the opposite side of the main street in Riverton. There were about a dozen people on the street, including the people he could see before him and those visible in the rearview mirror. He looked up the street, checking the buildings this time. The nice thing about being in a small town was the lack of CCTV cameras. They were all over the cities; he never liked staying in them for long. Something was disconcerting about being watched all of the time. There were no cameras on any of the buildings around him.

One final glance at Martin across the street and then to the passenger seat. He picked up the folded map and unfolded it across the steering wheel. The map unfolded to eight times its original size and showed the town of Riverton. The man traced his finger over the map, drawing a line down the main street. He tapped where the diner would be.

When the survey map was created, the diner had not been built. There was only an empty plot. Many of the other properties were on the map, even if the businesses within the properties had changed over the years,

The survey map was calming. Each property had boundary lines showing its dimensions, and the map included zoning, easements, features, and limitations. Everything had a place to be, a sense of belonging, and a geometric nicety as if the map were a puzzle that had been stitched together. He took his finger from the map and ran his eye over it. The straight lines and uniform printing brought order to his world.

He folded the map before anyone got too close to his vehicle. It wouldn't be unusual to see someone in a car with a map, but nowadays, it would. Everyone had a map on their phone, and seeing someone covering their car's interior front half with the paper equivalent would be bizarre. Perhaps not so much in a small town, but it would still be unusual.

The man returned the folded map to the passenger seat and retrieved the other documents. He didn't need to unfold the letter-sized sheets and could go through them one by one. The property records detailed not only the current owners of the buildings but also their history. They showed previous owners and businesses—a time capsule of the past.

They were interesting enough on their own, but when read together, they provided a snapshot of the past. When combined with the survey map, they drew a picture of what life was like, what it currently was, and how it might shape the future.

"The future must be shaped," the man muttered. The council comes together to decide the community's future, but that’s not what’s needed. What these people need is a strong hand to guide them forward."

The man looked up the street again, watching the people going about their days, unaware of the danger they were truly in.

"I will be that hand that steers them like a shepherd guiding his sheep."

He found the property record for the building that housed the hardware store. Four men had owned the building since it was built, and the current owner was Martin Whitaker, who was finishing the last of his burger across the road.

The man returned the documents to the map and drank from the water bottle in the console between the seats. He watched as Martin Whitaker wiped his mouth with a napkin, crumpled it, and placed it on the empty plate. He was the one who paid the bill for the three of them.

"You are the next step," the man whispered, watching Martin’s every move.

Martin Whitaker spent a few minutes chatting before getting up from the booth and going to the front door. He grabbed his jacket hanging from the hook at the front. He stepped outside with the other two and chatted for a minute more before bidding them farewell.

Martin went one way, and his acquaintances went the other. The man watched Martin in his mirrors. When Martin was a block down the street, he started his car and drove to the next intersection to make a U-turn. He then drove after Martin, needing to follow him.

It is not yet time. Enjoy the last of your time in this town, Martin. Enjoy what little time you have left in your life because you will soon be dead.

Chapter Six

Darkness was falling. They had interviewed two council members, one of them twice, and sat outside a third's house. So far, they had gotten no further with their investigations other than the previous council member suggesting the council member in the house they were outside was suspicious.

In a small town where everyone seemed to have lived their entire lives and the council was skewed toward the older side, some suspicions were cast on a young council member who had only lived there for six months. Still, suspicions and facts were very different, and they would only know more after talking with Jacob Brandt.

John picked up the last of his sub and took a bite. They had stopped for food and coffee after realizing it was past supper time.

"I saw a motel half a mile down the highway before the turn-off for the town," John said. "Depending on what we get here, it might be better to stay in the area tonight rather than head back to Winchburgh."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Kelsey agreed. She paused and then asked, "One room or two?"

John considered it for a second. "We should get one room to reduce expenses."

"Yeah, to cut down on expenses." Kelsey smiled. She hadn’t been sure until that moment how angry John was at her until that moment, and while his tone held some frustration, they were still a couple who would share a bed that night.

Unless he means for us to get a twin room.

"Do you want to introduce yourself?" Kelsey asked, looking toward the five-plex.

The building contained five double-level residences, all sitting side by side. The individual residences were small, and the building was newer than the houses Brenda and Brian lived in. They were starter houses, likely occupied by single people, new families, or those who had just moved to town.

"I want to make a call," Kelsey continued. "This case is the most important thing right now, but it is not the only thing I need to solve. I’ll call one of my contacts at Quantico and see what they can find out about Philip Guppy or whatever his real name is. I want to end this whole thing as soon as possible."

"Alright," John said.

He moved to get out of the truck but stopped when Kelsey grabbed his hand. She squeezed it, and he didn't try to pull his hand back.

"Thank you for being there for me," Kelsey said. "Not just now, but all the times in the past, you have been there for me, too. I couldn't have done any of this without you."

"Something tells me you could," John replied, "but I’ll take the compliment all the same."

Kelsey let go of John’s hand, and he moved to leave the truck before stopping again. He was half out when he turned to face Kelsey.

"Is it bothering you that we were asked for by name by the Attorney General?" John asked.

Kelsey nodded. "Yeah, it is. I’ve been trying to figure out why that might be, especially when it’s a small-town murder of a councilman. The only reason for someone to want us on the case is if they want it solved, and the only people with that sort of power are likely the businesses who want to come into the small towns. I have two working theories about that."

"What are they?" John asked, still halfway out and halfway in the vehicle.

"The business that wants to come into Millbrook wants the murder wrapped up as quickly as possible so they can go ahead with their plans to move into the town, or someone thinks one of the companies is behind this, and a rival wants them brought to justice."

"If Harold Kensington was voting against the new development, they maybe wanted to get him out the picture and bring someone new onto the board they could control." John glanced toward the building. "Perhaps they already did that."

Kelsey nodded. "Go and chat with him and see what you get. I’ll be there in a minute."

"Alright," John said. He finally unfolded himself from his crouched position, closed the truck door, and walked up to Jacob’s door.

Kelsey pulled out her phone and found Lucas Garcia's number. She still had friends at Quantico, but the place had changed a lot since she had been there and then relocated to Winchburgh. Her old boss, Special Agent in Charge Paul Granger, had it out for her when she worked there. She couldn’t entirely blame him, as she was never good at following the rules or taking orders that slowed down progress on a case.

She dialed the number. It was answered on the third ring.

"Hawk, it’s been a while," Lucas said. "How are you doing?"

"Investigating another murder, so much the same as always," Kelsey replied.

"I thought they retired you out there to bore you to death."

Kelsey smiled. "Well, they thought wrong."

"How’s your sister doing?" Lucas asked.

"She’s getting there," Kelsey admitted. She had to remember to call Sheriff Anderson when they left Jason’s house to have him look in on Erica. "It takes time, but she is getting better every day."

Erica didn't know about the counterfeiter who had stayed in the apartment. Kelsey had convinced her sister to stay with the Sheriff for a while, a place she felt safe. When Kelsey wasn’t around, Erica could see things and lose her mind a little. Kelsey still didn't know if the people Erica had seen were real or not, but she knew they were still in their lives until she did something about it.

"I need your help with something," Kelsey said. "I need to know where someone is."

"Who?" Lucas asked.

"You can't go through official channels," Kelsey told him. "I don't know who is monitoring us."

"Is this one of these things where it is better not to ask too many questions?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah," Kelsey replied. She added, "Sorry."

"It wouldn’t be the same if anything you did weren’t dangerous," Lucas said. "Tell me what you need."

"I’m looking for information on someone named Philip Guppy. The name is an alias. He’s also gone by the name John Oliver and was arrested under that name. I don’t know if that is an alias, either. I don't know who knows about these names, so you have to do this as secretly as possible. I have a phone he’s been using to communicate with me. The number is unknown, but the only messages coming in and going out are to his phone. See if you can find where his phone is transmitting from."

"Got it," Lucas said. "What’s the number of your phone?"

"555-252-3391," Kelsey replayed.

Lucas repeated the number back to her to confirm it. "Alright, I’ll see what I can find and call you back with any information."

"Thanks, Lucas," Kelsey said. She said goodbye to him and then sat in John’s truck for a moment.

Everything in her life felt bigger. They had come to the small town to investigate a murder, but on whose orders? She had found her sister after twenty years missing and was going up against the national crime syndicate that took her. And she didn't know anything about them. And her relationship with John was strained. Although, she knew they were strong enough to get through it.

Kelsey took a deep breath and exited the black truck. She walked up the path and found the door ajar. She let herself in and followed the voices of John and Jason talking.

John nodded to her when she reached the living room of the small home. There was not much inside, but everything looked more modern than the two houses they had stepped inside previously. The flatscreen TV was on the smaller side, a laptop sat on the table, and the walls were bare. It definitely looked like a place where a young man lived alone.

"Jacob has been catching me up on how the council works," John said. "There are five members on the council, and votes are passed with a simple majority." He turned back to Jacob. "You said that Harold was mentoring you?"

"Yes," Jacob said. There was a hint of a South American accent. "From the minute I stepped foot in town, Harold welcomed me. I ate at his house on my first night here. He showed me around, and he was the one who suggested I take the council position after Councilwoman Linda retired. He thought it would be good to have an outside perspective, and of course, there was a need for younger people on the council."

"They voted you in?" Kelsey asked.

"The town did," Jacob replied. "Although no one ran against me, so I didn't have much to do. I think they respected Harold’s opinion on the matter."

"How about Councilman Higgins?" John asked. "What did he think about it?"

"No, he didn't like it. He encouraged some other townspeople to run, but no one was interested in the job. Harold always said it was the most important job in the world and one of the most thankless. I will miss him dearly."

Jacob smiled as he mentioned Harold, fondly remembering him, but his eyes were sad. He was a young man, seemingly coming to the town alone, and Harold had taken him under his wing.

He was a mentor. Perhaps a father figure.

Kelsey found Jacob believable. He was sincere, and his respect for Harold shined through.

"What was the vote for?" Kelsey asked. "Harold was going in this morning to review some documents before the vote. What was the most recent development?"

"A project called NextTown," Jacob replied. "It wasn’t just a project to bring a new business to the town, but to revitalize the town completely. They would build condos, gentrify the commercial district, and update everything. I believe there was talk of a new hotel and spa. Possibly a golf course?"

"They wanted to change the town?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, exactly," Jacob replied. "It all sounded very impressive, and there were definite benefits to the project, but most people here like how we live. They don’t want change on that scale."

"How about you?" John asked.

"I wouldn’t have come here if I didn't want to live in the town, Deputy Gallant," Jacob said. "I planned to stop here for a month or two, take some work as a farmhand, and move on, but the town charmed me. I am proud to call this place home."

"What do you do here?" Kelsey asked. "I can't imagine being a council member pays much."

"It pays nothing at all," Jacob said. "I work as a farm hand on the McTalbot Farm. It’s honest work, and it pays the bills. I don't know what I will do in the future. It can worry many young people, but I know something will come up for me. Some will move away, and some will stay, but life continues."

"Where were you last night and this morning?" Kelsey asked. "We’re like to rule you out of our investigation."

Kelsey didn't think Jacob Brandt had a hand in Harold’s death.

"I played an online shooter with some friends from Columbia late into the night, and I woke this morning when Councilman Higgins called me to tell me the news."

"Do you have anyone who can corroborate that you were in your house this morning?" John asked.

"No, I don’t," he replied. He didn't sound worried about the lack of a concrete alibi. "Harold was a good man, and he was well respected around the town, but that didn’t mean he didn't have enemies. I believe he confided in me more than anyone else. He became pretty lonely after his wife died, or so I heard."

"Did he confide something to you?" Kelsey asked.

"He confided lots of things, but there is one person who stands out. Harold was thorough in everything he did, and I follow in his footsteps in that regard. There was a vote three months ago on whether to build new condominiums in the town, and it was always going to be voted down. Three independent contractors put in bids for the construction as part of the bid, and Harold looked into them all. Lucas Barrett had a construction company running out of Oakridge, twenty miles down the highway from Millbrook. Harold exposed the use of substandard materials in previous municipal projects, and the company went bankrupt afterward. Lucas Barrett publicly threatened Harold, and I know he did so privately on multiple occasions. He was angry. Very angry. There are others who have no doubt been unhappy with the council decisions Harold made, but this was different. Lucas Barrett was the one in the wrong, but he blamed Harold for ruining his life."

"Do you have any evidence of the private threats?" Kelsey asked.

"Not personally, but perhaps on Harold’s computer. Harold told me about the threats, and I will swear to that before you. It is not for me to say whether he did it or not."

Kelsey looked at John.

"We get some rest," John said. "First thing in the morning, we pay Lucas Barrett and the town of Oakridge a visit. Let’s hope we find something there to point us toward the killer before he strikes again."

Chapter Seven

Kelsey woke to her phone ringing. It took her a moment to remember where she was: a small motel outside the town of Millbrook. She felt John’s warmth beside her even if she didn't feel his touch.

She reached out in the semi-darkness, some light coming from her phone, and answered the phone without checking how it was. From the lack of light outside, it was early, and a call so early meant either bad news, or someone had found something.

"Special Agent Hawk," Kelsey answered.

John stirred as Kelsey sat up in bed.

"Special Agent Hawk, I’m Dr. Wilson with the medical examiner’s office. We completed the autopsy and thought you would like to know immediately what we found."

Kelsey licked her lips. John sat up in bed beside her.

"Yes, I do. Thank you. That was quick," Kelsey replied.

"Harold Kensington was a well-liked man in these parts," the doctor told her.

Kelsey knew they would have done the autopsy as quickly as the facility allowed, but it was still a pleasant thing to say.

"What did you find?" Kelsey asked.

"Not much, to be honest," Dr. Wilson replied. "The blood found on the floor by the offices does belong to Harold Kensington and was a result of a blow to the head by a blunt object. A splinter of wood in his scalp confirms the object was wooden, but that’s all we know about it. The blow to the head was hard, and it likely knocked him out. I like to think it did, but the bruising and how it looks like he didn’t put up any fight after that confirms it for me. He died as peacefully as he could with a death like that."

"What caused his death? He was stabbed?" Kelsey asked.

"He was," Dr. Wilson replied. "One stab wound to the heart. Clean—in and out. He was laid out on the floor before he was stabbed. There was one curious detail. His shirt was punctured where he was stabbed, but the jacket was not. The stab wound is definitely under his jacket. Whoever stabbed Harold did so and then buttoned his jacket over the stab wound. You tell me what that means."

"You haven’t mentioned it yet, but I’m presuming you found no DNA evidence that gives us our killer?" Kelsey asked.

"Nothing so far, Special Agent Hawk, but they are not done yet with his clothing," the doctor said. "We do know the knife used was sharp and had a straight edge, but that is about all we know about it."

"Alright, call me if you find anything else," Kelsey said. "Thanks for checking in."

She said goodbye to the doctor and turned to face John in the darkness. She didn't know if she should lean in for a kiss. They had shared a bed but had not cuddled together. He needed some space, and she didn’t want to overstep any boundaries that could set them back.

"Nothing we didn't already know," Kelsey told John. "Harold was struck over the head, likely to subdue him, and then placed in the oval room and stabbed. I don't know if the killer showed Harold some respect by buttoning up his jacket afterward or if he opened it to stab him and then buttoned it. Harold was definitely posed, so that could be a part of that. The killer wanted the body to be presented a certain way."

"Any thoughts on that?" John asked.

"Nothing yet," Kelsey replied. "The killer wanted to present something to us. At the moment, only they know what that is."

"Are you ready to pay a visit to Lucas Barrett?" John asked.

"Yeah, let’s find out where he was when Harold Kensington was murdered in cold blood."

***

Two quick showers, a hasty motel exit, one stop for coffee and bagels, two sugars and cream in one coffee, nothing in the other, twenty-two miles driven, and Kelsey and John found themselves in the town of Oakridge.

Halfway from Millbrook to Oakridge, the fields changed color from bright yellow to earthy green. Crops were still grown for human consumption—from grains in the fields around Millbrook to root vegetables in the fields around Oakridge. Other than that, the towns were very similar.

Although they were not identical in terms of layout or the exact style of the houses, they had the same feel as they drove into the town. Many of the houses on the edge of Oakridge were single-level dwellings with small fences around them. Interspersed between them were yards with taller fences, just like Councilman Higgins’ yard. As they moved closer to the town center, more modern developments took over, but nothing stood tall above the other buildings.

They drove down the main street, spotting the same businesses as in the previous town. There was a diner, bank, hardware store, cafe, Chinese restaurant, beauty salon, small grocery store, and liquor store.

Lucas Barrett’s home was on the other side of the town from the highway, and his home stood out in a row of houses that were exact replicas of the ones they drove by entering the town.

"He owned his own construction company," John noted as he brought his truck to a stop. "I’d bet he built this house after buying the property."

The house was obviously new, perhaps less than five years old. It had a concrete basement set halfway into the ground and fiberglass siding. Everything about it looked new: the windows, roof, surrounding fence, and yard. However, the roof did not have solar panels.

Kelsey and John exited the vehicle and went to the door. John knocked.

A woman in her thirties answered the door.

"Special Agent Hawk," Kelsey introduced herself, showing her badge.

"Deputy Gallant," John followed up.

"We’re looking for Lucas Barrett," Kelsey said.

The woman wrinkled her nose and twisted her lips. "What has he done now," she said slowly.

"Are you his wife?" John asked.

"You would think," the woman said. "He certainly doesn’t treat me like it. You should lock him up and take him off my hands. If I have to be in this house for one more minute with that man, I’ll—"

"Mrs. Barrett," Kelsey said calmly, trying to diffuse the situation they had walked into. "Can we please speak with your husband?"

"He’s not here," she replied. "I don't know where he is half the time, and the other half of the time, he’s drunk in his chair."

"You don't know where he is?" John asked.

"Not usually," she replied. The woman frowned. "He’ll be at the job on Vincent Street if he knows what’s good for him."

"Vincent Street?" Kelsey confirmed.

The woman sighed and held back the tears. She managed a nod.

"Mrs. Barrett, was your husband home last night and the night before?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, he was. Last night, anyway," she replied, shaking her head. "The night before, he was gone all night on a bender and didn't return until two in the afternoon yesterday. I was furious when I found out he missed work again. I told him if he missed work today, I was walking out. If he’s not there when you get there, you make sure and tell me. And if he is there, you arrest him for whatever you think he’s done because he’s probably done it."

"So, he was home last night, but he wasn’t home the night before, and he didn't get home until yesterday afternoon?" Kelsey confirmed.

"Yeah, drunk as a skunk." The woman held back the tears again. The toll was clear on her face.

He lost his company and then spiraled down?

"Thank you for your help," Kelsey said. We will contact you if we need a formal statement."

The woman shook her head as if the interaction had consumed all her energy. She said nothing more and closed the door on them.

John glanced at Kelsey, and then they were back in the truck, using the GPS to get to Vincent Street, a short, four-minute drive. When they got to the street, it was obvious where the worksite was. Small houses sat in two rows, one on each side of the street, but one house was missing, and multiple work vehicles were out front of the property. When they drew closer, they saw a concrete basement being poured.

John parked the truck, and they got out, getting as close to the work area as possible. The job site was relatively quiet, the main sound coming from the cement mixers as the large drums turned to keep the cement from drying out and solidifying.

"We’re looking for Lucas Bennett!" John shouted down.

The four men in the large hole stopped working, and three of them looked in one man’s direction. The man took off his safety goggles and looked up at them.

"Who wants to know?" he shouted back.

Kelsey and John took out their badges and held them up. It was enough for the man to roll his eyes and toss his work gloves to the ground. He looked at one of the men, the one in charge, and he received a nod and a jerk of the head to tell him to take it off to the side.

Lucas Barrett walked to the side of the hole and up a short ladder to the work equipment and tools, where Kelsey and John were situated. They then made their way around the hole to talk with him.

They didn't have to get face to face with Lucas to tell he was in a bad state. He had a fresh cut on his lip, swayed when he tried to stand still, and scratched nervously at the back of his head. When they did get close enough, they saw the raw redness in his eyes, the dry lips, and the dark circles around his eyes.

Kelsey couldn't be sure if Lucas was drunk or hungover. He was in no state to be working at a job site.

"We want to talk to you about Harold Kensington," John told him.

Lucas immediately stepped forward and kicked an empty five-gallon pail, sending it into the neighbor’s fence, where it bounced off and thudded to the dry dirt.

"There’s no love lost between the two of you?" Kelsey asked.

Luca snorted like a bull about to charge and smiled. He took a step toward Kelsey, and John took a step forward to cut him off if he went for her.

"No, there’s no love lost between us," he said, slurring his words a little. "That old moron ruined my life. He took everything from me, and I hope he rots in hell."

"You do?" Kelsey asked.

Lucas nodded gleefully, taking pleasure from thinking about Harold’s demise. "Yeah, I do." He shook his head and puffed his chest, strutting away from them and back, rubbing a hand to his forehead, the rage bubbling just below the surface and threatening to explode at any second. "He didn't need to do what he did, but he did it anyway, and he’s lucky I didn't put him through a wall."

Lucas growled and grabbed at his hair. He swiped a hammer from the set of tools, and Kelsey and John took a step back, both ready to draw their guns.

Lucas gripped the handle so tight that his hand reddened, and Kelsey thought he might crush the thing in his hand. An image of Harold Kensington being hit on the back of the head sprung to her mind, but it didn't match the man before her. If Lucas had confronted him at the town hall, it would have been more than one blow to the back of the head, more than a clean stab through the heart. It would have been a bloodbath.

"Put it down!" John ordered, his hand on his gun.

Lucas also decided to throw the hammer at the fence, and the claw lodged itself in the wood. The foreman looked up from the hole, obviously annoyed, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to deal with Lucas in his current state. Lucas continued pacing but didn't pick up another tool.

"Lucas, your wife told us you weren’t home the night before last," John said. "Where were you?"

"What?" he spat.

"Two nights ago," John stated. "Where were you? You missed work yesterday and arrived home drunk in the afternoon."

Lucas turned and glared at John. He took a step toward him, then another, and one more until he was face to face with him. John stood his ground. Lucas reached up and took John's shoulders. Kelsey’s body tensed as she readied to step in.

"Do you know what it’s like to lose everything?" Lucas asked. "Everything! He thought he was doing a public service, but I lost it all because of him. My company; I almost lost my home; my wife will leave soon. My employees all lost their jobs. And look at me now! Relegated to working for someone else. Do you even understand what that is like?"

John lifted his hand and took Lucas’s hand from his shoulders. "Where were you?" he asked calmly.

"Away from her," Lucas said.

"Your wife?" Kelsey asked.

"She hates me, and I don't blame her. Nothing I do now is ever good enough for her, and I know it never will be. She blames me for everything."

If you were using substandard materials on jobs to save money, that’s on you.

"Where did you go?" Kelsey asked.

Lucas lost all his energy, just as his wife had when they spoke to her. Kelsey’s phone rang in her pocket, but she ignored it for now.

"I was at the lookout," he said. "It's over at Plowman's Hill. It looks out onto nothing. I don't know if I like it because I can think about nothing for a while or because that’s all I have in life. I took a case of beer and a jug of bourbon. Nothing better to drown your sorrows than alcohol."

"You were there all night?" John asked.

"Woke with the sunlight in my eyes and six missed calls from work," Lucas said as if proud of I. "I’ll lose this job, too."

"Do you have anyone who can confirm your whereabouts?" Kelsey asked.

"No one wants to be around me," Lucas said.

Kelsey’s phone rang again, and she stepped away to answer it this time, hoping the coroner had found something.

"Special Agent Hawk," she answered.

"Special Agent Hawk, my name is Officer Milton, and I am based in Riverton," a female voice said. It was suggested that I call you." There was a slight pause. "You were called in to investigate the murder of Harold Kensington in Millbrook. We, um, might have one of our own, and we were hoping you would come and take a look."

Kelsey looked at John and Lucas conversing. If there was a second dead body that had just been found, then Lucas Barrett had an alibi for one murderer, and if they could connect the two, he had an alibi for the other.

"We’re on our way," Kelsey said.

She hung up the phone and called to John, "We need to go! Lucas Barrett, don't leave town."

She should have seen it coming. To have presented the body to them so neatly was a sign from the killer that more were to come. She didn't know what it all meant yet but could feel it was connected. And if it was, then it might not be the end of the killings.

Chapter Eight

Riverton was the third small town they had visited in the last twenty-four hours, four if they counted their hometown of Winchburgh from where they had come the previous day.

Oakridge was roughly twenty miles east of Millbrook along the main highway, and Riverton was fifteen miles south of Oakridge along a secondary highway heading south of the state. Riverton was not a farming town like the previous two towns. It was built on a river around an old mill, which was still the focal point of the town. Tourism was the main industry, and around a hundred people a month diverted from the main highway to visit the old mill.

Most Riverton residents commuted to work in one of the small villages around it or in one of the larger cities. The city also had a large retirement community.

Kelsey marveled at the main street as they drove down it. It was almost a carbon copy of the main streets in Oakridge and Millbrook. They passed Angela’s Diner, and Kelsey made a mental note that they should stop for lunch afterward to discuss the case.

Their trip took them down the main street to a green space in the middle of the town. A large oak tree towered above manicured hedgerows and flower beds. Paths crisscrossed the green space, and to the right of one of the paths, visible from the road, stood a white tent to cover the body.

The forensic team had already got to work. Yellow tape cut a square of land in the middle of the green space to keep the public away, but no one had gathered. Pedestrians walked by slowly or lingered for a while, but there was nothing to see other than white-clad forensic officers coming and going from the tent.

John parked the truck, and they got out. Kelsey looked around to get a feel for the town. They had not looked at the body yet, but they were called in for a reason. The M.O. of both murders must be similar.

Were you ordered to call me by someone higher up, or did they not hear about it in time? How did someone hear about the first murder quickly enough to stop the forensic team from entering?

The murders might be similar, but the locations were not. The first body was found in the middle of the town hall, and the second was left outdoors. The first killing had a ceremonial feel to it because of the location. That wasn’t the case with this one. Kelsey took another look around. Was there something significant about the green space that made the murder ceremonial? Was there a religious connection because of the pose? Was this body posed in the same way?

John walked toward the crime scene first as Kelsey looked around, then she quickly caught up with him.

A uniformed officer spotted them as they approached the tent.

"I’m assuming you are Special Agent Hawk and Deputy Gallant," the officer said.

"From your voice, you must be Officer Milton," Kelsey replied.

"I am," the officer affirmed.

"You believe this might be the same killer as the Millbrook murder?" Kelsey asked.

"I believe so," Officer Milton replied. "Looks like the same cause of death, a stab wound to the heart, and the body is posed in the same way. Perhaps it’s a copycat killer, but I can't imagine someone around here being angry enough to kill and another being angry enough to copy it. It has to be the same person."

"Do you know the victim?" Kelsey asked.

"Martin Whitaker," the officer replied. "Sixty-seven years old—he owns the hardware store in town. The hardware store has been in his family for three generations, in one location or another."

"So, he’s Riverton born and bred?" John asked.

"He is. He lives here with his wife, and he has one daughter who also lives in town with her family. Martin’s son-in-law ran the hardware store. Martin was retired, but he still went into the store every day. It was his life."

"Have they been informed?" Kelsey asked.

"An officer is talking to them right now," Officer Milton replied. "We’re hoping to discover his movements last night. He was found early this morning, but we don't know yet when he was killed. It must have been sometime during the night. We don't know what time that was—the town goes to sleep early. I would assume it was after midnight, or the killer might have been seen. The question is, what was Martin Whitaker doing out late at night? Was he meeting someone? Was he taking a walk?"

To their left was a bed of bright red roses. The aroma was far too pleasant for what lay within the tent. Red roses were for love; they did not fit the macabre crime scene.

"When you find out from his family, I want to know," Kelsey said.

"Of course," the officer said.

"We’ll take a look now," Kelsey said.

The officer went to the tent and informed the team inside that Kelsey was there. They exited, casting reverent looks toward the FBI agent. Once the tent was vacated, Kelsey and John went inside. Kelsey cast a quick glance at the man on the ground before going to one of the forensic cases and grabbing some gloves for her and John. Then, she studied the body properly.

Martin Whitaker looked at peace. His eyes and mouth were closed, and his skin still had a pinkness to it. He had not been dead long, but he was dead. There was something about the way he lay, almost as if he was sinking into himself. Kelsey always felt there was an aura surrounding dead bodies that called out and told you the person was dead.

"Almost identical," Kelsey said to John.

He nodded.

The men themselves were not identical. Martin was a little younger than Harold and much larger, even though death seemed to shrink him. Kelsey noticed that dead bodies always looked smaller than when they were alive, even though their size didn't change. Harold had worn a suit, while Martin wore light blue jeans, a button-down shirt, and a short jacket that went down to his waist.

Your uniform for working in the hardware store during your retirement?

They were different in how they dressed but identical in how they were posed in death. Martin’s legs were crossed at the ankles, and his arms stuck out at right angles to his body.

"Another crucifixion?" John asked.

"Another purposeful presentation," she replied.

Kelsey crouched down next to the body. She didn't have to feel around his head. The dried blood on the side of his head told of the blow to subdue him. His jacket had been opened, and blood stained the interior as it did on his chest.

It looks like one of the roses just outside the tent. There is a beauty in it, as awful as that sounds.

Kelsey picked up the left front panel of the dead man’s jacket. "No hole," she noted. "He was stabbed, and the jacket was closed back over him like with the first victim. We have to assume he was placed here after being hit on the head, and then the killer loosened his jacket, moving the panel out of the way before stabbing Martin in the heart. Then, the killer replaces the jacket. There is something ceremonial about the way they are killed and placed."

"But we don't know to what end?" John asked.

"No," Kelsey replied.

She stood up and took off her gloves, dropping them in the small disposal bin. Then, she and John left the tent and found Officer Milton.

"Do you know of any link between Martin Whitaker and Harold Kensington?" Kelsey asked.

"I don’t," the officer replied.

"How about with anyone from the council in Millbrook or any link to Millbrook at all?" Kelsey tried.

"I can't think of one, but I can do some digging."

"Please," Kelsey replied.

"I can give you the use of my office if you’d like to hang around town for a while," Officer Milton said.

"That’s generous, and we might take you up on that at some point," Kelsey replied. "For now, we’ll head to the diner for some coffee. You can find us there if you need to tell us anything."

"Alright," the officer said.

Kelsey and John headed back toward the vehicle.

"We have two dead bodies, and we are no closer to figuring out why they are dead or why the killer arranged them in that way," John noted.

"No, we don't, but we know the killer is acting hastily. We have two dead bodies in two days. I hope that doesn't mean we are presented with another body tomorrow. We’ll wait for the autopsy to come back, but I can't imagine it tells us anything new unless the killer made a mistake and left us something. For now, I want to look into Martin Whitaker and find some connection to Harold Kensington. Harold was on the town council. Martins’s family have been in this town for generations. Two people were killed who grew up in small towns. Perhaps Martin had influence in this town in the same way that Harold had influence in his."

They were almost at John’s truck when a small man with a briefcase approached them at speed. His eyebrows were raised, and he had one hand in the air to hail them.

"You’re the FBI agent, aren’t you?" he called.

Kelsey stopped in her tracks. "Special Agent Hawk." She indicted John. "My partner, Deputy Gallant."

"Good, I caught you," he said. "I thought it after the first one, but this one only confirms it. They are roses, aren’t they?"

"What?" Kelsey asked.

"Roses!" the man said excitedly. "Don't you see?"

"Take a step back," John said as the man got close.

"What are you talking about?" Kelsey asked.

"I know why the bodies are placed where they are placed."

Chapter Nine

"Come on, come with me," the man said excitedly.

He didn’t wait for them to respond and took off toward the center of town. John looked at her as if the man was crazy, and while it did very much feel like that, Kelsey wanted to discover what the man knew. She looked at John, raised her eyebrows, and then took off after the man. John had no option but to follow.

Kelsey had to work to catch up to the man. Although he was small and took only small steps, he moved as if speed-walking. At one point, while pursuing him, Kelsey almost broke into a run, and even when she caught up to him, it was hard to stay alongside him.

"You know why the bodies are positioned as they are? Or where they are?" Kelsey asked, starting to lose her breath as they moved as fast as they could without running.

"I would love to see the crime scene photos, but they are likely not ready yet, and you wouldn’t want a civilian to see them anyway, but I hope you’ll describe them to me. It makes sense if Harold Kensington was found in the oval room of the town hall in Millbrook. It’s almost certain with Martin being in the Memorial Gardens. It was Martin, wasn’t it? There are lots of rumors swirling around, and you can never be sure."

"How about we start with who you are?" Kelsey asked.

"Of course, how rude of me," he replied. "I know who you are, and you know nothing of me." He suddenly stopped in the street, and John almost barged into the back of him. "Special Agent Hawk," he said, pointing at Kelsey. He pointed at John. "Sheriff’s Deputy Gallant. All present and correct?"

Kelsey nodded.

"My name is Peter Burke, and I am a licensed surveyor here in Riverton." Peter stood before them for a second after the introduction before he took off walking at speed again.

Kelsey wanted to look at John with an expression that said: What the heck is going on? There was no time. She took off again first, with John following quickly after. She caught back up to Peter and didn't have to walk alongside him for long before he stopped at a glass door in the large brick building. He opened the locked door and held it for Kelsey and John.

Kelsey looked up at the building.

Professional Offices.

The sign didn't give a lot away, but Peter had informed them he was a licensed surveyor, so it made sense for his office to be in the building. Peter looked excited. Kelsey had a question she wanted to ask but decided to pass through the door and let Peter tell them his information in his own time. If he wanted to tell them sooner, he would have already. There was no doubt he was excited about what he had, but it had to be presented in the right way.

Once Kelsey and John were in the building, Peter entered and let the door close behind him. He pointed up the stairs and took the lead again. They went up two floors before coming to a door with Peter’s name on it.

Peter Burke

Licensed Surveyor.

Peter pushed the door open and invited them into his office. He looked around the room, expecting to find someone else in there.

Half of the office was taken up by two desks. One desk had a hefty PC on and under it, and the other desk had a slim laptop.

Peter caught Kelsey looking at the desks. "I am training an intern," he explained. "I don't know where they are right now."

A large pot plant sat in the corner to the left of the window. The sun wasn’t shining on it at the moment, but from the current angle of the sun, it would be bathed in light during the early morning. The other half of the office was filled with shelving units. The top shelves of the units were filled with rolled-up papers—some small and some substantial. Boxes and documents filled the remainder of the shelves.

Peter reached up to tap a few of the larger rolls, running his hand along them as he navigated the three sides of the shelves with himself in the middle. He was barely tall enough to reach them without standing on tiptoes.

"Yes," he said, grabbing one roll between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled it down and stood it in the corner where two shelves met. It took him ten seconds to find what he was looking for. "Come over here," he said without looking around.

Peter reached toward the shelf facing him, the one without a shelf opposite, and he pulled on what looked like the shelf but was actually a pull-out work surface. He pulled it out and attached it to the shelves on either side to create a tabletop. He took up the two rolls and unrolled the first before unrolling the second atop it.

"This is Millbrook," he said, tapping the map.

Kelsey and John closed in and leaned over the map. It took Kelsey a moment to orient herself on the map, trying to place herself within it from her limited knowledge of the town. She found the main highway and followed the road they entered the town on. Still, she wasn't sure where the town hall was. If he had brought out a map of the town, she could only assume it was connected to the murder.

Peter pulled out a pencil from behind his ear, something Kelsey had not noticed until he reached for it. He pressed the eraser side to the map.

"The town hall," Peter stated.

Kelsey smiled. She wanted to find it herself, but that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

Peter flipped his pencil to draw on the map. The town hall building was nothing more than a small rectangle on the map.

"I’ve been to the Millbrook town hall many times." He drew a small oval within the rectangle. "That is roughly where the oval room is. Now, where was Harold Kensington positioned within this room?"

John looked at Kelsey with a frown.

"Please," Peter said. "I have to know to confirm the theory. We confirm it with this one, and if we can correlate that with the murder not two hundred yards from here, we know we are on the right track."

It sounded as if the three of them were working on the investigation and not Kelsey and John only.

One thing Kelsey was fairly sure about was that the killer would not stroll up to them while they were at a crime scene and tell them he knew why the bodies were positioned as they were. It wasn’t impossible, but the chances were slim.

"I don't remember exactly," Kelsey said.

"He was on the floor with his arms outstretched," Peter said. "These are small towns; everyone knows everything. You were in the room with the body. Do you remember the murals on the wall?"

"I remember there were murals," Kelsey said.

Kelsey hoped Peter Burke knew the room's details because he had been there multiple times and not because he was the killer. He acted very much like a man who was obsessed with things. Still, she was sure the killer would not get as close to them.

"There is one mural with a man standing by a creek. He is wearing a tall black hat and has medals pinned to his chest. Do you remember that one?"

"Yes," Kelsey said. "Vaguely."

"That is Lord Millbrook, the town's founder, though his status as a lord is hotly contested. The town was founded as a military camp, and that is steeped in mystery as the people from the area didn't engage in wars at the time either, so I have no idea why they—"

"We have two dead bodies," John interjected.

"Yes, of course," Peter said. "So, we have the mural of Lord Millbrook on one wall, and on the direct opposite wall, there is a mural of three cows and a horse. Do you know the walls I am talking about?"

"I think so." Kelsey closed her eyes and put herself back in the oval room. "Yes, I know the walls you are talking about."

"Good," Peter said. "Now, where was the body laid in relation to the walls? The head and feet and both arms."

Kelsey took a moment before she opened her eyes. She pointed in one direction. "So, the lord is on this wall"—then the opposite direction—" and the animals there. The body was laid this way." She drew an imaginary line on the floor. "And the arms this way." She drew a line intersecting the first.

"Yes, just as I thought," Peter said. He transposed Kelsey’s gestural drawing onto the map, drawing a cross shape within the oval. "See? A rose!"

"Explain it to us," Kelsey said, becoming a little impatient.

"It’s a compass rose," Peter said. "Whenever you see compass points marked in the corner of the map, the drawn shape is referred to as a rose. The sharp points that point toward north, south, east, and west, and also the one of two points between each cardinal direction, form a rose—a jagged representation. Look, there is one in the corner of this map."

Kelsey hadn’t noticed it until Peter pointed it out. The jagged points on the emblem were vaguely floral, even if they didn’t form a perfect rose.

"A rose," Kelsey said.

"And look," Peter pointed out. "Look at the directions on the rose at the bottom corner and the rudimentary rose I drew in the oval room."

"They point in the same directions," Kelsey said.

"Exactly," Peter replied. "Exactly right, and in the exact directions if the information you gave me is correct. Now, let’s look at the second death."

Peter kept the map of Millbrook unrolled and pulled the second map from under it, placing it on top. Kelsey had spent only minutes in Riverton, so she assumed the map was of the town.

Peter again pointed to the map and tapped it on the eraser of his pencil. "This is the Memorial Garden. Now, most people assume that the main street in a town is the center of the town, and most of the time, the town is built from the center out to a certain point. However, while it might be the hub, it is often not the case. The geographical center of a town is dependent on the town boundaries. Millbrook had it right by building the town hall in the geographical center of the town, and we have the Memorial Gardens, though it was not planned to be built in the exact center. More of a fortuitous mistake."

Peter drew a square around the green space where they had viewed the body. Then, he asked, "Now, where was the body positioned here?"

Kelsey closed her eyes once more. This time, it was a little more difficult. The area was larger, with no distinct landmarks, and she had to compare the position of the body within the tent with the position of the tent within the green space.

"Alright," she started, moving her arms around. "The green space is around us, and the two pathways run this way and that way, crisscrossing around here. The large oak tree is there, and the rose garden is right there. The tent is over here, and the body was lying… this way, with the arms pointing like that."

"Good, good, good," Peter said. "So, he is lying like this." Once more, Peter drew a small cross within the larger shape. We can amend this as needed, but look at the compass rose in the bottom corner compared to what was just drawn."

Kelsey and John completed the task for the second time. They matched again.

"Peter, how did you know about this?" Kelsey asked.

"I’ve been looking at maps my entire adult life, and I just know them," Peter admitted. "When someone mentioned that Harold Kensington was laid out with his arms stretched out to each side, I immediately knew it was compass points. It was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that made sense to me."

"We’re glad it did," Kelsey said.

"We can discount religion," John said. "We know the bodies were posed, and we know what they were posed for, but we don't know why."

"Two locals," Kelsey continued. "Both grew up in the town they were murdered in and then posed at the geographical center of the town, pointing in four exact directions like a human compass. Peter, I want you to do something for me."

"Anything you want, Special Agent Hawk," he said.

"Look at the local area as a whole. Do you have a map with both towns and the surrounding area?"

"Yes, of course," he replied.

"I want you to study that map and mark the two deaths," Kelsey said. "I wonder if it is part of the bigger picture. If each body is laid out to point in the four directions, what if the plan is for four murders, with each body encompassing one of the compass points to form a diamond? Peter, see if you can plot our points based on the two deaths so far. If we can pinpoint two more towns in close proximity, we might know where he plans to strike next."

"Anything you need," Peter said, giddy to be a part of it.

"You can consult for us, so you will be recompensed for your time," Kelsey said. "The quicker you find what we are looking for, the better."

She didn't say the last part out loud.

With this killer, we might be working in hours and not days or weeks.

Chapter Ten

Kelsey and John left Peter Burke in his office and headed for the police station. It didn't take them long to find Officer Milton after they entered. The small building was completely open once you stepped inside, apart from a small door at the rear of the police station that, by the size of the building exterior, Kelsey surmised, led to a bathroom or break room—perhaps both.

A line of chairs lined the inside wall by the door, creating a small waiting area. An older woman sat in one of the chairs. Glancing at Kelsey and John, she looked back down at the floor.

There didn't look to be any holding cells or interview rooms—there was no real need for them. Kelsey liked the station; there was something to be said for complete transparency. Between them and the door at the back of the building were six desks arranged in pairs. Three of them were occupied, and a fourth person stood by one of the desks: Officer Milton. She raised a hand and beckoned them in.

"Do you want to set up in here?" Officer Milton asked.

"We will for now," Kelsey said. "Do you have anything else yet?"

Officer Milton waited for Kelsey and John to get to her before lowering her voice and saying, "His wife is over there."

Kelsey didn't have to look around when the officer gestured with her head. They had spotted the woman when they entered.

"She informed us she won't leave until we find who killed her husband," the officer continued. "We’ve taken a statement from her, and she believes someone lured him out last night to kill him."

"She said that to you?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes."

"Alright, I want to talk with her and see what she knows," Kelsey told the officer. "Is there a better place to talk with her than the waiting area over there?"

"I’ll move Officer Grant from the corner desk, and you can set up there if you like," the officer said. "That’ll give you the most privacy."

Kelsey nodded. She approached Martin’s wife while John went with Officer Milton to help get set up.

"Mrs. Whitaker?" Kelsey asked.

The woman looked up. Her eyes were not red—she had not cried recently, if at all. The look in her eyes was one Kelsey had seen before in her line of work. Mrs. Whitaker wanted justice for her husband, and when she found out what had happened to him, she would allow herself to grieve.

"I’m Special Agent Hawk from the FBI." Kelsey hoped the title would convince the dead man’s wife that something was being done about it. "I’d like to talk to you about your husband. Would you mind talking with us over there?" She looked around and pointed to where John shifted the desk a little.

"They say he was killed just like the Councilman in Milbrook," Mrs. Whitaker muttered.

"Who said that?" Kelsey asked.

"Everyone. No one. I hear them all whispering," Mrs. Whitaker said. "The Councilman was stabbed in the heart yesterday, wasn’t he? Is that how my Martin died?"

She had no intention of leaving the seat she was in. Mrs. Whitaker wanted her husband’s killer caught, and she needed information to tell her something was being done at that moment.

"We won't know the specifics until the autopsy comes back, but I believe the same person killed him," Kelsey informed her.

Mrs. Whitaker nodded and gave a tight smile. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"I will try to do that as much as I can," Kelsey said. "There might be some things we can't reveal about the investigation, but when we can, you will be the first to know, and I will have Officer Milton call you directly. Does that sound fair?"

Mrs. Whitaker nodded again. "Yes, it does."

"I know you spoke to an officer already and gave your statement, but would you mind talking to me about it, too."

"No, I don't mind," she replied.

"You said in your statement that your husband was lured out last night."

"Yes, he was," Mrs. Whitaker said. "I don't know who lured him out, but whoever did wanted to get him alone to kill him."

"Who would want to do that?" Kelsey asked.

"I asked them about the Councilman," Mrs. Whitaker said. "He didn't want outsiders coming into our town and taking over our business, driving prices up and people out. Martin was the same. He believed the town should be for the people. A lot of us believed that. But Martin was… more outspoken than most."

"What do you mean by that?" Kelsey asked.

"He told people exactly what he thought of them," Mrs. Whitaker said. "He didn't ever hold back, but he only ever spoke the truth. He knew what was right for us and said it how he saw it."

"And you think he got into trouble for something he said?" Kelsey asked.

"Why would someone kill him over something he said?" Mrs. Whitaker asked. "What sort of person does that? Just because Martin protested against these big stores coming in, that’s no reason to kill someone. They are so bloodthirsty for profits to satisfy their evil shareholders that they will do anything to get what they want. What’s one local townsperson to them? They want to come in here and dazzle us with their big, shiny stores, and they know people will soon forget about Martin when they can offer slightly lower prices than our good farmers and craftsmen and then jack up the prices once everyone is out of business and has to leave town."

"Let’s take a second," Kelsey said. Mrs. Whitaker was becoming agitated. "I know the sentiment is shared by a lot of people in both towns, and there are supporters, too. What I need to know is if anyone from one of these large companies contacted your husband specifically."

"Like I said, they must have been the ones who lured him out," Mrs. Whitaker said.

"He told you this before he left the house last night?"

"He didn't tell me that exactly," Mrs. Whitaker replied. "Martin told me he had to go out for a while and he would be back soon. It was late, and I went to bed, and that was the last thing he ever said to me."

"He didn't tell you where he was going or who he was meeting?" Kelsey asked.

"If he did, I would have said that already."

"Did he have his phone with him?" Kelsey asked.

"He always carried it."

Kelsey took out her notebook and made a note to check with the forensic team if they found a phone on the body. That might tell them who he was meeting.

"Oh, that’s… no," Mrs. Whitaker said.

"What is it?" Kelsey asked.

"You’re looking for his phone, aren’t you? But maybe…"

"What?" Kelsey repeated.

"When it came to business, he either called or emailed. I don't remember him making a call that night." Mrs. Whitaker brought a finger to her lips. "I would have heard the call in the house. I can bring in his laptop for you to look at. Would that help?"

"That would help very much," Kelsey confirmed. Please go back home, retrieve the laptop, and bring it to me as quickly as you can."

Mrs. Whitaker shot up, a fierce look in her eyes. She wanted to know that something was being done about her husband’s murder, and now, she could be a part of it. She nodded at Kelsey before leaving the police station.

Kelsey walked across the room to rejoin John and Officer Milton. "Martin Whitaker might have made contact with the person who killed him before he went out last night. We’ll know more when his wife returns. She also informed me that Martin was very outspoken when it came to the town. He organized some protests?"

"It sounds more radical than it is," Officer Milton replied. "We don't have a town council here like in Milbrook, so all decisions are left to a public vote. There have been various businesses over the years that have wanted to establish in town, and Martin has spoken out about all of them. More recently, he has staged protests when representatives have come to town. Nothing that has gotten out of hand. Mainly following them around and drowning them out while they tried to speak publicly or meet with the townspeople one-on-one."

"Just by himself?" John asked.

"No, he usually gets a small group together," Officer Milton replied. "We know everyone in town, and we know these are good people, but we have a presence when anything like that forms. It’s never gotten out of hand, and so far, it has proven very effective. The two people have voted against any outside businesses moving one, and"—the officer smiled—"it really ticks them off. Say what you want about playing dirty in business, but there’s nothing more annoying than someone shouting louder than you when you’re trying to speak."

"Can you think of anyone in particular who got annoyed by Martin Whitaker?" Kelsey asked.

"I mean, they all got annoyed, but I can't see anyone resorting to murder because Martin Whitaker was shouting loudly. Getting punched by someone who snapped, I could see that, but these people have bigger fish to fry."

"I’d like to know which businesses overlapped between the two towns," Kelsey said. "Have you heard of NextTown?"

"I haven’t," the officer said. "Who are they?"

"They wanted to redevelop Millbrook, and the vote, a vote which we believed would have been against the development, was scheduled for the afternoon on the day Harold Kensington was murdered."

"We would have heard about that if they were trying the same here," Officer Milton said.

"Alright," Kelsey said as her phone rang. "Let’s see if we can find any businesses that were shot down by both towns. Then, I want to know whether there are any businesses that Harold Kensington voted against and Martin Whitaker also protested against."

John and Officer Milton both nodded and got to work while Kelsey answered her phone.

"Special Agent Hawk," she answered,

"Special Agent Hawk, it’s Peter Burke."

"Tell me you have some good news for me," Kelsey said.

"I’m afraid not," he said. "No matter which way I look at it, there are no towns that line up to present four compass points. I mean, you can really stretch the points out, but if the bodies were positioned exactly to point in the four compass directions, then there should be four towns lined up exactly or pretty close."

"But there’s not," Kelsey said, disappointed. If four towns lined up, they might know where to look next.

"No, there’s not. No perfect diamond or even an approximation," Peter replied. "I can find you numerous triangles, but I don't know if that helps at all."

"It might," Kelsey said. It was all they had for now. "Get me a list of towns that fit into triangles with Millbrook and Riverton, and get back to me."

"Will do." Peter hung up without saying goodbye.

Kelsey sat at the desk that had been cleared for her. She was about to take her laptop out of her bag to join the search when Mrs. Whitaker reentered the station with a laptop clutched under her arm like a handbag. She caught Kelsey’s eyes and rushed straight over.

"Here it is," she said. "He always used Linkmail.

Kelsey placed the laptop on the desk, opened it, and waited a few seconds for the CPU to come out of sleep mode. She did note the red battery icon in the bottom right-hand corner and hoped Mrs. Whitaker also brought the charging cable.

She opened a browser and typed Linkmail into the search bar, clicking on the link when it popped up. The browser automatically logged into Martin’s email account. Another glance at the battery icon showed they were nearly out of juice.

Kelsey manipulated the laptop at speed, going into Martin’s inbox and scanning for the previous day and any times throughout the evening. One email caught her eye.

We Need To Talk: EvansC76@zmail.com

Kelsey clicked on the message and read the thread.

Martin,

We are ramping up for another go at your town. What can I do to get you on my side with this one? Change is inevitable, and I would rather we did this amicably.

Christian Evans

——————————————————————————————————————

Christian,

I look forward to seeing you back in town. I thought it went splendid last time. You don't have anywhere near the numbers you need to push this through. How about you come over to my side and leave us the heck alone?

Martin W.

——————————————————————————————————————

Martin,

I’m sorry to hear you feel that way. Don't delay what your town needs. How about we meet face-to-face?

Christian Evans

——————————————————————————————————————

Christian,

I don't need to see you again. You can come to town if you want, but they won't listen to you a second time.

Martin R.

——————————————————————————————————————

Martin,

I'm passing through this evening. I think I know what will change your mind. If you'll hear me out, I can be very percussive. You’ll be the first to hear this, and that means you can soften the blow when it comes. You come out of this looking good, but it’s a one-time opportunity. I can speak to others.

Christian Evans

——————————————————————————————————————

Christian,

When and where?

Martin R.

——————————————————————————————————————

Tonight, 11 pm, The Memorial Gardens. I don't want to sound like a Soviet spy, but the information is sensitive, so please come alone.

Christian Evans.

——————————————————————————————————————

"We need to find Christian Evans," Kelsey said. "We need to find him right now!"

Chapter Eleven

Christian Evans was easy to track down, but he was hard to get a hold of. They called his work and personal lines, and a different personal assistant answered both. They tried to speak directly with Christian Evans, but he was either too busy to come to the phone, or he was not around. No amount of pressure from Kelsey got her on a direct call with him. The only thing to do in the end was to travel to where he was to get a face-to-face meeting with him.

That was how Kelsey and John found themselves in Fargo later that night.

"We know where he will be tomorrow morning," Kelsey said. "I still don't know if he’s avoiding our calls because he’s guilty or if he’s playing the big important businessman and thinks it makes him look powerful."

They stood on either side of the double bed.

"I would have liked to have tracked him down to a hotel and confronted him now, but he’s a hard man to find," John said. "Do you think he will be at the meeting tomorrow morning if he knows we are coming for him?"

"We have to hope he is," Kelsey said. "Either he’s there, and we get to talk with him, or he leaves town, and we take it as an admission of guilt. He’s too high profile to get far without being spotted, and he’s not powerful enough to make himself disappear."

"So, we know for sure he wanted to bring big-box retailers into both towns," John said. "Not only them but multiple small towns across the state. He’s been successful with some, and it feels like a numbers game. He tries with as many towns as he can and only needs to get a few to give in to him."

"He works mainly on commission," Kelsey confirmed. "He secures the real estate for the businesses coming into the small towns and takes a fee from that. In the past, he’s negotiated the sale of land and buildings and organized new builds in small towns. Occasionally, he acts as the agent for the seller and doubles his fee. Millbrook and Riverton were two of the towns where he failed, and Harold and Martin likely had some say in that."

"And we know he was in the area when Martin Whitaker was killed," John said.

"But not Harold Kensington," Kelsey noted. "We have him driving to Fargo last night, according to his assistant, and the route took him close to Riverton. He could have stopped in there. However, we can't yet place him anywhere near Millbrook the day before that."

Unless the assistant lied to us," John replied.

Kelsey lifted the blankets and got into the bed. It sank a little more in the middle than anywhere else.

"Why lie to us about where he was for one murder and not the other?" she asked.

John joined her in the bed, and she felt the warmth emanating from him.

"I’ve been thinking about that," John said as he fluffed up his pillows behind him. "What if this is a conglomerate? We’re trying to find one business linked to both towns, but what do the towns have in common? They both rejected multiple businesses. What if those companies came together and took matters into their own hands? You take care of the person in that town, and I’ll take care of the person in this town. Then, we can get on with taking over the state."

"I don't know," Kelsey said. "If that were the case, they would work together to give themselves alibis, but we don't have that with Christian Evans. I hope you are wrong, John. I can't think of anything more worrying than multiple companies coming together to slowly kill influential people in small towns."

John shimmied down in the bed, stretching out his legs. Kelsey rolled onto her side and lay her head on John’s shoulder, draping her arm across his chest. He tilted his head and kissed her on the forearm.

"Are we going to be okay?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah," John said. "I’m still annoyed at you for not telling me what was happening, but… yeah. I’ll be less annoyed at you when you are clear of any danger. For now, I just want to solve these murders and then get back home to deal with the people who took Erica from you. I’m putting myself in danger to get you out of danger, and you can't do anything about that."

Kelsey kissed John’s chest. "I love you."

There was a pause before he kissed her on the top of the head. "I love you, too."

***

Kelsey felt self-conscious as she stood with her back to the brick wall, one leg bent and the sole of one boot resting on the wall. She felt she looked like a cliche as they waited outside the office building for Christian Evans to arrive.

John looked at his watch as they waited. Christian was scheduled to meet with a group of investors in the conference room of the hotel at nine am, so they had gotten there at seven to be sure of catching him. They didn’t know how early he would arrive. They had checked inside the hotel when they first arrived, but Christian hadn’t arrived yet.

"What time is it?" Kelsey asked.

"Eight twenty-two," John replied.

"A little over half an hour to see if he turns up," Kelsey noted. "I hope he does."

Christian Evans turned up ten minutes later. A black sedan pulled up at the front of the hotel, and Christian Evans and a young woman exited the vehicle and walked toward the hotel.

"Mr. Evans," Kelsey said, showing her badge. "Special Agent Hawk. We want a word with you."

"I’m very busy," Christian said. "How about you schedule an appointment."

"Or we can carry this on inside, Mr. Evans," Kelsey said. "We’d be much more comfortable in there. You have the conference room booked, don't you?"

Christian stopped walking. "What do you want?"

"To ask you a few questions about the death of Martin Whitaker," Kelsey informed him.

"Who?" Christian replied.

"The man who hounded you out of Riverton when you tried to pitch a commercial venture last time you were there," Kelsey told him. "The man you got back in contact with a few days ago."

"I didn’t… this is about a murder?" Christian asked.

"Yes," Kelsey replied. "I want to know where you were last night."

Christian swiveled his head to look up and down the street. "Let’s take this inside. I can't have the investors see me speaking to a federal agent, or they’ll think something is wrong." Christian paused before adding, "Which would be untrue and unfounded. I’m sure the hotel has a room we can use, and then we can all go our separate ways."

Kelsey held out her palm to instruct Christian Evans to lead the way. She and John followed him into the hotel. Christian Evans was a handsome and well-dressed man. He was the middle man between two parties, and first impressions meant everything. People trusted handsome men more, and Christian had that going for him.

He wore a navy blue three-piece suit without a tie, and the top button of his cream shirt was undone. His shoes were shined, the suit immaculately pressed, and his black hair waxed. Kelsey imagined he used the word "bro" a lot and gestured with his hands when giving a pitch.

Christian spoke with the woman at the front desk, the young woman who had exited the car, staying by his side the entire time. He then led the special agent and deputy sheriff to a small meeting room down the hallway from the main desk.

"We’d prefer to talk to you alone," Kelsey said when the young woman joined them.

"Stacey is my personal assistant," Christian told them. "I’d like to have her here so she can take notes and my words can't be twisted at a later date."

"Alright," Kelsey said. "Where were you last night, Mr. Evans?"

"I was at another hotel here in Fargo," he replied. "I checked in a little after one this morning."

"And before that?" Kelsey asked.

"I was on the road for about five hours," he replied. "I had a meeting in a small town on the other side of the state. It was a waste of time. The guy didn't show."

"That must have been annoying," John said.

"Very," Christian replied. "Not annoying enough to want to murder someone in another town. Where was it you said this happened?"

"Riverton," John replied.

"Yeah, I think I remember going there sometime in the past. Haven’t been there for months."

"So, you weren’t there last night?" John asked.

"No, I don't think so. We drove from Brighton to Fargo and stopped for a late bite in a diner on the highway. Where was that, Stacey?"

"Lemmington," she replied. "I have the receipts from the diner."

"Can you take a look at this map," Kelsey said, showing her phone. "The route you took last night, as confirmed by Stacey on the phone yesterday, took you a few miles from Riverton."

Stacey leaned in, too. "That’s after Lemmington. We didn't stop after we ate."

"You’re sure?" Kelsey asked.

"No, we definitely didn't stop," Stacey said. "It was a long drive, and we wanted to get to Fargo as soon as possible so Mr. Evans could sleep. The driver will also confirm that."

Kelsey looked at Christian.

"It was a long drive," he said. "Can I go now?"

"Not yet," Kelsey said. "We have email correspondence between you and Martin Whitaker in the days leading up to his death. You arranged to meet him last night in the place where he was killed. Care to comment on that?"

"I never contacted him, let alone arranged to meet him," Christian said.

"Let me check," Stacey said. "I manage all of Mr. Evans’ accounts." Stacey flicked her finger up and down and left and right on her tablet. "There have been no communications between Mr. Evans and Mr. Whitaker. I can take you through all Mr. Evans’ messages over the past forty-eight hours."

"I have nothing to hide," Christian said.

Kelsey pulled the copy of the emails up on her phone and showed the phone to Christian Evans. He took the phone from her and studied the emails.

"That’s not me," he said. "That’s not my email address. Someone obviously set it up to look like me."

"You didn't send those emails?" John pushed.

"No, I didn't. Besides, I have an alibi for last night. I was with Stacey the entire time. And it wouldn’t make sense anyway. EvansC76. I was born in seventy-eight. They obviously wanted my name and went with the first available one. These emails are not from me."

"So, you’re not planning to take another run at Riverton?" John asked.

"No, not at all. I’m done with that place now. Everyone knows they are moving in."

"What do you mean?" Kelsey asked.

"Firstly, I have a much bigger project in mind, which might become more complex if I don't get to the conference soon. We’re building a large shopping plaza on the outskirts of Fargo. Secondly, that’s where NextTown is going."

"NextTown?" Kelsey asked. "They’re not going into Riverton."

"Then you know something I don't because one of their associates called me a week ago to get information on the town. My bid almost went through months ago, and you are right; Martin Whitaker was the one who ended it for me, but there are plenty more fish in the sea."

"Someone from NextTown called you?" Kelsey pushed.

"Yeah. They wanted to know about the people there and who might be malleable." Christian leaned forward and linked his fingers together. "I’m guessing this is a case of destroying the enemy from within. Sorry, enemy might not be the right word. Usually, big companies can go in and wave their cash around. I’m guessing that if no one in Riverton knows there is a bid, it’s already a done deal."

Kelsey tapped her fingers gently on the table.

"So, can I go now?" Christian asked.

"We’ll still need a formal interview from you and your assistant, but yes, you can go," Kelsey said.

They waited until Christian and Stacey had left the room before John said, "Harold was killed on the morning of the NextTown vote, and they were engaging in a quiet takeover of Riverton. I think we just found our prime suspect."

Chapter Twelve

The NextTown head offices were much easier to find than Christian Evans, and he had not been particularly hard to find. A quick search revealed that the NextTown head offices were located in Fargo. Kelsey and John got back in the truck and drove over there, a short five-minute drive from the hotel where they talked with Christian. A stop for coffee doubled the commute time.

The NextTown head office was in the core of downtown Fargo. Much of Fargo had been updated, but the large building towering over the others looked like it had been built that morning and only just had the plastic wrap removed.

They took their coffees from the truck and entered the large building. Ninety percent of the ground floor was empty. The front of the building was glass, and the other three walls were concrete, giving it a brutalist feel. A large reception desk stretched across half the back wall, and two elevators, one on each side, filled the rest of the space.

Kelsey and John walked from the front door to the reception desk, almost feeling that the walk from the door took longer than the drive from the hotel.

"Good morning, and welcome to NextTown," the receptionist said with a practiced smile and tone. "What can we do for you today?"

Two cameras behind the woman pointed down at the reception desk and anyone who stood there.

Kelsey took out her badge. "We’d like to talk to someone about the NextTown developments in Millbrook and Riverton."

"Of course," the receptionist said politely. "Let me call our public relations officer."

She reached for the phone when it rang. Her eyebrows lifted slightly before falling into place. "Excuse me one moment," she told Kelsey and John. Then she answered the phone. "NextTown, what can we do for you today?"

Kelsey expected motivational quotes in large letters or artwork behind the reception desk, but there was only concrete.

"Of course," the receptionist said. "I’ll send them up right away. Thank you, Sir." The receptionist held her smile, but her eyes showed a mild look of surprise. "You can go right up. Mr. Wells will see you immediately."

"Cameron Wells?" John asked.

The receptionist smiled. "Yes, Cameron Wells. The CEO of NextTown."

Kelsey looked up at the cameras behind the reception desk, feeling like she was looking into the eyes of Cameron Wells somewhere up above.

"Twelfth floor," the receptionist said. "You can go right on up."

Kelsey looked away from the camera and headed for the elevator. She pressed the button outside, and the doors opened immediately. She and John got in, and John pushed the button for the twelfth floor. The doors closed, and the elevator moved.

"What does this all mean?" John asked.

"He was watching us up there," Kelsey said. "I don't know if he knew we were coming or if he watches everyone entering his building. He could have fobbed us off to someone else, his press officer, or someone lower down the management chain, but he wanted to speak to us personally."

"To control the narrative?" John asked.

"Perhaps."

After a quick ride, the doors opened. A suited man was waiting for them by the elevator door. He wore the same color suit and shirt as Christian Evans, but there was something about his attire and the look of his suit that instantly drew the eye and described his immense wealth.

"You must be Special Agent Hawk," the man said, holding out a hand to Kelsey. He did the same to John after Kelsey shook his hand. "And you must be Deputy Gallant. It is a pleasure to meet you both. I’m Cameron Wells, the man behind this whole operation. Why don't we find somewhere to sit and talk?"

Cameron led them further into the top floor of the building. The main area was as open plan as the group floor, and ample seating areas dotted the floor. Three rooms were framed with glass, showing an office within each. There was a ping pong table off to the right of the top floor, a vending machine next to it, and an espresso bar. Kelsey noticed there was no sign of a bathroom.

"Coffee?" Cameron asked. "Let me guess." He pointed to Kelsey. "Double espresso?" Then to John. "Americano, perhaps a little cream and sugar?"

"Alright," John said.

Cameron clapped his hands together and went to the espresso machine, grinding coffee with a buzzing sound into the portafilter before he attached it to the espresso machine. He was not handsome nor ugly; he was a plain individual with lots of money, which made a person more attractive in most cases.

"I grew up on the outskirts of Fargo," Cameron said as he removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "I left home at sixteen to make my own way in the world. I’m not like other billionaires. I don't claim to have made it by myself after receiving a multi-million dollar handout from Daddy. I left home at sixteen without a penny to my name, and I built and built until I built this."

Cameron held his hands out to the side, talking about the company and not only the building. He took the shot glasses of freshly poured espresso and tipped them into a small cup, handing it to Kelsey before he started the process again to make an americano for John.

"When I built this company, I knew it was time to come home. Fargo required revitalization, and I wanted to come full circle back to where I was born. Do you know that we have created over three hundred jobs in the city alone with NextTown?"

"How about we start there?" Kelsey asked. "We’ve heard that name spoken about a few times since we started this case. What is NextTown?"

"Not everywhere is as fortunate as Fargo," Cameron said as he poured the two express shots into the cup. He placed the cup under the espresso machine and held the button to add hot water. "Fargo is not a thriving city compared to others in the US, but we are on the right track. I have been all over the state, and many of our small towns are in ruins. It won't be long before they are ghost towns." He handed the cup to John. "Please, help yourself to cream and sugar."

Cameron walked from the espresso machine and sat in one of the comfy chairs, inviting Kelsey and John to join him. He sat forward, his knees spread apart, his forearms resting on his legs. His hands gestured as he spoke.

"NextTown is not about bringing investment to a town but about revitalizing the town from within. We want to save our dying rural communities and create multiple smart towns and urban centers, all sharing the same central hub. This is about saving lives, not only buildings."

"How was the vote going to go in Millbrook?" Kelsey asked.

"The vote?" Cameron asked. "I honestly don't know. One of my agents was in town that morning to oversee the vote and make any final pitches to the council members before they voted. It is truly awful what happened."

"Wait, you had someone in town that morning?" Kelsey asked.

"Who?" John asked.

"We are completely transparent here," Cameron said. "Her name is Rebecca Lawton. She is in Oakridge right now, talking to the people there. Thank goodness she got to the town hall right as the ambulance arrived."

"Thank goodness?" Kelsey asked. "You called us in?"

"Yes, was that not clear?" Cameron asked. "As soon as she found out there was a dead body in the town hall, she called me, and I called the District Attorney to ask for the best they had for this case. We still have hopes for Millbrook, and I want this investigation over as quickly as possible. I want the killer caught so we can continue with our plans. What is happening in Riverton is terrible, too. Obviously, someone has it in for us."

"Someone has it in for you?" John asked.

"We are going ahead with the project," Cameron stated. "Millbrook and Riverton are not the first towns we have targeted, but they were the most willing to work with us. I believe the vote would have gone against us two days ago, but the data showed that if we spoke to more key individuals, they could be pressured to accept our deal. I spoke on the phone with Harold Kensington two days before he was killed, and he was ready to listen to us. He would have voted against it, but we would have worn him down."

"Worn him down?" John asked. "The man is dead."

"I understand that, and it is a tragedy," Cameron said, "but we can't halt the project because one man is dead."

"Two men," Kelsey corrected.

"Yes, of course. As I say, the towns we want to enter are suddenly hit by tragedy. Obviously, someone is trying to frame us or bring enough negative press to the town that we must wait. If we have to wait, we have to move on."

"The people of Millbrook knew about your development project, but those in Riverton did not," Kelsey said. "Yet, you were planning to develop Riverton, weren’t you?"

"Yes, we were," Cameron said. "There is more than one way to enter a town. I will admit that we foresaw Martin Whitaker as a thorn in our sides, but there are far better ways of dealing with someone than to kill them. He wouldn’t have been an issue. We have been slowly buying up properties under shell companies over the past year. We have enough of the town to force redevelopment without having to take it to a vote."

"You can't just go in and buy up the town like that," John said.

"Yet, we did." Cameron flicked the bridge of his nose with his thumb. "I see how you look at me, but take it up with the government. Everything we do is completely legal. It’s not my fault we can get what we want by following the rules."

"What will happen when you revitalize the towns?" John asked. "I can't imagine you will gift new houses and businesses to the local population."

"Those who want to stay in our smart towns and have the means to do so will be allowed to stay."

"Allowed to stay?" John asked.

"Poor choice of words," Cameron replied. "They will be recompensed for their troubles either way. People are very flexible when they have extra cash in their pockets."

"So, you buy up these towns, change them completely, and force out those who can't afford to stay there anymore, which we both know will be most of the current population."

"Business is business," Cameron said.

"Do you think you can say business is business and that makes everything okay?" Kelsey asked.

"We’re going around in circles here," Cameron said. "You don't need to worry about the future. You only need to worry about the present. I brought you both in on this because you are the best at what you do. Now, if you need any information to help you catch our killer, I am happy to help."

"Where were you over the past three days?" John asked.

Cameron smiled and sighed. "Really? Do you think I brought in the best because I wanted to try and outsmart you? Even if I were behind this, I wouldn’t do it myself. Don't worry; I really want to be as transparent as possible. I will have my assistant send over my calendar for the past week, detailing everywhere I have been. I can't remember my exact movements, but I have been in Fargo all week. I have multiple people who can give me alibis. In the spirit of goodwill, I will also have an independent third party talk to all of my employees to provide you with their whereabouts. I really do want this case solved so we can get back to building the future."

"You talk about transparency," Kelsey said. "Using shell companies to buy buildings to force through your project doesn’t sound very transparent to me."

Cameron smiled and said, "Business is business."

"We also want details of your project," Kelsey said. "I want to know the exact location of NextTown."

"That will be harder," Cameron said. "We have the shareholders to think about. If word gets out where we are building, our competitors might use that to their advantage."

"If someone is trying to derail your project, then they already know where you are targeting. A list of small towns you are looking at might tell us where the killer will strike next. Take time or keep it from us if you want, but the first two murders were two days apart, so the third is coming soon. If you want to move ahead with this project, I advise you to share that information with us before this happens again."

"I’ll see what I can do," Cameron said.

Kelsey got up, and John followed.

"We’ll see ourselves out," Kelsey told Cameron.

"Find our killer before they kill again," Cameron called after them.

Kelsey pulled out her phone when they got into the elevator and called Officer Milton back in Riverton.

"Officer Milton, we will be back in town in a few hours. I need you to do something for me," Kelsey said.

"What?" the officer asked.

"Find anyone in town who has recently sold their house or business," Kelsey told her. Some might have left, but there must be some in the process of selling or who have recently sold. I want to talk to anyone you can find."

"Alright," the officer said.

Kelsey hung up the phone. "Let’s see what lengths NextTown are going to to force people out."

Chapter Thirteen

The man sat in his car in the town of Oakridge. He took a deep breath to calm himself. One thing he had not considered when he began his task was how it would feel to kill them. No, he had considered it, but his initial feelings had been turned upside down. When he first came to the conclusion they needed to die, he was disgusted with himself for thinking about taking a life. He wasn’t sure he could do it.

Not until he had driven the knife into the heart of Harold Kensington. As soon as the knife broke the skin and pierced his heart, he wept for what he had done. Yet, when he thought about his tears, they weren’t of sadness but a release from within. As he pierced Harold’s heart, he felt his own heart open up, and he became guided by a higher purpose.

Killing Martin Whitaker had been much easier, almost enjoyable. It had been easy to lure him out of his house alone and even easier to knock him out in the middle of the dark park and position his body to face north, south, east, and west. As he had crouched over him, his hand trembled in anticipation of what came next. It was a tremble of excitement.

The man found that he was not only doing what was necessary to ensure the survival of everyone around him, but he also enjoyed doing it.

There will only be two more, but what comes next? These towns are not the only ones that need help. When I have completed my task here, I can help others. These sacrifices will bring a new dawn to our state. I will help Cameron Wells fulfill his destiny.

The man realized he was panting, his hands trembling and clenching. He looked forward to the next kill far too much.

It is not for me but for him. I kill for a reason, not for my own pleasure.

He couldn't help himself. He reached under the front passenger seat and took out the cloth-wrapped package, which he laid on his lap. Before opening it, he looked up and down the street. It was a quiet street, so there were not many people out and about, but he still had to be careful. When he was sure no one was around, he allowed himself to unwrap the package and take out the knife.

As soon as he took the knife in hand, his hand ceased trembling. The blade was sharpened steel, the handle silver. His father had given him the knife when he was a boy, a family heirloom, but no one knew where it came from. All they knew was that it had been in the family for generations. The knife looked so new to his eye that he doubted the claim.

It didn't matter. The knife was the perfect tool to carve a path to the future. He gripped the handle tight, enjoying the smooth, cold metal. He thrust it forward slowly and evenly, imagining it sliding into flesh. He had imagined before his first kill that it would be hard to stab someone in the heart, both physically and mentally. It had been easy. He avoided the ribs, and it cut into the body like it was plunged into water.

The man licked his lips as he sat in his car with the knife. A movement from up ahead, and he quickly wrapped the knife once more and stuffed it back under the passenger seat. An old woman approached, and the man smiled at her as she walked past his car. She smiled in return.

Once she had passed, he took the map from the passenger seat and unfolded it. The map showed the town of Oakridge. He traced a finger of his route into town, moving off the main highway, down the main road into town that curved to turn into Main Street, and then turned off that onto the road his car was parked on. He tapped a square on the map—the building across the street.

The town clerk’s office.

Discrepancies had been found, and they must be punished. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the old woman further down the street.

You would not want this, would you? You are old, and everything has been a certain way your entire life, but what about the rest of us? Should we live our lives the same way they have always been lived. Do you notice how many steps we take back each day? Every year, it gets worse. You will not want it when the wave of progress comes, but if you live long enough, you will fully appreciate it.

After holding the knife, his heart rate accelerated, and his breathing became shorter and quicker. He stared at the map, drawing his eyes over the monochromatic shapes and lines. He read the words in his head as if repeating a mantra, and the order helped to calm him.

It’s in my heart. How can one small organ create so much and be snuffed out so easily? Mine tells me what needs to be done, and it drives me to drive the knife into another. One touch from my blade and all the emotion, all the life was gone. What powerful and fragile creatures we are.

At that moment, he knew himself to be a fragile being, and he worried he was doing the wrong thing. His entire mission was for the benefit of another—Cameron Wells—and his mission was for the benefit of thousands.

What are we willing to sacrifice for others?

It nagged at him, tugged at his heart, and not even looking at the map helped. What was his life like? Would it be better after the task was completed? Would he benefit from it? Was it wise to help others when it didn't help you? He didn't see himself as a selfless man, but perhaps he was.

A wave of despair filled his heart, and he wanted to weep again, just as he had when he murdered Harold Kensington. He wanted to stop at that moment, drive from the town, and continue driving until he was far from where he was and who he was. He didn't know if he wanted to do it anymore.

Then, the door on the opposite side of the street opened, and Jennifer Martinez walked out. She turned and locked the door before walking down the street. The man watched her as she walked. He didn't know if he wanted to help anymore, but he knew he would kill her. It would help, but he wasn’t doing this one for that reason.

He would kill her because it would make him feel better.

***

Kelsey and John arrived back in Riverton as the sun was beginning to set. They were both tired, but the hotel on the outskirts of town could wait. They headed straight for the police station to see if Officer Milton had discovered anything to aid their investigations.

The police station was quiet when they walked in. The lights were all still on, and out looked far too bright for the number of people who were still in the building: two. Officer Milton worked at her computer while a woman sat in the waiting area. This time, it was not Mrs. Whitaker.

"I’ll grab us some coffee," John said.

John went off toward the door at the back of the police station while Kelsey headed for Officer Milton.

She was tapping on the keyboard, her back to Kelsey as she approached, but she spoke as if they were facing each other. "You made it just in time," the officer said. "I was about to send her home."

"Who?" Kelsey asked.

Officer Milton stopped working and turned on the chair to face Kelsey. "I spoke to three people who have recently sold homes and businesses. Two couples and Miss Carter over there in the chair. I would have sent her home earlier, but she wanted to stay to talk with you."

"Thank you. Good work, Officer." Kelsey said it quietly, even though there was no reason to do so. It felt right with the environment around them being so tranquil. Kelsey left the officer’s desk and went over to the woman sitting in the waiting area.

Miss Carter was in her thirties, wore a summer dress with a cardigan over it, and had long, blonde hair. She wore glasses and chewed on her fingernail, even after she noticed Kelsey approaching her.

"Miss Carter? I’m Special Agent Hawk."

"Yes." Miss Carter said. "Please call me Debbie."

"Debbie," Kelsey repeated. "How about you call me Kelsey and we can do away with any formalities."

"Okay, yes, I can do that." Debbie spoke nervously. Between talking, she brought her hand to her mouth but didn't always chew on her fingernail.

"You recently sold a property?" Kelsey asked.

"I was forced to sell it," Debbie replied.

"What was the property you sold?" Kelsey asked.

"My house," Debbie said. "I am living with a friend now, but I don't know what I will do now. There’s nowhere to rent in town, and I won't have anywhere else to go. My friend has told me I can stay for as long as I like, but I can't stay with her forever, can I?"

"It’s a hard situation to be in," Kelsey agreed.

John returned with three cups of coffee. "I wasn’t sure what you take, so I brought an extra with cream and sugar."

"Thank you," Debbie said, taking the cup from him. She brought it to her lips but decided not to drink, placing it on the floor between her feet.

"Can you take us through it?" Kelsey asked. "What led you to sell your house?"

"I don’t even understand it," Debbie said. She chewed on her fingernail for a second. "I have a mortgage on my house, and I missed one payment, and the bank penalized me for that. Then, I was due to renew my mortgage soon after, and they raised it so much. Thirty percent! I tried to talk to them, but they told me something about interest rates, and it made sense, but not really. If I didn't sign the contract, I would lose the house, so I had no option. I was able to get the money together for the first payment, and I asked them to defer the second payment just for a week or two until I got more money together, but they refused."

"They reclaimed your home?" Kelsey asked.

"No, they threatened to, but I got an offer on my house. It was far below the market value, but the bank would have taken it, so I had no real choice in the matter."

"Who did you sell it to?" Kelsey asked. "Was it someone from NextTown?"

"NextTown? No, I don't think so. I don't remember who it was. I have his card somewhere. He’s a realtor. Someone had put a bid in, and he encouraged me to sell."

"And this has been happening with other people?" Kelsey asked. "Has the same realtor dealt with them?"

"I don’t know," Debbie admitted. "I know someone else in town couldn't keep up with mortgage payments, but the bank took their home. And other people have sold their properties, but I don’t know why. If it keeps going like this, there will be none of us left."

Kelsey was sure NextTown was influencing sales.

"I would like to see the realtor’s card once we are done here," Kelsey said. "How did he act when negotiating the deal for you? Did he pressure you into the sale?"

"No, he didn't have to. The bank was pressuring me, and I knew there was no other option." Debbie quickly chewed on her fingernail. "It wasn’t him who pressured us, it was Sarah."

"Sarah?" Kelsey asked.

"Sarah Matherson," Debbie said. "She told us all we should sell up and get out of the town before it collapsed."

"Who’s Sarah Matherson?" John asked.

"She’s a businesswoman. Was a businesswoman. I don't really know anymore. She came to my house and talked to me for an hour about it. Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to her, but she insisted I sell. It all made so much sense when she spoke about it, and I had no choice. She didn't have to work very hard with me, but I know she was tougher with others."

"Tougher? What do you mean?" Kelsey asked.

"I don't really know. I spoke to a couple of people, and they didn't tell me what she had said or done, but I got the impression Sarah threatened them. I don't know what she could threatened them with, but they all sold after talking with her."

"Do you know where Sarah Matherson is now?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, she lives right here in town," Debbie said. "I can give you her address."

"Please," Kelsey said. She went to one of the desks, retrieved a pad and pen, and took them to Debbie to write down the address.

It was late, and they needed rest, but first thing in the morning, they would visit Sarah Matherson and find out if she was working with NextTown. Kelsey felt sure NextTown was involved in some way, and if they could find out how, they would be a step closer to their killer."

Chapter Fourteen

Another night in a cheap motel and another early trip into a small town. They were back in Riverton again after a quick breakfast of coffee and pastries from the gas station beside the motel. They drove past the police station on the way to visit Sarah Matherson. They hadn’t called ahead, not wanting to tip their hand.

Sarah Matherson’s home was not what they expected. If she worked for or with NextTown, she wasn’t getting much out of it—or not yet. Her house was a single-level residence, much like the ones they had interviewed people in previously, but it was one of the most run-down they had seen.

The garden was well-kept, and the grass was short. The fence was fine structurally, but the white paint on almost every board was chipping. The house was far worse than the yard. The windows were old and in dire need of replacement, and a few of the shingles on the roof were loose. The front of the house had more chipped paint than the fence, and a board was missing from the siding.

John parked out front, and they exited the vehicle to approach the house. John knocked on the door, careful not to break it, as the house was in rough shape.

Kelsey was surprised to see the state of the house after expecting that Sarah was doing well after partnering with Cameron Wells, and she was even more surprised to see Sarah Matherson when she opened the door. The house was surprisingly unkempt, and Sarah was remarkably presentable.

Debbie Carter had mentioned the previous evening that Sarah had been or was a businesswoman, and she looked the part. Sarah wore a jet-black pantsuit with a white blouse. Her hair was tied into a tight bun, and she wore a generous amount of makeup. She was a beautiful woman, but the makeup, hair, and outfit were not designed to complement that. They were designed to make her look as professional as possible.

"Sarah Matherson?" Kelsey asked.

"I am," she replied. "And you are?"

"Special Agent Hawk," Kelsey said, showing her badge.

"Deputy Gallant," John added.

"Oh, is this about Martin Whitaker?" Sarah asked. "Are you going door to door asking if anyone knows anything?"

"Can we come in?" John asked.

Sarah shrugged. "Okay."

She led the way through the house, the interior in better shape than the exterior. It was easier to keep the place clean and maybe add a lick of paint than to engage in expensive outdoor repairs. Sarah pointed through the door to the living room, and Kelsey and John went through before Sarah followed.

"I don't have much time, I’m afraid," Sarah said. "I have a meeting in twenty minutes."

"Who with?" John asked.

"Is that relevant to the case?" Sarah asked.

"We don't know yet," John replied.

"Can I get you both some coffee?" Sarah asked.

"No, that’s fine," Kelsey said. "We had some on the way."

"Alright." Sarah folded her arms across her chest and waited to be asked questions. She didn't offer Kelsey or John a seat and looked quite happy to stand with them in the living room.

The decor was minimalist. A print of Mondrian hung on the wall, and there was a bookcase with only one shelf filled with books. Kelsey couldn’t make out the titles on the spines, but the books looked more like nonfiction than fiction, likely business books. There were no photos anywhere, and there was no personalization in the room.

"We were told you are a businesswoman," Kelsey said. She would have guessed that from how Sarah was dressed.

"Yes, that’s correct," Sarah replied.

"What is it you do?" Kelsey asked.

"A lot," Sarah replied as if that answered the question fully. When there was silence, Sarah added, "I work with the local community to bring investment to businesses. I myself was a local business owner before the economy collapsed. I ran a consulting business for business and personal loans, and I thought my business was bulletproof, but I guess it was not. I lost everything when this town collapsed. I mean everything. I could have given in and left town, but I held my head high and rebuilt."

"What does that mean?" Kelsey asked. "You brokered loans for businesses and individuals and are back doing the same?"

"Yes," Sarah said.

"Take us through it," Kelsey said. "What do you do now, and what is different from what you previously did?"

Sarah’s lips tightened as she thought about it. "Previously, I brokered loans directly from the local banks and building societies. I negotiated rates with the banks based on my reputation rather than the loaner’s reputation, often garnering a better rate than they would get by themselves. I helped our town to grow before the banks got too greedy and everything collapsed."

"And who do you negotiate with now?" Kelsey asked.

"Instead of the banks, I partner with investors to provide loans and investment in local businesses. We are working to protect local business owners against the same thing happening again."

"And these investors? Would one of them be NextTown?" John asked.

Sarah flinched at the mention of the name. "I haven’t dealt with them directly, no, but I admire what they are doing for local communities."

Do you believe you will be one of the ones who gets to stay in town after they take over?

"What do you admire?" Kelsey asked.

Sarah’s eyebrows dropped a little. "Everything! If they had come along sooner, none of this would have happened. I know they are a large business, and that scares a lot of people, but they do want to help. Can you imagine our small towns revitalized and restored? They won't be restored to their former glory; they will go beyond that. This is about building something better than any of us can imagine. Do I want to live in a declining town, or do I want to live in a smart town, partnered with other smart towns, with an entertainment and commercial hub? It will bring people in. No one wants to visit small towns like this or even stay in them when passing through. We will become a destination for everyone around us."

"It sounds as if you work for them," John said. "Have you been in contact with Cameron Wells?"

"No, I haven’t, but he is a brilliant man. And, no, I don't work for them, but I know a good thing when I see it. The choice I see is we either wither away to nothing or take our chances with something no one has ever dreamed of before."

"And you don't work for NextTown or Cameron Wells?" Kelsey asked.

"No, I don’t," Sarah replied.

"So, you haven’t been pressuring people to sell up to shell companies owned by NextTown?" Kelsey asked.

"Feel free to look at any of the paperwork I have co-signed," Sarah said. "There is no mention of NextTown on any of the documents."

Kelsey stared at Sarah. She was sure Sarah Matherson had not met personally with Cameron Wells, but she was working hard enough for NextTown to almost be working for them.

"You lost everything you had, and you don't want that to happen again," Kelsey said. "I get that. You want NextTown to come in here and revitalize the town. Maybe we don't have proof that you are helping people sign away their properties to NextTown, but I suspect you know they are behind it. We do have proof, however, that you are pressuring people to sell. Do you think they will let you stay? They will give you a golden ticket to a new life in a NextTown smart town?"

"I have to pressure them because they are so stubborn," Sarah said. "I’m working for the people. No one wants to sell because they believe they will lose all they have. This town is all they have. They want to fight to the bitter end and lose everything anyway, like so many of us already did. I pressure them because they will only lose if I don't. I can supply you with all the paperwork. If they don't take the deals I advise on, they leave town without a penny. I give them hope. I give them a life. You don't realize how hard it was after everything collapsed. I’m not the only one who lost everything. There were dozens more who lost their business, houses, families, and lives. I can't let that happen again. I won't let it happen."

"Martin Whitaker was very vocal against outside investment," John said.

"Yes, he was," Sarah agreed. "We butted heads on quite a few occasions, but I didn't kill him. Who do you think I am?"

"So, you have an alibi for the night he was killed?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, I do," Sarah said. "I was with someone that night. He is part of our group. His name is Gordon Henderson. I would prefer if you spoke to Gordon and Gordon only because no one else knows that I have taken him as a lover."

"He was with you all night?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, he was. He stayed the night with me, as he does on many nights, and he will confirm that for you."

"What group?" John asked.

"I started a group for those who lost everything in the financial collapse," Sarah explained. "We get together once a week to share our stories and support each other as we build upward. We support each other and grow together. There is a lot of anger in town."

"Anger?" John asked.

Kelsey’s phone rang.

"We’d like a list of names from your group," John continued.

"It's not like that," Sarah said as Kelsey took out her phone. "Just because someone is angry at losing their home or business, that doesn't turn them into a murderer going on a spree across two towns."

Kelsey answered the phone and stepped into the hallway.

"Special Agent Hawk."

"It’s Officer Milton," the officer said. "You need to get over to Oakridge. There’s been another."

Three towns. The Spree is now across three towns, and there will be more. I can feel it.

Chapter Fifteen

Kelsey held the phone to her ear as she called her contact at the FBI. John gripped the wheel of his truck as they drove to Oakridge, a town they had visited before and were on their way to visit again. The previous visit had taken them to a suspect in the murder case, and this visit took them to another victim.

"Lucas Garcia," Lucas answered.

"Lucas, it’s Kelsey," Kelsey said. "I wanted to check in and see if you had any updates on Philip Guppy."

"Nothing concrete so far," Lucas said. "Philip Guppy is definitely an alias, and so is John Oliver. We don't know his real name or anything about him. The phone is proving hard to trace, but we are making progress in it. I don't know exactly how it’s set up, but the signal pings around everywhere. If I had to guess, I would say we are closing in on Fargo, which makes sense. They will be based out of a larger hub, and it’s easier to hide someone in the city rather than a small town."

Kelsey couldn’t help but think of Cameron Wells. He was a big player in the state. Did he have any ties to a criminal organization?

It would be far too much of a coincidence for him to be involved.

"I need something else from you," Kelsey said. "This is all legit, so you don't need to be secretive."

"Anything for you, Kelsey," Lucas said. "Well, almost anything."

Kelsey's phone beeped as she spoke to Lucas.

"We’re chasing a serial killer," Kelsey said. "I believe he created an email account to impersonate someone. We have limited resources here, so we haven’t been able to get very far with tracing where the emails originated. Can you take care of that for me?"

"Shouldn’t be too hard," Lucas said. "Just make sure I get some credit when you catch this guy."

"Your name will be the first on my report," Kelsey said.

"I appreciate that," Lucas said with a chuckle. "Send me the details, and I’ll get on it ASAP."

"Thanks, Lucas," Kelsey said.

She hung up and checked her emails.

"The autopsy report came through from Martin Whitaker," she said, opening it.

"Anything we don't already know?" John asked.

"Let’s see…Hit on the side of the head, harder than Harold Kensington, but not hard enough to kill him. Laid out on the ground, like where he was bludgeoned. Stab wound to the heart like the first, same wound shape. That’s what killed him. He had no other injuries and nothing in his system. They found his phone on him, but there’s nothing on there to suggest he contacted his killer with his phone. No incoming or outgoing calls before he was killed."

"So, he emails this guy, thinking he’s talking with Christian Evans, and believes Christian has some secret information. He goes alone to the park, late enough that no one is around, and the killer knocks him out with a blow to the head. The killer positions him to point to the four compass directions, either killing him before or after that. Then, he disappears into the night."

"Sounds about right," Kelsey said. "He arrived to kill Harold in the early morning and killed Martin late at night. The roads would have been quiet. Maybe that gives us a chance to spot him. Unless he’s local to the area. If we are dealing with an angry local, he might live in any of the three towns. He could have walked back and forth to one of the murders."

"An angry local?" John asked.

"If you lose everything you have, what more do you have to lose?" Kelsey asked. "So far, we have two people targeted who were against outside investment, and they could influence their towns. What if our killer sees that as his driving force and the men he killed as the enemy? If he lost everything, it was because of the financial collapse. Without investment, it will happen again. What if Cameron Wells is wrong? He suggested someone is out to stop his business investing in small towns, but what if the killer is trying to remove the obstacles? With Harold Kensington gone, the vote will be easier to sway. With Martin Whitaker gone, the vocal force is removed."

"So, we are looking for someone who wants NextTown to succeed and bring investment and revitalize the town," John said.

"Possibly," Kelsey replied. "Although, I don't know if they know they are digging their own graves. Cameron Wells runs a business. He will compensate people, but he wants to draw wealthier people to the town. Sarah Matherson knows it, I think. She wants to make money while she can and then take her chances. I think whoever is doing this believes they are helping the town, but they will eventually help to drive everyone out."

"It’s a lose-lose," John said. "If they don't get investment, everyone loses out. If they do, everyone loses out."

"Everyone loses out with three murders in three close towns," Kelsey said. "If the killer thinks they are helping, they are extremely misguided."

"This is it," John said.

Kelsey looked out of the window at the small church up ahead. She didn't know anything about the victim or the location yet, but she could picture the body inside, arms stretched out like a crucifixion even though it wasn’t, the church sitting in the exact geographical center of the town.

Before she got out of the truck, Kelsey called Peter Burke.

"Nothing yet," Peter said, almost out of breath as he answered his phone. "Sorry, a lot going on today."

"You can add a new point to the list," Kelsey said. "The church in Oakridge. I want to know if—"

"It’s the center," Peter said immediately. "They built around the church way back."

"You know for sure?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, definitely," Peter said. "I’ve been checking geographical centers all over just in case, but I knew of that one before that. It’s the center of the town."

"Use the three points," Kelsey instructed. "I want to know if it brings us any closer to building a four-point compass. If not, I want to know if you can tell me anything about the triangle we are presented with. Is the size significant? The shape? Is there something at the center? Anything you can think of, Peter."

"I’m on it," Peter said.

Once the call was done, Kelsey and John exited the vehicle and approached the third crime scene. The location was different, a small white church with a single steeple that was no longer the highest point in the town, but the scene outside was the same. The forensic van was there along with a couple of other vehicles, yellow police tape had been strung up, and forensic people came and went from the church.

A woman was leaning against the wall, much like Kelsey had been when waiting for Christian Evans. She headed their way. Kelsey assumed the woman was an officer from the town, but she was wrong about that assumption.

"Good morning, I’m Rebecca Lawton," the woman asked. "I thought it was time to make a formal introduction."

"You’re Cameron Wells’ agent," Kelsey said.

"I am," Rebecca replied.

"And what is it an agent does?" Kelsey asked.

"I know, it’s an unusual title. We agents go into towns, conference rooms, attend events, run video calls, and much more. We are the ones who get the deals done. For me, that meant being in Millbrook for the vote and gauging the feeling after the vote to decide when to push for a second vote. It means being in Oakridge to talk to the people here about what NextTown can mean for them."

"Riverton?" John asked.

"I wasn’t needed there," Rebecca said. "We had the town covered."

"Covertly buying up properties," Kelsey pointed out.

"You make it sound worse than it is, but yes, that is what we did and are doing. It will revitalize this area."

"So, these were three of the towns you targeted as part of NextTown?" Kelsey asked.

"Three among many," Rebecca said. "I can tell you that we hoped they would be the first hub, but we might have to move on with the mess the killer is causing."

"Yes, quite a mess," John said snarkily.

"The victim’s name is Jennifer Martinez," Rebecca continued, ignoring the comment from John. She worked here in the town clerk’s office. I know almost everyone in the town. She was speaking to the town council recently, but I don't know what about. I’m sure it was to the detriment of NextTown if it follows the two previous murders."

"You know a lot about what is happening around here," Kelsey noted.

"It’s my job," Rebecca told them.

"As long as you make sure you don't step outside what is your job," John said. "Your boss brought us in to catch this killer, and we don't need anyone stepping on our toes."

Rebecca raised her hands. "I’m only here to help. The quicker we can wrap this up, the better. Once you are done with the body, I have the documents you requested from Mr. Wells. He sent them to me to print out so I could deliver the copies to you in person. He also told me to contact him if you need anything else."

Rebecca spoke in a businesslike tone as if there was no dead body resting in the church.

Kelsey nodded to Rebecca, looking past her to a dark figure standing twenty paces from the church. The man's face was stern and worried, but he didn't move a muscle as Kelsey stared at him.

"I see him," John whispered to her. "Why don't you check inside and I’ll see why he’s loitering near the church, obviously wanting our attention."

"Alright," Kelsey said.

She left Rebecca standing where she was and headed into the church, showing her badge on the way. As soon as she entered, it felt like all sounds had been sucked away. She knew from experience that churches had good acoustics, but in the early morning, the church amplified the silence. Even the team working inside was much quieter than usual, holding some reverence for the church.

Kelsey looked around. It was a simple church, with no stained glass windows, but still with intricate decor inside. The benches and pews were walnut, and each looked immaculate. Stone pillars ran down the side walls of the church, about six feet from each. They were carved to have ribs running up them, and at the top were angels and demons. The church was built a long time ago when money could be funneled into it, and the entire town would help with the construction.

When Kelsey approached the body, the forensic team took a step back. A couple of them nodded toward her in recognition.

Kelsey didn't need to linger. She looked down on the body, not bothering to crouch. Jennifer Martinez had tanned skin and long black hair that flowed beneath her head like water. There was no visible sign of a blow to the head, but Kelsey was sure it was there. The woman wore a simple black skirt and brown blouse. There had been no need to move and replace a jacket this time. The blossoming rose on her chest was darker on the brown.

Another life had been snuffed out.

"Do you know when it happened?" Kelsey asked.

"A few hours ago?" one of the team suggested. "I would say no more than eight to ten. The church is always open. The pastor found her this morning."

Kelsey nodded and headed from the church. She found Rebecca Lawson first and took charge of the documents before getting Rebecca’s number and discovering that she was in the area for the next three or four days. Kelsey didn't like using her, feeling that NextTown was too close to everything, but she could be a valuable source of knowledge.

She left Rebecca and flipped through the documents she had been given. The documents didn't state that Millbrook, Riverton, and Oakridge were the three towns where the smart towns would be built. They were on a long list of others. However, there was a blueprint for the smart town. It showed three locations, with a fourth location at the center—three smart towns with a central entertainment and commercial hub.

Kelsey photographed a few of the documents and sent them to Peter Burke. She attached a message: If Millbrook, Riverton, and Oakridge were smart towns, where would the central hub be?

Kelsey put the documents in her bag to be reviewed later and walked over to where John stood, conversing with the mystery man.

"Special Agent Hawk," John introduced. "This is Gareth Bloom. He tells me that he knows why Jennifer Martinez was murdered."

Chapter Sixteen

"I still can't believe it," Gareth said. "She was a good woman and a wonderful employee. A part of me hasn’t come to terms with her being gone." Gareth shook his head as he walked in a daze toward the clerk’s office. "She wouldn’t harm a fly. There was a time in the summer when a cricket got into the office, and she chased that thing around for ten minutes, cupping it in her hand and escorting it back outside. She even crossed the road to the patch of grass and placed it there. I watched her from the window as it hopped from her palms."

Kelsey and John followed the man to the offices. He rambled nervously, filling any silence and perhaps his thoughts after discovering his employee, his friend, was dead. He hadn’t mentioned her being a friend, but it was obvious to Kelsey that she was. He cared for her, and sadness tinted his words as he spoke.

"Who could do something like this?" Gareth asked again. "I still can't get my head around it. To stand before her and still want to kill her! I don't understand this world anymore."

Gareth took a key from his pocket as they approached the small building. It was not early, but the streets around them were quiet. They were outside of the main hub, away from the populace.

Kelsey had begun wondering what the murders would do to the three towns. The towns were in decline, and there was the possibility that NextTown would buy them up completely. Perhaps the murderers worked in their favor and drove down the prices. Kelsey filed that thought away for later. She wondered what would happen to the people. The three towns would always have a murderous history attached, and while they could sympathize with two other towns around them, there was little to be gained from that. The two surrounding towns only amplified the violence.

Four? Is that how many he has planned? The three smart towns and a central hub?

It almost felt as if he were sacrificing people to the God (Cameron Wells) of his religion (NextTown).

When Gareth reached the door, he smoothly turned the key in the lock. Then, he invited Kelsey and John in.

Another open-plan office faced Kelsey, but the size of the building required its openness. There was enough room for their desks, which were separated by metal shelving units. The shelves reminded Kelsey of those in Peter Burke’s office, where rolled documents, likely maps, were on display.

Gareth flipped the switch just inside the door to turn on the lights, adding a little extra illumination to the natural light entering through the front window.

"Why do you think Jennifer Martinez was killed?" Kelsey asked, getting straight to the point.

"Jennifer recently discovered discrepancies in property records," Gareth said. "She prepared a report to take to the town council. I believe that someone found out about it and killed her because of it."

Kelsey and John stood in silence, not knowing what question to ask next. They didn't entirely understand what Gareth was talking about.

"She told me something big was happening," Gareth continued. "She said she was still piecing it together, but it must be something to do with NextTown."

"You know about NextTown?" Kelsey asked.

"We voted on it two months ago, and there was an overwhelming majority to reject the investment from them. They’re the ones manipulating the property lines."

"Sorry, I don't understand exactly what’s happening here," Kelsey said. "What was Jennifer investigating? And please, treat us like we are five years old."

"Every property, business, commercial, residential has a set area. There are property lines that encompass the property. In most cases, that’s four straight lines to make a rectangle. Sometimes, it’s more complicated than that. We still deal a lot with paper copies, but almost everything is digitized nowadays. That’s where she found the discrepancies. I don't know where exactly, but I’m sure we can find out."

"So, she found discrepancies between the digitized property lines and the paper copies?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, exactly," Gareth said eagerly. "It must have come about from the digitization. We have an archive in town attached to the local museum, not that our history is all that interesting. She was making copies of the old maps to digitize them, too. There must be some around here somewhere. Let me see."

Gareth searched the shelves by one of the desks, presumably Jennifer’s.

"Do you mind if we take a look at her computer and desk?" John asked.

"No, please," Gareth said. "I should have invited you to do so already. You’ll have to look for fingerprints and all that.

"Something like that," Kelsey agreed.

"I can't see them here," Gareth said. "She must have taken them back. Let me call the archives and get the maps she had out. We should be able to compare them."

Gareth went to another desk while Kelsey and John began searching Jennifer’s.

There was not a lot to look at. John twisted the monitor on the desk and moved the keyboard to check her computer while Kelsey sat in the desk chair, quickly scanning the almost empty desktop before delving into the two drawers. The bottom drawer contained files, and Kelsey flicked through them. They were files she was working on, previous and current. There were property disputes, utility line requests, permits, and other documents.

Kelsey closed the drawer and opened the second of two. Stationary filled the front of the drawer, and a notebook was in the back. She took the notebook out and opened it. The notes were in cursive, a little hard to read, but they were legible.

"I don't understand it," Gareth said, returning. "They will send over the maps Jennifer had checked out previously, but some of them are missing. They are not in the local archive office, they are not here on her shelves, and she would not have taken them home with her. I don't understand."

"What records are missing?" Kelsey asked.

"Um, a few historical maps of the town, the town charter, and a couple of other records," Gareth said.

"The historical map?" Kelsey asked. "Could you use that to pinpoint the exact geographical center of the town?"

"Yes, why?" Gareth asked.

Kelsey looked at John.

"Do you think the killer took them?" John asked.

"Maybe."

Kelsey took out her phone as she went through the notebook, and called Peter.

"I don't have any—" Peter started.

"I want you to check with the local archives in town and find out if any maps or records have been stolen from there," Kelsey said.

"Well, that's us," Peter said. "You saw it all for yourself. My office acts as the archives. You want me to check if any maps are missing?"

"Please," Kelsey said. "You can message me when you have an answer."

"Alright," Peter said.

"I have something here," Kelsey said. "Look at this note: Who is moving the property line? Who took the maps? RM? We need to find out who RM is."

"I think I already know," John said. He turned around the monitor to show a picture of a man with his name below: Richard Mercer. "He works for NextTown," John explained. He’s their Chief Surveyor."

"Let’s go back and talk with Rebecca Lawson," Kelsey said. "If he’s in the area, and he’s the one who took the old maps, then he has to be our killer."

Chapter Seventeen

"Let us know if you find out anything else about the missing maps," Kelsey told Gareth, leaving her card with him. We’ll have someone sent to her home to check for the maps there, just in case."

Gareth was in his office chair, rubbing his hand over his forehead as he tried to make sense of the complicated situation. He nodded to Kelsey as they left the office.

Once outside, the two of them practically ran back to the church. The forensic team was still inside, and Rebecca Lawson still stood outside, ready to report back to Cameron Wells.

"Miss Lawson," Kelsey said. "We need a word with you."

Rebecca stepped away from the church. She looked a little worried by Kelsey’s demand to speak with her as if she were not the one in control anymore. Not that she ever had been.

"Anything you need," Rebecca said with a practiced politeness.

"We need to speak with Richard Mercer," Kelsey said. She decided to take a risk and pretend they knew more than they actually did—an educated guess. "We heard he was in the area."

There was a slight flicker in Rebecca’s gaze as she tried to hold herself calmly. Rebecca was annoyed by the second demand.

"When can we meet him?" Kelsey pushed. "He’s out here doing some survey work, isn’t he?" Another risk.

"I’ll give him a call," Rebecca said.

"That would be wonderful," Kelsey said.

Rebecca stepped far enough away from Kelsey and John that she could have the conversation with Richard Mercer in private. Kelsey and John turned toward the door as the body was carried from the church, a white sheet covering her. It looked like a funeral procession.

"So, where are we at?" John asked.

"Harold Kensington was steering the vote against NextTown, no matter how confident Cameron Wells was that he could force another vote with a better conclusion. Martin Whitaker might be the most outspoken on NextTown and any other businesses coming into his town. We have to assume Richard Mercer is changing boundary lines to some favorable end for NextTown. I don't know. They are buying up properties in Riverton with shell companies to sneak in there. What happens when you change property lines? Does that make NextTown properties larger? Can they deflate prices because the properties look smaller? Some sort of zoning issue?"

"He comes into town to do NextTown’s dirty work, gets caught by Jennifer Martinez, and decides to kill her," John said. "Maybe he killed the other two to make it look like a serial killer to divert attention or because they were thorns in NextTown’s side. maybe both."

"He is up to something, and maybe we find out and push him to spill the truth once we get him speaking," Kelsey said. "I need to call Officer Milton and check in there. See if she has anything else that might help us now that more information is coming out. I know there won't be a camera at the archives, but can you check anyway? If Richard Mercer stole the maps, he took them from there or from Jennifer Martinez."

John nodded and walked off to make a call to the archives while Kelsey called Officer Milton.

"Milton," Officer Milton answered.

"We’re at the crime scene in Oakridge," Kelsey said. "It is the same as the others, and we don't have anything more from that, but we are looking into another suspect. Richard Mercer. He works as the Chief Surveyor for NextTown. I wanted to check where we are with Sarah Matheson."

"She came into the station to give a statement, and we took a statement from Gordon, too. He confirmed he was with her on the night Martin Whitaker was killed and the morning of Harold Kensington’s murder. She also dropped off a list of names from her support group of people who have lost businesses, homes, or anything else in town."

"Alright, keep a hold of that for now," Kelsey said. "I want you to check in with Millbrook and Oakridge, too. Perhaps ask Sarah Matherson if she knows more people from those towns who have lost their livelihoods. I believe Sarah knows what NextTown is doing, and they were planning on using their towns in their project. Compile a list of anyone who has lost anything over the past few years. In fact, send me the list that you have, and send me amendments as you add to it."

"You think it could be one of them?" Officer Milton asked.

"If our killer is not Richard Mercer, we have to consider this is someone who lost everything because outside investment was rejected. I think it is someone who wants NextTown to succeed and is removing the obstacles, the people they feel are responsible for them losing everything."

"Okay, I’ll send the list over now and update it as we go," Officer Milton said. "Debbie Carter also dropped by with the card of the realtor who sold her house after Sarah Matherson pressured her into selling. His name is Brian Foster."

"Check him out, too, just in case," Kelsey said. "And send me over a photo of his card so I have it."

"Got it," Officer Milton said. "Anything else?"

"No, that’s great for now," Kelsey said. "I’ll call again if I need anything else."

Kelsey ended the call and looked over at John, who shook his head. There was no camera at the archives. Kelsey hadn’t noticed one at the clerk’s office. If the killer had taken the maps from either of those places to research the geography, he hadn’t been caught on camera.

Kelsey checked her messages. A text from Peter Burke: Maps of the local area missing. Will check with the intern to ensure he didn't take them home for private study.

Rebecca Lawson was the last to end her call. She returned to Kelsey and John with her phone in hand.

"You are in luck," Rebecca said with her usual polite smile. "Mr. Mercer is in the area, and he can meet with you within the hour."

"That’s good news," Kelsey said.

***

Kelsey, John, Rebecca, and Richard Mercer met in a small coffee shop. Richard was already there when he arrived, and he stood and waved on seeing Rebecca. There was a tenseness in Richard’s body as if he were holding himself stiff so he didn’t crumble and fall. From the moment Kelsey spotted him, she knew he was guilty of something.

Kelsey would have liked to have met him sooner, but an hour wasn’t a long time. Still, it gave him time to get his story straight if he needed to. Kelsey was sure he would have called Cameron Wells for advice on what to tell them. Or what not to tell them.

"Mr. Mercer, let me introduce Special Agent Hawk and Deputy Gallant," Rebecca introduced.

"Your reputation precedes you," Richard said. "We are glad to have you on the team."

"We’re not on anyone’s team," John corrected. "We only want to catch whoever murdered three people."

Richard looked around the cafe when the word "murder" was mentioned. "Yes, of course. Please. Sit. Rebecca, would you order us all some coffee?"

Rebecca took everyone’s orders and went to the counter. Richard Mercer was in his early forties, he wore a charcoal suit, looked like he worked out, and wore round glasses. From the neck down, he looked like a typical jock, but he had mousiness in his face, and his eyes were keen and studious.

Once they were all seated, Kelsey asked, "How about you start by telling us about what you do for NextTown?"

"Of course," Richard replied. "As I am sure you already know, I am the chief surveyor for NextTown. What that entails is moving into the towns NextTown plans to revitalize and going over everything with a fine tooth comb. I am responsible for checking the property lines, estimating property value, pulling permits for buildings, advising what can be built on a piece of land based on what is there already, and I advise on everything before the building starts."

"If you are here in Oakridge, NextTown must be serious about developing here," Kelsey said.

"I go where they tell me to go," Richard replied.

"So, you don't know if the project was going ahead or not?" Kelsey asked.

"You would have to talk to Mr. Wells to find that out," Richard said. "Miss Lawson and I are here to do our jobs, but ultimately, the decision is his. I can tell you there have been times when a deal has been signed at the last minute and other times when he has pulled out right at the deadline. You can't even tell with Mr. Wells, but it’s worked extremely well for him up until now, and I expect that will continue."

"But you must have some idea," John said. "You’re here surveying the properties. You don't have any idea whether the project would have been possible or not?"

Richard smiled magnanimously. "As I said, I am here to report what I find, give my recommendations, and nothing more. I really can't say whether the project will go ahead or not because I genuinely don't know. I know the lay of the land—that’s what I always say. You could fill a hundred books with what I don't know."

"I think you do know," John said. "This would go a lot smoother if you told us the truth."

"Deputy Gallant, I have been nothing but forthcoming with you. All I want to know is when this killer will be caught. I am sure you want to catch him, but you can't give us any guarantees, can you?"

"I’m sure we’ll catch him," John said. "Special Agent Hawk is the best I’ve seen. Read her arrest reports, and you’ll see that she always gets her guy. I know we’re not meant to say it, but I believe we will catch this guy."

Kelsey watched Richard Mercer as John said his piece. She wanted to see if his expression faltered for a moment, discern if John’s words worried him. She couldn’t get a proper read on the surveyor.

Rebecca returned with a small tray of coffee, placing them on the table. She then placed a small jug of cream and ratchets of sugar on the tray, placed it beside them, and sat by Richard.

"Mr. Mercer, you’re here to survey all three towns, aren’t you?" Kelsey didn't know that for sure, but it made sense that he was.

"I… yes, I am," Richard said. "I was instructed to be in all three towns this past week to check the viability of future development if it goes ahead."

"I’m assuming that you performed surveys in Riverton for NextTown to buy the properties there through their shell companies," Kelsey continued.

Richard bit his bottom lip and scratched the back of his neck. "I have been in Riverton a lot over the past few months to survey properties, but I have no part in their purchase."

"But you know NextTown is buying up properties there through shell companies, right?" John asked.

"I wouldn't know," Richard replied.

"So, you don't know why you were surveying the properties?" Kelsey asked.

"As I said, I go where I am told, and I do as I’m asked," Richard replied. He took up a sachet of sugar and shook it before flicking it multiple times.

"You did say you were in the area to discover if the three towns were viable for a nextTown development, but you don't know why the properties in Riverton were being bought despite your boss, the CEO of NextTown, sending you here. I don’t know if that makes sense, Mr. Mercer," Kelsey said.

"Yes, of course, I assume all the work I do is part of NextTown, but I don't speculate who is buying a property and how. I certainly don't have any information about shell companies and the purchase of properties."

"How about manipulating property lines here in Oakridge?" Kelsey asked. "What do you know about that?"

"I—" Richard took a deep breath. "I don't know anything about that. Are you accusing me of something? I hope you have evidence. If you are accusing me of criminal activities, I must request my lawyer to be present."

"Do you want to call your lawyer?" Kelsey asked.

"Are you accusing me of committing a crime?"

"Not at the moment," Kelsey replied. "So, were you manipulating property lines in favor of NextTown?"

"No, of course not," Richard replied. "I can show you all of my recent work and activities. Everything is above board."

"Then why did the recently deceased woman write in her notepad that you were manipulating property lines?" John asked.

"I wouldn’t know," Richard said. "Did she have proof of any wrongdoing?"

"How about geographical maps of the town, charters, and other records?" Kelsey asked. "Have you checked any documents out of the archives recently?"

"The archives?" Richard asked. "No, I haven’t. What would I want with old documents? I’m here to push these towns toward the future, not drag them back to the past."

"I thought you didn’t know what you were here except to do your job," John reminded. "You said you didn't know if the development would go ahead or why properties were being bought."

"Oh, yes, very good," Richard said sarcastically. "I can see why you have such a good track record. You caught me muddling my words a little." Richard clapped slowly. "Well done, Deputy. What will you do now? Arrest me?"

"Where were you three nights ago?" Kelsey asked.

"Three nights ago?" Richard asked, thinking back. "I was in Millbrook that entire day, and I lodged at the motel that night, returning in the morning to finish my work."

"And the day after?" Kelsey asked.

"I drove to Riverton and spent the night there, doing follow-ups on the previous survey and bought properties."

"And last night and this morning?" Kelsey asked.

"I see what you’re getting at, Special Agent Hawk," Richard said. "Yes, I was here in Oakridge. Yes, I was in the towns where the murders happened, and I don't have alibis for most of the time. Yes, that is a major inconvenience for me because you will look at that and think I did it. The killer must be following me around and killing people to try and frame me. If I were the killer, I would not admit to being in the same place as the murders at the time they all happened when I don't have an alibi. I could easily say I was somewhere else, but I didn’t. I don't care about any of this nonsense happening in the towns; I just want to do my job and get the heck out of here. So, what’s it to be? Can I go back to work, or will you arrest me?"

Kelsey looked at John, and he stood up.

"Richard Mercer, you have the right to remain silent," John started.

Kelsey wasn’t entirely sure, but they had to take him in. They needed to at least get him off the streets before he did it again. He had the opportunity for all their murders and a motive for the last one.

"I won't say a word until my lawyer gets here," Richard said as John continued to read him his rights. "Rebecca, call Cameron Wells and tell him what’s happened. You will both be very sorry you ever arrested me. It was a big mistake bringing you on in the first place."

"Come on, let’s go," John said after cuffing him.

Chapter Eighteen

The drive back to Riverton police station was quiet and uneventful. Richard Mercer kept his promise and said nothing. Rebecca Lawson joined them in her own vehicle. She would no doubt update Cameron Wells on what was happening, and Kelsey wondered what Wells would do.

Is there something you need to cover up, or will you throw Richard Mercer to the wolves?  

Richard Mercer knew exactly what was going on with NextTown, Kelsey was sure of that. She had heard it in his voice and in how he had dodged the questions. He couldn’t have surveyed all the properties without knowing what was happening.

Are you trying to cover for your employers? Do you know what you are doing is wrong, even if it might be legal?

Kelsey didn't know what to expect when they brought Richard Mercer back to the station or when his lawyer arrived, but she expected questions to be dodged and answers not to be given. There was also no telling how long it would take for the lawyer to get to town. Cameron Wells could make it happen quickly, but he could just as easily make it happen at a snail’s pace.

Kelsey wanted to vocalize her thoughts with John and bounce ideas off him, but that wouldn’t happen in the presence of Richard. There was a secondary problem Kelsey only just thought of. She knew the Riverton police station well, and it had become their home base, but there were no holding cells there. They would deal with that problem when it happened.

She checked her phone and read through Sarah Matherson's list of names. There were ten names on it—ten people who might be angry enough to kill because they had lost everything they had built. Kelsey went through each one, checking the name, phone number, and address, but none of them stood out.

Officer Milton had also sent through a photo of the realtor’s card. Brian Foster served all of the local area, dealing with residential, commercial, and industrial property.

Kelsey wanted to ask Richard Mercer if he knew Brian Foster or Sarah Matherson. Had the three of them crossed paths? Did they ever work together? Richard surveyed the properties in Riverton, and passed that information on. Brian Foster sold at least one property that had been bought by a shell company. Sarah Matherson presided over the sale. They were all involved, even if they didn't conspire together.

When they arrived at Riverton station, John exited the car and went to the rear passenger door; he opened it and helped Richard Mercer out before leading him into the station for processing. Rebecca Lawson arrived immediately after them.

"Give us some time," Kelsey said to Rebecca. "We’re not questioning him until his lawyer gets here. We don't need the station full."

Rebeca twisted her lips as she stood before Kelsey. Then, she turned around and walked back to her car. All politeness had gone now that Richard Mercer had been arrested, as if Kelsey and John had personally attacked the company.

Kelsey turned from Rebecca and entered the station after John. When she entered, she went straight to Officer Milton.

"We need to hold him for now," Kelsey said.

"Okay," Officer Milton replied.

"What do you normally do?" Kelsey asked.

"Um, just have them cuffed and in a chair. There’s always someone here, so we watched over them. We’ve not had anyone make a run for it before, but we’ve not dealt with a serial killer before, so maybe we can allocate an officer to him. Usually, we ship them off to one of the larger precincts with a cell, but we have a cot we can bring out."

"He’d be better in a cell, but I want to keep him here," Kelsey said. "I want him close where I can keep an eye on him, and I don't want to do anything to delay his lawyer arriving."

"Alright," Officer Milton said. "As soon as he’s processed, I’ll allocate an officer to him, and if we need to, we can switch as shifts change. I can stay with him overnight if we need to."

"I’ll stay here, too," Kelsey said. That meant John would also stay.

For the next fourteen hours, Kelsey, Officer Milton, and John investigated anyone in the three towns who held a grudge against those who wanted to stop NextTown and other projects. They added more and more names to the original list Officer Milton had compiled. There were a lot of people between the three towns who had faced adverse hardship.

The more names they added, the harder the search would be. That was if Richard Mercer was not their killer. When Officer Milton added Brian Foster's name to the list, Kelsey called Sarah Matherson to find out more about him and to ask if they had worked together on Debbie Carter’s house. Sarah assured Kelsey there was no conspiring, but her tone suggested otherwise.

Kelsey was sure it was not the only property they had conspired on, but she would follow up on that after talking with Richard Mercer. Brian Foster had once owned a pharmacy in Millbrook, but it had gone under after years of struggling as residents moved to online orders and shopping in the city when they were there. Sarah had helped him get back on his feet, and he had attended her group for a while. He found work as a realtor.

Was that through you, too, Sarah? Did you push him into that so you could force people to sell and have someone waiting to do the deal for you?

Dark settled, and only four of them remained in the office. Richard Mercer was handcuffed to the cot he lay on, while Kelsey, John, and Officer Milton worked at a separate desk. It was around two when Kelsey placed her head on the desk to rest her eyes for a moment.

***

Kelsey shot up in her chair, the left side of her face numb. She felt as if someone had taken her face and squashed it with their hands, misshaping it like modeling clay.

John was on his feet beside her. She had no idea if he or Officer Milton had also been sleeping, but she knew the source of her curt awakening. The door to the police station had opened, and two men were striding toward them.

The first man was slim and had slicked-back hair. He carried a briefcase. The second man, a foot taller than the first, had a shaved head and a small scar above his left eyebrow. Both men wore black suits.

The smaller man spoke before he reached them. "I would like to talk to my client in private. What is this?" He scoffed. "Are you camping out in the building? I request that my client have these ridiculous handcuffs removed this instant. You are very close to being sued. I’d like to have my client checked over before he answers any questions. Then, we will leave."

Kelsey rose to her feet, aware there might be creases on her face. "Your client is part of a murder investigation and has been less than forthcoming. He has no alibi, he hasn’t cooperated with us, and there are additional crimes we could arrest him for. If you want your client released, I request you prepare him for questioning as soon as possible."

The lawyer wasn’t used to being talked to that way, and a wave of anger flared in his eyes. He wanted to say something, but he knew he would regret it if he did. All he said was, "The handcuffs?"

John watched the larger of the two.

Kelsey nodded to Officer Milton for the handcuffs to be removed.

The larger man stepped forward as the lawyer approached his client. He held out his hand, which Kelsey shook.

"David Cooper," he introduced himself. "I am Mr. Wells, head of security. He sent me here to ensure the safety of Mr. Mercer and Miss Lawson. He is well aware of how it looks when someone is arrested, and he doesn't want this to turn into a witch-hunt."

"These are small towns," Kelsey said, "but that doesn't mean they get out the pitchforks and torches at the first sign of trouble."

"I appreciate that is not the case, but three locals have been murdered, and you believe you have enough to arrest Mr. Mercer. If you really are the best at this, then the townspeople will have no reason to doubt the direction of the investigation. I am sure he will be protected while in custody, but it is when he is let out that I worry about. Mr. Wells wanted me to inform you that I am here to help the investigation in any way needed."

"Here to help or here to watch over us?" John asked.

"Here to help," David Cooper said. "I understand your suspicion, and Mr. Wells does want me to report back on everything that happens here, but we all want to put an end to the killings. You were brought in after the first, and there have been two more. That is no progress. Will there be more?"

"Not if Richard Mercer is our killer," John said.

David turned to Kelsey.

"Yes, there could be more," she said. "We can't stop you from being here, and you are within your rights to protect the NextTown employees, but we are in charge of this investigation, and if you get in our way, we will arrest you for obstruction."

"That sounds fair to me," David said. He spoke with an even tone that was almost calming. "I will go for breakfast with Miss Lawson, and then we can talk after you have questioned Mr. Mercer."

"That might take some time," Kelsey said.

"Mr. Dalton can be agreeable," David Cooper said. "He is likely upset that Mr. Mercer is forced to sleep on such a cot. I’m sure by the time I return, you will have all of this figured out."

Kelsey didn't reply to David. She watched him walk toward the door and leave the station, carefully closing the door behind him. No sooner had he exited than the lawyer spoke

"Let’s get this over with," Mr. Dalton said.

John moved first, bringing chairs over to the table by the wall and moving that, too, so they could set up two chairs on either side

"Officer Milton," Kelsey said. "It’s early, so we won't likely be disturbed, but could you stay by the door and keep any arriving officers out for now? We want this to go as smoothly as possible."

Officer Milton nodded and went to the door. John placed the chairs on either side of the table, and he sat down in one, Kelsey joining him. Shortly after, Richard Mercer and his lawyer sat down.

"Mr. Mercer has something he would like to say," Mr. Dalton said.

"Go ahead," Kelsey added.

Richard Mercer sat up straighter in his chair and wrung his hands together. "I take full responsibility for easing and falsifying property lines. I was tasked to come into these three towns and survey the sites, and I took it upon myself to manipulate the property lines for the benefit of my employer, who had no knowledge of what I was doing."

Something about the entire speech felt rehearsed and rang untrue.

"I have worked for NextTown and Mr. Wells for four years, and they have given me every opportunity to grow and learn with the company. When I believed it would be tricky for the development to enter the towns of Millbrook, Oakridge, and Riverton, I took it upon myself to make it easier for NextTown. I, under no duress from anyone else, committed fraud and changed the records. I believed I was doing NextTown a favor by changing the property boundaries as thanks for all they have done for me. When I look back now, I realize just how misguided I have been, and I admit to it completely. I will write a formal statement giving my confession and await trial. I deserve whatever punishment comes my way."

Richard Mercer finished and looked down at the table.

"Are we good?" Mr. Dalton asked.

"No, we are not good," Kelsey said. "Admitting to one crime does not make your client innocent of another." She addressed Richard directly. "If this is the truth, we will take your confession, but if you are lying, you will still go to jail for obstructing justice. Whatever the truth is, we can help you, Mr. Mercer."

"Are you suggesting my client is lying to cover for someone else?" Mr. Dalton asked. "Be careful in your accusation, Special Agent Hawk."

"I’m only asking for the truth," Kelsey replied.

Richard shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It’s the truth," he said. "I committed the crime, and only me."

"How about Sarah Matherson or Brian Foster?" Kelsey asked. "Did you work with them?"

"I don't know who they are," Richard replied.

"And the shell companies?" Kelsey asked. "You admit to falsifying the boundaries. Then, the properties were bought by shell companies."

"I don't know anything about that," Richard said. "All I know is I falsified the surveys and changed the boundary lines."

"And the three murders?" Kelsey asked. "You were in the same place as all three. You have already admitted you are a criminal. What are we supposed to think, Mr. Mercer?"

"I didn't kill anyone," Richard said.

"Special Agent Hawk," Mr. Dalton said, "if you want to arrest my client for murder, go ahead, but it will go to trial, and you have no evidence he did it except being in the same place. No jury will convict him, especially when he is already being truthful about his crimes. You will have a full confession from my client, and that is a win for us all. You boost your arrest record and can get back to catching the killer. If you truly believe my client is the killer, then he will be in jail anyway, so everyone in the area can sleep soundly. Do you have any additional questions?"

Kelsey thought about it for a moment. "No, we don’t. We’ll take the confession and then have a car come to transport him to a facility."

"My client can write the confession now, and I have already ordered a patrol car to come from Fargo to take him to the prison there. We figured you would want to get back to the case. There’s no use in tying you up with grout work."

Kelsey stared at the lawyer for a second before getting up from the table. John joined her. They walked away, leaving Richard Mercer and his lawyer.

"What do you think?" John asked.

"I don't think he is our killer, but I have nothing to go on. The lawyer is right. If he is the killer, he will be off the streets," Kelsey said. "If my hunch is right and there are to be more killings, then we know for sure. If there are no more murders, we circle back to Richard Mercer. My only worry is that he is taken back to Fargo, and Cameron Wells uses his money and power to have Ricard Mercer released."

"We’ll keep tabs on him," John said. "For now, we focus on the case and figure out if our killer is still out there."

Chapter Nineteen

Kelsey and John sat at a desk together in the Riverton police station. Officer Milton had gone home to get some rest after being up most of the night. Richard Mercer had left in a patrol car to go to Fargo and be held there until he was formally charged and imprisoned. They both hoped that would happen. Cameron Wells was a billionaire, and he could throw his money around.

They still had the police station to themselves. None of the other officers had arrived yet, and David Cooper, the NextTown head of security, and Rebecca Lawson were out to breakfast.

"I don't like him being here," John said. "I don't buy that he’s here only for protection."

"I don't either," Kelsey said. "That might be part of it, but he’s here to ensure the investigation goes as they want it to. I still don't know what direction that is. Richard Mercer is obviously guilty, but his confession doesn't ring completely true. I don't know if Cameron Wells has something on him or bribed him, but Richard Mercer wasn’t doing that all by himself. I want to talk with Sarah Matherson again, see if she was a part of it."

"He still could be the killer," John noted. "It would look bad for them if one of their own was killing. It would end the development. So, they send the lawyer, force him into the confession to protect them and for Richard Mercer to protect himself, and cart him off to Fargo. It gets him off the streets and stops the killings, but it’s not justice."

"Okay, so we have two ways to go on this," Kelsey said. "Either Richard Mercer is our killer, or he’s not. If he is, then we need to prove he did it. He was in the right place at the right time, and he had some motive, but we have no direct evidence. His lawyer was rushing to get him out of here, so maybe we should search where he stayed and look for anything."

"What if he’s not our killer?" John asked.

"Then we still need to find our killer," Kelsey said. "If it’s not Richard Mercer, then we are back to it being a local resident who wants to bring investment into the towns. To me, everything points to someone removing the obstacles for NextTown and killing almost in a sacrificial way to bless the towns. I don't know. If the killer wanted to remove the obstacles, they could dispose of the bodies where they would not be found or leave them anywhere. But they didn’t. They purposely left the bodies out, in the exact centers of the town, forming a triangle where the NextTown development would be. It’s a blessing in blood to bring it to fruition. Maybe a warning to others to keep their mouths shut when the next vote comes up."

"Mercer was defining lying about being the sole operator here. NextTown is involved, which also makes it less likely he killed for NextTown. Manipulating properties is one thing, but I can't see Cameron Wells going for murder to force his development through. I would bet on Cameron Wells ordering Richard Mercer to do what he did and then making him cover up the mess, but not murder."

"Okay, so we are agreed," Kelsey said. "We both don't think Richard Mercer killed the three victims. That means the list we have collated of anyone who might be unhappy at not having an outside investment is our official suspect list. We start with those who lost the most and the most vocal supporters of either NextTown or any investment in general. We move through the list one at a time and hope we hit on something."

"You wanted to talk to Sarah Matherson again," John said. "She set up that group. There’s a good chance she knows the people on the list better than anyone. I don't trust her either, but we should bring her in."

"Yeah, we should," Kelsey said.

***

An hour later, Sarah Matherson sat opposite Kelsey and John at the same table where they had interviewed Richard Mercer. Kelsey had never been nervous in an interview before, and she wasn’t nervous now, but the presence of David Cooper on the other side of the room was mildly annoying. He sat on a desk eating from a bag of nuts, watching them even if he couldn't hear what was being said or influence the interview in any way.

Kelsey did worry he would approach during the interview and try to join.

"Sarah, thank you for coming back in this morning," Kelsey said. "We just arrested Richard Mercer for fraud. He was manipulating property lines."

She watched Sarah as the news was broken to her. Was there a twitch in her eye? A tightening of her lips?

"Oh," Sarah said. "I don't really know what that means."

"That’s interesting because he alluded that you knew exactly what was going on," Kelsey said. It was a fabrication, but she needed to know if there was more to the story. The more they had on Mercer, the easier it would be to get an honest confession for the fraud and the murders.

"What did… he say?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know if I fully believe everything he said," Kelsey replied. "He is covering for his employers. He did mention the three of you worked together."

"The three of us?" Sarah asked.

"Richard manipulated the property lines, you forced the sales, and Brian Foster dealt with the actual sale," Kelsey said, making a guess. "You had quite the operation going."

"It wasn’t…No, Brian wasn’t involved. He’s been through the wringer and is finally building something for himself. I shouldn’t have involved him in any of this. I thought he could use the money." She looked heartbroken that Brian was accused of wrongdoing.

"We don't need to talk about that right now," Kelsey said. "You pressured people into selling, but as long as you didn't commit a crime, you are in the clear. We can talk at length about Richard Mercer later unless you can tell us anything about him over the past four days. Have you been in contact with him?"

"No, we haven’t spoken," Sarah said. "Am I in trouble?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Kelsey said. "You wanted to help the town by inviting NextTown in. I can't tell you whether that was the right or wrong decision. All I can ask is for you to help us in our investigations and put an end to the killings. We only want information on some people. Can you do that for us?"

Sarah tried not to blink so her mascara wouldn’t run. "Whatever I can do to help. I only wanted to help; you have to believe me."

Kelsey wasn’t sure if she believed the woman. Perhaps Sara believed it, or maybe she liked the power she would wield over others. She knew her decision and forced it on others. That was not how a democratic country should run. She took people’s voices, selling them out to NextTown.

"We need you to take a look at this list," Kelsey said, sliding the list of names across to Sarah. "We know you know a lot of the people on this list. All we need to know are the people who really lost everything, and those who were in support of NextTown. If there is anyone on the list who is fanatical or angry or anything else, we need to know."

"You think one of them is the killer," Sarah said softly.

"If they are, we need to bring them in and stop the murders," Kelsey said. "You can help us with that." Kelsey patted the document. "Help us out, okay?"

Sarah stared down at the list of names and nodded.

"We’ll give you some time," Kelsey said as she stood up. "Do you need a coffee or anything else?"

"No, thank you," Sara said softly.

Kelsey took a step from the table when another thought struck her. They were attacking the problem from one side, but they hadn’t attacked it from the other side yet. Kelsey stopped in her tracks, turned, and sat back down at the table. Sarah looked up at her.

"I just thought of something," Kelsey said. "The killer wants NextTown to revitalize the three towns and create a hub of smart cities here. I’m sure of that. The three people killed so far were against NextTown. Sarah, who else in the area was critical of NextTown?"

"I don't know everyone for sure, but many people in each of the three towns would have voted against it," Sarah replied.

"Voting against it is one thing, but who could stop the project? Martin Whitaker had the ear of his town, and he shouted people down. Harold Kensington could sway the council in Millbrook. Jennifer Martinez exposed Richard Mercer. Who else had that sort of power to bring NextTown to their knees."

Sarah thought about it for a few seconds. "I don't know; maybe George Peterson."

"Who’s George Peterson?" Kelsey asked.

"He was a judge," Sarah said. "He lives on a ranch outside of Oakridge now. There was talk a while back that he was preparing a class action lawsuit against NextTown, but I haven’t heard anything for a while. He’s the only person I can think of who could actually do something. If he is preparing a lawsuit."

"Thank you," Kelsey said. "Keep going with the names, and let Deputy Gallant know when you're done."

She left Sarah and went to John. "Stay here with her until someone gets in. I don't what the head of security left with her alone."

John nodded.

"Call me when you have some names," Kelsey said. "As soon as I find an address for George Peterson, I’ll pay him a visit. If he’s the next victim, then we can keep him safe before the killer gets to him. If the killer is still out there."

Chapter Twenty

Kelsey drove in John’s truck. When she left Riverton police station, she wanted to get to George Peterson’s house quickly, but she was not worried. The closer she got to her destination, the faster her heart beat, as if the killer was also heading there, and the ex-judge’s fate would be decided by who arrived first. Either Kelsey would arrive, and he would be safe, or the killer would beat her to it, becoming judge, jury, and executioner.

She took the off-ramp, turning onto a smaller road toward George Peterson’s ranch. He had once been a judge presiding over a number of criminal cases, most of them concerning business fraud and malpractice. Kelsey hoped he wasn’t caught in the middle of a murder investigation.

Her chest tightened more as she drove the last of the route to his residence. Every second counted in her mind. She didn't want to get to his house a moment too late and lose another to the killer. It was never easy working a case when she knew another murder was coming, and she could do nothing about it, but it was doubly worse this time with Cameron Wells having eyes on her.

Rebecca Lawson was bad enough, but David Cooper could be more of a problem. He was there as personal security for Rebecca Lawson, but that security would extend to NextTown. How far would he go to protect their interests? How far had he been ordered to go?

She had seen the look in David’s eyes when she left the police station. He had not asked her where she was going, but he may have heard enough to know. The keen look in his brown eyes told of him wanting to go with her to chase down the judge and perhaps catch a killer, but Rebecca Lawson was his primary concern. And Riverton was the hub from where he could keep watch over everything. There might come a time when he stepped in to help, and that also worried Kelsey.

Just not as much as the possibility of Judge Peterson not being in his home.

Kelsey’s body loosened a little when she saw the ranch up ahead. It was not the house itself but the dark green Jeep parked out front. A fabric tent over a metal frame created a makeshift garage to protect it from hail and dust stirred up by the wind. She hadn’t checked what vehicle George drove but was sure it was his when she got to the house. The tires were dirty, with mud sprays covering a couple of inches of the bodywork around the wheels. The Jeep looked like it got regular use.

Kelsey still exited the car quickly, tapping her hip to ensure her gun was in its holster. The two-story ranch was new, likely newly built in the last ten years.

A retirement home that you had built especially?

The siding was pale yellow cedar with a clear stain. The window and doors were new, and the shallow roof was also covered with cedar. A large shed stood to the left side of the residence, painted red to look like a barn, complete with double doors at the front.

Kelsey saw no sign of a second vehicle. The ground was dry, making it hard to see any tire tracks coming or going from the building. The door was closed, no sign of forced entry. That didn't mean much. There was no forced entry with the three victims—the killer had either lured them out or waited for them to be alone. George Peterson was retired. Would that make it harder to get him alone? The killer was moving quickly, and Kelsey was certain he would strike soon.

She knocked on the door. "George Peterson! George Peterson!"

She stopped knocking and listened. Silence from inside.

Kelsey knocked again. "Mr. Peterson! This is the FBI. Open up, please!"

Still silence from inside. Kelsey pressed her ear to the door but heard nothing.

She turned the handle, but the door was locked. She looked to her left at the car sitting in the enclosure.

Do you have a second vehicle? Are you off on an errand somewhere?

Kelsey moved from the door to the front window. She looked through to see the living room beyond: a couch, chair, large filled bookshelves, radio but no TV, and pictures on the wall of his family. Everything was neat. Everything had a place. Kelsey could see through the door at the back of the living room toward the kitchen but couldn’t see much of the room.

She stood back and looked up. There were two windows on the upper floor. Kelsey moved around the side of the building (no windows) to the rear. She went to the door first, trying that, but it was also locked. She stood back from the house, looking up. Two windows on the upper floor, one slightly open. Kelsey went to the kitchen window and looked in.

Everything was as neat as the living room. The cupboard doors were closed, the small dining table and two chairs were spotless, and the counter had been wiped down recently. The only sign that someone lived there was the plate by the sink with breadcrumbs on it.

Kelsey stared into the house. Everything looked as it should have been, but the hairs on the back of her neck still prickled. She didn't know what she picked up, but it still felt wrong. There was a black rock in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down, telling her that she was already too late.

The downspout from the gutters on the roof looked solid… enough. She went to it and pulled on it to check. The plastic pipe had a little give, but it was firmly attached to the wall.

She could wait for backup or break a window, but the window was open and inviting her in. Kelsey pulled on the downspout one more time to check it and then hoisted herself up, garbing the pipe with her feet before pushing herself up. She continued that way, moving six inches at a time. When she was level with the window, she gripped on tight and took a breath.

Kelsey grabbed the downspout with one hand and both feet and reached to her right.

She looked down. It wasn’t high, but gripping onto a pipe that shifted with her weight and the hard ground below her made it feel like a hundred feet. She wavered for a second as she reached out. Kelsey brought her body back and grabbed the pipe again to steady herself. She glanced down at the ground once she was secured, facing her fear.

Heights had never been a fear of hers, but holding onto a barely secured pipe while reaching with her fingertips for a window ten feet above the hard ground was enough to make her upper body tremble slightly.

She reached out again. The threat of losing someone else to the killer was enough to drive her forward past any fear. She touched the edge of the window, walking her fingers across it to stretch out her body and gain a better grip.

One foot slipped, then the other, and suddenly, her body swung like a pendulum below the window. Her fingers ached as they held on. She threw up her other arm, grabbing on with her fingertips, letting her body swing to the opposite side of the window and back. She didn't move a muscle.

She felt the strain as she didn't move. She could hold on for now but had to do something soon, or the strength would be drained, and she would fall from the window. The fall would not kill her, but it would hurt.

Kelsey took a short breath, worried that anything more would disturb her grip. She felt the flat surface beneath her fingertips. She breathed evenly through her nose, knowing she had not moved in far too long. Then, she jerked herself up and grabbed the window surround. Metal dug into her palms as her body dropped again. She didn't rest now that she had a grip on the window. With the last of her strength, she hoisted herself up to look into the bedroom.

It was empty. Kelsey pulled herself up, pulling her body through the half-open window and into the room with a thud. Her shoulders ached from the exertion, but she was on her feet in a flash with her gun drawn.

"George Peterson! This is the FBI!"

No response.

Kelsey went to the large wardrobe and opened the door, revealing clothing and nothing more. She moved out of the room and down the short hallway, pointing her gun into a second bedroom, study, and bathroom—all empty. Kelsey turned and pointed her gun down the stairs.

It felt as if a thread was attached to her gun, and someone on the other end was pulling her through the home. She followed the gun down the stairs, into the main entranceway, through the living room, and into the kitchen.

Kelsey stopped dead.

Everything was neat. Everything had its place. Everything except for the broken cup on the floor and the large pool of tan coffee was not visible from the kitchen window. The coffee was smeared in part where a hand had been pushed through it. Then, a couple of drips leading to the back door. Kelsey couched down by the rear door. Three drips of blood on the white floor.

She pulled out her phone and called John, who answered immediately.

"He has him," Kelsey said. "The killer has George Peterson."

Chapter Twenty One

"You’re sure?" John asked.

"There’s signs of a struggle in George Peterson’s house," Kelsey said. "A smashed coffee cup and blood." She had opened the back door and stood out back, looking for any other signs of a struggle: more blood or drag marks. "He already bludgeoned the judge. It won't be long before he kills him."

"I have a list of people who have reason to be angry," John said. "We have to take a shot at this. We take the first five on the list and find them. We have to hope we get to him before George Peterson is killed."

"Who do we have?" Kelsey asked.

"Winston Briggs lost his family home three years ago," John said. "It wasn’t directly because of any outside influence, but his family built that home when Riverton was founded, and it has been in the family ever since. Donald Fenster lost his construction business when three big-box stores were rejected for Oakridge. Linda Furrow was on the council in Oakridge and voted against every investment in the town. She was barred from ever being on the council again after the others voted her out. Marcy Smith has campaigned for NextTown in multiple small towns across the state, often being described as fanatical. Barry Yates made threats to the town council in Millbrook after they voted against a development a year ago."

"That’s our five?" Kelsey asked. "They all lost something?"

"They have all sold either houses or businesses in the past two years, and Sarah Matherson pinpointed them as the most vocal in her support group. I know it’s not much to go on, but those are the people she suggests are the most likely to have done something about it. Do you want to take the first, and I’ll take the second, and we can send officers to the other three? I know we are thinking the killer is male, but we can't discount anyone."

"Let me think," Kelsey said.

I’m sure it’s a man if someone is bludgeoning people and dragging their bodies around. Someone who has lost a lot, who is a supporter of NextTown, who has an interest in local geography. They stole the maps and positioned the bodies. Perhaps someone who can move between the three towns without being suspicious. They stole records from multiple places, but there was no sign of break-ins. Do they know the clerk in Oakridge? Peter in Riverton? Would they have access to the offices?

"Is Sarah Matherson still there?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, she is," John replied.

"Put her on," Kelsey instructed. "Something doesn't feel right."

"Okay, give me a second."

The next voice Kelsey heard was Sarah’s. "Hello?"

"Sarah, your list doesn't include Brian Foster," Kelsey said.

"No, he couldn’t have done this."

"You mentioned previously that he’s been through the wringer. That he’s lost more than most. What happened to him?" Kelsey asked.

"He’s a good person," Sarah said. "He wasn’t directly involved in the plan to sell properties to NextTown. I pressured him into that."

"Did you or did he do it of his own volition?" Kelsey asked.

"I… I don’t remember exactly. It came up, I think, and then I had the idea to use him to make the sales."

"What did he lose?" Kelsey asked.

"He, um, owned a pharmacy. His family owned the pharmacy, and it went out of business, and his parents moved away, and they died shortly after, and he had to sell his house and downsize, but he was always pleasant in our meetings."

"Does he support NextTown?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, but many do."

"And his work. Does it take him between the three towns?" Kelsey asked.

"It does and to the surrounding area, but there are many people who work in all three towns."

‘How about the clerk’s office in Oakridge? Could he have access to records there?" Kelsey continued.

"I know he went in there from time to time for information."

"And the surveyor's office in Riverton?" Kelsey asked.

"He did speak of the intern there who was very helpful."

"He would have access to the maps," Kelsey thought out loud.

"Maps, yes," Sarah said quietly. "He spoke about maps to me once. He loved historical maps and the order of them. He was fascinated by the past and future."

"I need to know where he lives," Kelsey said. "Give me the address and put John back on the phone."

Sarah did as she was asked, her voice shaking as she told Kelsey that he lived in an old farm building between Oakridge and Riverton.

"I’m back," John said.

"Send people to the five at the top of the list," Kelsey said. "I’m going after Brian Foster. I think he’s our killer."

***

Kelsey arrived first at the farmhouse. She knew John would not be far behind, and it would be much safer to wait before entering, but she had no intention of doing that. The truck screeched to a halt outside the farmhouse, Kelsey jerking forward and then back into the seat. She unbuckled her seatbelt, exited the vehicle, and drew her gun.

Nervous excitement coursed through her. She was sure she had their killer, but a voice in the back of her mind always asked, "What if you are wrong?"

There was no hard evidence, only a feeling that Kelsey got when she put it all together. Looking at the profile she had created in her mind over the past few days, Brian Foster fit every part. However, if she were asked for proof that he was the killer, she wouldn’t be able to give it.

She hoped to find the proof in his house. The best-case scenario was them finding George Peterson unconscious but alive and then taking Brian Foster alive to face trial.

That was the dream, but that dream was slowly slipping away, much like dreams did upon waking. When she arrived at the ex-judge’s house, she expected him to be there because his car was. There was no vehicle parked at Brian Foster’s home, and Kelsey knew he wouldn’t be there.

The old farmhouse was… old. Brick walls were held together with chipping and crumbling cement. Paint was a distant memory. It was not chipping, the only thing left was paint chips. The roof was ripped, with moss covering almost all of it. The yard was well-maintained, but the house in the middle was not.

Even as she ran toward the house, she didn't expect to find anyone inside.

Kelsey tried the door first, no knocking, but trying the handle. It was locked. She went to the front window, looking in as she had done at George Peterson’s house. The house looked more lived in, but there was still a neatness to it. The black mold on the interior wall overshadowed that neatness. Kelsey could almost smell the dampness and decay through the window.

She moved around the house, looking through the other windows and finding nothing. The interior was a sad place, and she couldn’t imagine living in that house. It was Brian Foster’s home, and it must have reminded him every day of what he had lost.

Kelsey reached for the handle on the kitchen door at the back of the house, which was locked but with a lot of give. She pulled hard on the door, and the small metal snib going from the door into the frame was pulled clear of the hole. The door opened.

Kelsey pointed her gun into the house as the smell hit her. It was not overpowering, but it was a moldy smell that was permanently there.

"Brown Foster!" Kelsey shouted. "This is the FBI! I’m coming in, and I’m armed. Make yourself known!"

Kelsey stepped in and swung to the left and right, covering the entire kitchen. She moved quickly into the home, knowing it was still a race against time. Even if they found Brian Foster and George Peterson, there might be no stopping the kill.

She moved into the hallway, past a study with papers on the wall, into the living room, through into another hallway, past a bathroom, and into the bedroom. The house was empty. She approached the bed, staring at the cream pillow. Was it a stain, or was it blood on the pillow?

Did you bring him here? Am I just too late again?

Something tugged at Kelsey as if a string were attached to her again. She moved back through the house to the study, where documents were on the wall. Only it was not documents, but maps, old maps, the maps stolen from multiple places. Kelsey didn't know that for sure, but she felt it was right.

She went to the maps, studying them, examining the towns and their topography. There were no marks on them, nothing to confirm that Brian Foster had picked his spots before he made the kills. She went to the desk. Multiple files about NextTown were sprawled over the wooden top. She rifled through them. Beneath was a copy of the class action lawsuit, the early stages of it. George Peterson’s name was scribbled over on the front page.

Kelsey went through the drawers, finding nothing conclusive even though she was sure Brian was the killer. Then, a wooden box. She opened it to find a velvet interior, the bottom half shaped and padded to hold a small dagger, but the dagger was gone.

The murder weapon? You have it and George Peterson, and you are taking him to the final kill point.

Kelsey left the room and took out her phone, dialing Peter Burke.

"My intern finally showed up," he said when he answered.

"The middle point, the hub of the smart town project from NextTown," Kelsey said. "Where would it be if the three towns were redeveloped?"

"Chapman’s Field," Peter said immediately. "There’s nothing there right now, but that is where they would build the central hub if everything we have so far is correct,"

"Good," Kelsey said. "Send me the coordinates of the field."

She hung up and left the house. She raised her gun as a car screeched to a halt beside John’s truck. Kelsey lowered the gun when John stepped out of the silver car on the passenger side, followed by David Cooper.

"I needed a ride," he said.

Kelsey’s phone pinged.

"We need to go," Kelsey said. "I know where he is going to kill George Peterson."

Chapter Twenty Two

"There were maps in his home," Kelsey explained on the way to Chapman’s Field. "They must be the ones stolen from the archives and surveyor’s office, perhaps the clerk’s office. And NextTown plans and the public suit against NextTown. There’s likely more in his study, in his house, but it has to be him."

"We take him down and end this," John said. He looked in the rearview mirror as they drove.

"I don't like him following us," Kelsey said, talking about David Cooper in the vehicle behind.

"I don't either," John admitted. "I don't know if there is much we can do about that. We have to hope that he doesn't get in the way."

"Is he carrying?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, he is," John said. "When we left the police station, I caught sight of a holster under his jacket."

"Let’s hope he doesn't try to take matters into his own hands and get justice," Kelsey said.

"Maybe that was the plan all along," John suggested. "What if Cameron Wells sent him here to kill our killer, and he comes out of this as a hero."

"Only if he kills Brian Foster to save George Peterson," Kelsey said. "Which, unfortunately, might be the case right now."

"NextTown looks like the saviors of these small towns, and they force through the deal based on that," John said.

"Then let’s make sure we are the ones to take down Brian Foster," Kelsey said. "He’s used a knife to kill the previous three victims, and he will have that knife with him, but I have no idea if he’s carrying a gun."

"Then we treat him like he is," John said. "How close are we?"

Kelsey looked at the flag on the map on her phone and the blue dot approaching it on the dirt road. "We are getting closer. We can't get too close, or we tip him off."

"If he sees us, he might keep George Peterson as a hostage," John said.

"Or he might panic and kill him," Kelsey said. "I saw his house. He’s desperate enough to do it. This is not only about removing the obstacles to NextTown to move into the area, but I do believe he is making sacrifices. His last act in this life might be to kill George to complete his plan. He dies knowing he did some good in the world, even though we know he didn’t."

"Alright, we approach from a distance and take the shot if he looks like he’s going to go through with it," John said.

Kelsey watched the map. She looked ahead, checking the landscape in front and measuring it against the landscape on the map on her phone. She checked in the side mirror to see David Cooper was right behind them.

"Stop here," Kelsey said.

John didn't just stop, he put the brakes on and then turned the truck to the side, blocking the road. He was the first out of the vehicle, and he moved to the other side of the road to stop David from driving past them.

"What are you doing?" David demanded as Kelsey got out.

"You won't listen to us, but I won't have you jeopardizing this mission," John said. He had led a team in Afghanistan, and in that situation, one wrong move, one person not following orders, was the difference between life and death.

David turned off the ignition and got out, walking toward John. John stood his ground.

"Try anything funny, and I will take you down," John warned. David was bigger than John, but John’s tone suggested he would do as he said. "You’re here for protection," John reminded him. "This is our territory now. If we get too close, the killer panics, and we lose another life, possibly two. If we do this our way, we save a life and take Brian Foster alive. Don't make me arrest you. Don't delay us and make the death of George Peterson your fault."

David Cooper stood unwavering before John. "I’m coming along. Either you work with me, or I will take matters into my own hands." It was clear that he was not leaving quietly.

"Stay behind us and do as we say," John told him. "We won't lose someone because of you. Step out of line, and you will be arrested. Do I make myself clear?"

Kelsey watched John stand his ground with a man who looked like he would do some serious damage. David Cooper was used to being in charge, but he was not in the current situation.

"We don't have time for this," Kelsey said. "Mr. Cooper, you will assist us only if asked. Step one foot out of line, and I will make it known that you are to blame for anything that gets wrong, and the blame will also fall on Cameron Wells and NextTown." Kelsey didn't wait for a verbal agreement. They really didn't have the time.

It would have been beneficial to approach the potential final crime scene from their direction, but she didn't trust David Cooper.

"There is a hedge row along the road," Kelsey said. "John, take David with you. You are to approach without being seen. Get as close to the suspect as possible while remaining out of sight."

John nodded, looking toward David. He didn't say a word, not liking being told what to do. Kelsey knew he was put out, but he was the face of the company right now. The warning was a valid one, and she was sure he would listen.

Mostly sure.

"I’ll take a route through the trees from here," Kelsey continued. "The trees line this side of Chapman’s field and loop around the west side. We take up positions on either side of the field. The flag Peter Burke sent me is in the middle of the field. We have two ways to approach this. If one of us is directly behind Brian Foster, I’ll give the command for one of us to approach and try to take him out. If we can't do that, we move together and take him out if there is no risk to the hostage."

"And if we can't do either?" David asked—the first words he’d spoken in some time.

"We figure that out when it comes time," Kelsey said. "Are we set on the plan?"

John and David nodded.

Just to be safe, Kelsey added, "If you need to take him out of the situation, do it. I’ll do the rest on my own."

John looked at David. "I’ll do what’s needed."

"Okay, let’s move," Kelsey said.

She turned and ran into the trees. She didn't like that David Cooper was along for the ride, but there was not a lot they could do. She wanted John with her and would rather David tag along with him than both of them stay behind. It was a calculated risk.

Kelsey watched the ground as she ran, scanning for fallen branches or roots poking out of the ground. She needed to move quickly but had to get there in one piece. Nervous energy had coursed through her at George Peterson’s and Brian Foster's houses. That energy was back with a vengeance. Her heart beat quicker as the ticking clock ticked in her mind. The clock would eventually reach zero, and George Peterson would be killed, but there was no way to tell how long that would take.

It was a race against an unknown time.

Kelsey’s heart skipped a beat and then thudded in her chest when she caught sight of a figure in the field. It was dark in the trees, and she was confident she wouldn’t be seen, but if she could see the figure, there was a chance they could see her. She tried to run and watch the figure.

It has to be him. Does he have George Peterson with him?

It was hard to get a fix on the figure while also sprinting through the trees. She couldn’t hear anything but the rushing of wind in her ears. Would someone hear if she tripped and fell?

Kelsey pushed herself twenty yards more and then came to a stop, panting to catch her breath. She stared at the dark figure in the middle of the field, trying to work out exactly what was happening. It was hard as her chest rose and fell, her entire body moving with it.

A quick glance at the hedgerow on the opposite side of the field didn’t show anything. She knew, hoped, John and David were on the other side of the hedge, unseen and still in agreement on what happened next.

The dark figure in the middle of the field untangled itself. It was crystal clear now. One figure was kneeling on the ground, manipulating a second person. She couldn't see the faces, but she knew they were Brian Foster and George Peterson.

I can't see his face because he is facing away from me.

Kelsey took her phone from her pocket, hoping John was ready to act.

She sent a text: I’m approaching. Wait for me to have my gun on him before you approach from your side.

Kelsey stuck her phone back in her pocket, drew her gun, and stepped out of the tree line.

You’re positioning the body. We still have time.

Kelsey didn’t run, walking as quickly as she could, keeping the gun level and her footsteps light. She didn't want to shoot him from such a distance. The gun was aimed at his back, but from her elevated position compared to his kneeling position meant the gunshot would be at an angle, which gave a real chance George Peterson would be hit, too.

If Brian Foster turned and spotted her or drew his knife to stab George, she would have no choice. She could go for his head, but his back presented the best target. A headshot would protect George more, but it was harder. If she shot for his head and missed, he would have a chance to bring the knife down before she took a second shot.

How much of a risk am I willing to take?

Halfway to the middle of the field, Kelsey felt like she was no longer running on grass but on air. Sounds melted away as she focused only on the two men before her. Brian took George’s arm and leaned over George to point it out from the body. He took his other arm and pulled it behind him, turning slightly.

Kelsey was close enough. "Hands in the air, Brian!"

She took in the scene quickly. He didn't have a knife in his hands. No gun, either.

Brian turned, holding George’s arm, shock in his eyes on seeing the woman running toward him with a gun in her hands. He moved, and Kelsey shot just above his head. Brian flinched, bringing his head down. His hands shot up into the air.

Kelsey took a step to the side to move around him, and she saw a glint of metal. Brian shifted slightly.

"Don’t!" Kelsey warned.

John and David sprinted from the hedge toward Brown, guns drawn. John ran slightly ahead of David, positioning himself between the head of security and Brian Foster. They wanted to take him alive.

Brian’s body jerked again at Kelsey’s warning, his hands staying in the air. Kelsey stopped moving. The knife was visible on George's chest. It lay across it, not in it. The knife rose and fell as George breathed.

How quick are you, Brian? One move, and I take you down.

She didn't like it, still. George was too close to Brian. She trusted herself and John but knew nothing about David.

"It’s over," Kelsey said. "This is what I want you to do."

"No, it’s not over," Brian said. "It won't be over until I kill him."

"The project will die like the other three," Kelsey said. "Once they know why you did it, NextTown won't build here or anytime in the future. Killing George Peterson only makes things worse."

"No, you don't understand," Brian said, his hands still in the air. "I have to finish this, or it won't work."

John stopped before Brian, his gun pointed at the man’s chest. David arrived beside John.

"It’s done, Brian. It’s over," Kelsey said, wishing for him to fall backward and take himself away from the knife.

"I will save them all," Brian said.

It all happened so quickly. David stepped past John, pointing his gun at Brian's chest.

"No!" Kelsey shouted.

John swung around instinctually, knocking David’s arm to the side. David fired, and the bullet whistled past Brian. Brian lunged for the knife, grabbing it and covering George Peterson in the process. Kelsey's finger twitched, but to shoot now meant hitting them both. David tried to wrestle with John to knock him out of the way and take the shot. Kelsey held her gun, waiting for her moment.

Brian had the knife, and he sat back up, holding the knife by his own chest to bring it down toward George’s heart. John had a hold of David as David fired again, missing completely.

Brian’s face slackened, and a clarity came to him. He looked at peace, happy to be finishing this task, almost relishing taking another man’s life.

Kelsey breathed out as she pressed on the trigger.

A loud bang and the fabric on Brian's shoulder exploded as the bullet ripped through and tore into the skin. Brian’s body shook for a split second before he was thrown to the side with the force of the bullet. The knife flew up from his hand, drew a long upward arc through the air, and plunged into the ground five feet from George Peterson.

Kelsey stepped forward, keeping her gun on Brian, ready to take a second shot if he made a move. He lay on his side, eyes open, staring off blankly into the distance. Behind her, there were grunts and a struggle as John handcuffed David Cooper.

Kelsey looked again at George Peterson, his chest still rising and falling. He was still alive.

It was over.

Chapter Twenty Three

Kelsey and John drove behind the parade of patrol cars and vans. They were on their way to Fargo, and they needed to get Brian Foster behind bars in a cell rather than handcuffed in a small-town police station. Brian Foster was in the police van in front of them, and Kelsey kept her eyes on it as John drove.

Behind them, in a patrol car, was David Cooper. That was the second reason for their trip to Fargo. They had been focused on the case, but now that they had caught the killer, Kelsey wanted to discover what would happen to Richard Mercer and David Cooper. Two NextTown men had come to the three small towns, and they had both left in handcuffs. Cameron Wells had called Rebecca Lawson back, and she drove in her own car, not as part of Kelsey and John's caravan.

Kelsey’s phone rang, and she answered it immediately.

"Special Agent Hawk."

"He’s awake," Officer Milton said.

"How’s he doing?" Kelsey asked.

"He has a sore head but is in good spirits," the officer said. "He doesn't seem to have suffered any memory loss, but we’ll give him some time before we take a formal statement."

"I’m glad," Kelsey said. "We made it just in time."

"We’re so glad you and Deputy Gallant came to town," Officer Milton said. "We couldn't have done this without you. George Peterson is alive because of you."

"Thank you," Kelsey said. She said goodbye to the officer and hung up.

"George Peterson is alive and well," Kelsey told him. "We have enough evidence against Brian Foster, but the testimony from Mr. Peterson will be the final nail in the coffin."

"Good," John said. "Brian Foster deserves to go to jail for the rest of his life."

George Peterson had been taken to a local hospital to be treated. Brian Foster was lucid enough when they arrested him for the decision to be made to transport him to Fargo to operate on his shoulder. The bullet had gone clean through. Kelsey and John didn't want to risk anything by taking him to a small-town hospital. They needed to watch over him before he was locked up. They were not worried about his attempting to escape, but they thought he might try to kill himself to avoid his fate.

Kelsey’s phone beeped, and she checked the message from Lucas Garcia, her FBI contact.

I know where your guy is.

***

John parked the truck at the hospital, and Kelsey jumped out straight away. The parking lot had been cleared for their arrival. She went straight to the van containing Brian Foster. The doors were opened, and Brian Foster was led out. He was handcuffed, his hands in front of him, and his cuffs were chained to the restraints on his ankles. One shoulder was bandaged and in a sling. Two uniformed officers helped him out of the van from the inside, and two more officers met them to lead Brian Foster into the hospital.

Brian looked at Kelsey. He had an immense sadness in his eyes. She knew it was not because of any regret he had at killing three people and trying to kill a fourth but because he had not completed his final sacrifice. He held Kelsey’s gaze, searching her eyes for some meaning in what she had done to him.

Kelsey only saw evil there. Quiet, understated, evil. He had emotion, but the wrong sort of emotion. He would never be let out of prison; if he ever was, Kelsey foresaw him killing again. He was a dangerous man and the worst kind of dangerous. He was methodical and not violent, even if he had stabbed three people in the heart. He killed with a quiet fury brought about by losing everything.

Kelsey understood his anger and motivation, but it shouldn’t have been enough. It was not enough for most other people, but it had been for Brian Foster.

Two men approached Kelsey and John, both of them wearing pants and a shirt, the taller of the two wearing a cowboy hat.

"I’m Sergeant Hernandez," the man in the hat said.

"Detective Connor," the second man intruded.

"Special Agent Hawk," Kelsey replied.

"We know who you are," the detective said. "Both of you. Darn good work out there. Darn good work."

"Thank you, Detective," Kelsey said.

"We want you to know that he is in good hands," Sergeant Ramirez said. "Those are our officers who met the van, and Detective Connor will personally oversee Brian Foster while he is at the hospital, along with our two officers, and they will escort him to our precinct when he is well enough for booking. We’ll inform you when that will happen so you can be here."

"Thank you," Kelsey said, shaking both men’s hands.

"We appreciate it," John said.

Kelsey watched them go inside to be there while Brian Foster was checked out. She would normally be there with them, but there was something else she needed to check in on.

***

Kelsey walked into the police station and was surprised but not totally shocked to see Cameron Wells there. He spoke to an officer and glanced at Kelsey and John with a slightly annoyed look. He spoke to the officer some more and then turned to face Kelsey and John with a more magnanimous look.

"Special Agent Hawk," he greeted. "Great work out there."

"Why did you send David Cooper to town?" John asked.

"Did he not inform you?" Cameron Wells asked. "He was there for the protection of Rebecca Lawson and Richard Mercer."

"No, he informed us of that, but why was he really there?" John asked. "What did you expect him to do?"

Cameron raised his eyebrows slightly. "I don't know what you mean, Deputy Gallant. I wanted my people protected, and he did that to the best of his ability."

"He almost derailed the entire thing," John said. "I made myself clear to him, and he took two shots at Brian Foster. If I had not been there, our killer would have been dead right now instead of facing trial, and George Peterson could have died, too. Was that what you wanted?"

"Deputy, I am insulted that you would think that of me."

"You don't come out of this looking very good," Kelsey told Cameron Wells. "I will make sure your people face consequences for what they have done. The towns you disturbed didn't deserve any of that."

"I completely agree," Cameron Wells said. "It saddens me that a man took matters into his own hands. If Richard Mercer had spoken to me first, we could have sorted all of this out, but he went rogue, and I assure you he will face the consequences for his actions. Yes, we have assigned a lawyer to him, but only to ensure justice runs its course. Mr. Mercer will go to jail for his part in this, and as a gesture of goodwill, anyone who was forced to sell their properties will have them gifted back. We are also pulling out of any NextTown deals with the three towns, but we are committed to aiding them in their recovery now that the serial killer has been caught. We will do everything we can to help."

"I’m sure you will," Kelsey said. "Though, the three of us know, no matter how you spin it, that you are partly responsible for all of this."

Cameron Wells placed his hand on his heart, and Kelsey couldn’t help but think of the three people who were stabbed in the heart.

"I hope you are not accusing me of anything, Special Agent," Camron said.

"Not on the record," Kelsey replied.

"And David Cooper?" John asked. "Richard Mercer deserves jail time for what he did, and David Cooper does, too. I wouldn’t want your money or lawyers to aid him in avoiding that. This is all off the record, too."

Cameron Wells smiled. "Off the record, I believe our just system is strong enough that no amount of money could influence something like this. We’ll all await justice taking its course, and the law will dictate who should face punishment and who shouldn’t."

"And you come out of it without suffering at all," Kelsey said. "You might not be building your smart towns where you originally wanted, but you will build them somewhere else, and helping the three towns will only bring you good press. You’re the only one who comes out of this with a win."

"Don't be modest, Special Agent Hawk," Cameron Wells said. "You come out of this with a definite win. I don't know what will happen to me, but I try to do my best in all things. Business is business."

"Is it?" John asked.

Cameron Wells patted John on the shoulder and walked away.

"David Cooper shouldn’t be released," John said.

"I still have some sway in the FBI, which means I have sway in the justice system," Kelsey said. "I’ll talk to some people and see where this is going. I don't know what his charge should be, but he needs to face some consequence for what he did."

"And Cameron Wells?" John asked.

Kelsey sighed. "He’s a different story. We know he’s behind at least some of this, but he won't be punished for it. Not yet. He has too much money and power."

"Then how do we bring someone like that down?" John asked.

"At the moment, we don’t," Kelsey said. "We have to find a way in first." Kelsey clenched her jaw and looked away. She didn't want to involve him, but she needed John by her side to do it.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "What’s wrong?"

"My contact at the FBI discovers where Philip Guppy is being hidden. I don't know what is waiting for me when I get there, but he’s in Fargo. I’m going after him this evening."

"And I’m coming with you," John said.

Chapter Twenty Four

Kelsey and John sat in John’s truck outside the apartment building, looking up at it.

"What now?" John asked.

"That’s the part I don't know yet," Kelsey admitted. "I always work better on the fly. I’m sure a plan will come to me at some point."

John laughed.

Kelsey slapped his arm.

"I’m not making fun of you," he claimed. "I know it’s true. You dive headfirst into situations like this and make it work. I have no doubt that you will get us in there, and we’ll walk out with your informant. I have no doubt there will be some danger in between, but what would one of your plans be without some danger."

"I’m glad you’re here," Kelsey said. "I hate putting you in danger, especially when this is my—"

"Don't say it," John interrupted. "Don't claim this is your problem and not mine. I love you, and I want to be with you. I know that won't be possible until we can put your past behind you. Finally."

"I know, but—"

"No buts," John said. "We’re doing this together, and we’ll do the next thing together, and we’ll live our lives together."

"John Gallant, that almost sounds like a proposal outside a dingy apartment building in the heart of Fargo hosting a possible informant against a crime syndicate. I never imagined my life would be so beautiful."

John burst into a loud laugh. "This is not a proposal," he said. "When I propose, you’ll know all about it."

"Is that a fact?" Kelsey asked.

"That’s a fact," John said, leaning in to kiss her. "I never thought I would marry again after my last marriage, but you make me want to."

"Good," Kelsey said. "Now, let’s concentrate on the present. You have me all confused with your talk of the future and a life together."

"Then you must be easy to confuse," John said with a smile. I still don't know how I tricked you into being with me. It must have been my confusion tactics. So, what are we looking at here?"

Kelsey smiled and looked out the window again and up at the apartment building.

"Drive us around it again," Kelsey said.

John did as asked, pulling away from the curb and circling the building, taking them past their previous spot and into another in case someone was watching and it looked suspicious.

"Twelve apartments with closed curtains," Kelsey said. "We don't know for sure that means anything, but they went to a lot of trouble to hide Philip in my apartment. If they have some sort of safe house set up here, they will have the curtains drawn to hide what’s inside. Philip is likely in one of the apartments, so that’s where we look."

"We go door to door?" John asked.

"Not yet," Kelsey said. "I don't want to tip them off. We don't know for sure if he will be in one of the twelve, but we have to assume he is. When we go into the apartment, I want to head straight for where he is. I want to be sure, and that means we wait for now."

"For what?" John asked.

"For someone," Kelsey said. "Philip won't leave the apartment, but whoever is in there with him will have to at some point. We sit here and wait for one of them to leave or return."

"How do we know who they are?" John asked.

"We’ll know when we see them," Kelsey said.

As the night drew on, Kelsey and John waited in the truck. Some people came and went, passing them in the street, a couple of people going in and one person coming out of the building, but none of them looked like hired muscle.

They both grew restless in the vehicle, but they didn't get out to stretch their legs or try to sleep. Neither of them would be able to sleep.

Close to midnight, Kelsey said, "If we don't see anyone tonight or in the early morning, we go door to door in the afternoon. I don't want to leave it too long. I have the same feeling as I had when going after Brian Foster. Something inside keeps telling me that they will move him somewhere else if we don't get to Philip soon.

John nudged Kelsey around one am. Kelsey didn't move in the passenger seat, looking in the mirror as the figure approached the apartment building. Something about the way he walked set him apart from the others. Kelsey couldn't pinpoint it, but he looked like he was in trouble. As he opened the door to the building, his jacket moved as if poked from the inside.

"He’s carrying a gun," John said.

"It’s who we’re looking for," Kelsey replied. "I suspected they would be armed; now, we know for sure. Wait here."

"No, I’m coming with you," John said.

"I’m not going up. I only want to see what floor he goes to."

Kelsey exited the vehicle, ran to the front door, looked in, entered, and stood just inside, looking at the digital display above the elevator. After a minute, she ran back to the truck.

"He went to the fifth floor," Kelsey said. "There’s only one apartment on that floor with the curtains drawn. It has to be that one."

"We go in hard," John said.

"We do, but not until the morning," Kelsey said. "If we go up now, they’ll think someone followed the guy home. And it’s far too late to be anything other than trouble. If we knock on the door, they won’t let us in; they’ll be ready for a fight. We come back in the morning."

***

John and Kelsey took the stairs to the fifth floor. John pushed open the door at the top, and Kelsey slid through first, like a two-person SWAT team. Kelsey looked down the hallway, counting the rooms. She looked at the number on the door closest to them.

"It’s apartment 506," she told John.

John nodded. He moved ahead toward the apartment. Kelsey drew her gun, holding back a little. They didn't only have one shot at this if it were the wrong apartment, but Kelsey wanted them to be right and get out of there as quickly as possible. They would be dealing with two people in the apartment, possibly more, but she didn't know if others were close.

John reached the door, and Kelsey stood with her back to the wall at the side of the door, out of view from the peephole.

John did not hesitate to knock firmly on the door. Although there was no answer from inside, he would have seen the light change inside when someone looked through the peephole.

John half looked away as if distracted and knocked again.

"Building manager!" he shouted. "We’ve had noise complaints from this apartment."

"There’s no noise here," a gruff voice said from inside. "Beat it!"

"Sir, please open the door!" John called.

"I said, beat it!" The voice was more gruff and angrier this time.

"Sir!" John called, knocking constantly. "If you would—"

It worked. The door flew open, and perhaps the man inside would have swung for John or shouted at him more, but he didn't have time to do either. As soon as he was face-to-face with the man, John took stock of him and made his decision. He brought his elbow up into the man’s nose with a cracking sound and then swung his fist.

Kelsey moved quickly, stepping over the large man as he fell to the ground. If anyone else was in the apartment, they would have heard the noise, and they would have been on their way.

He came from the room to Kelsey's left, holding a gun pointed at the ground. The man was larger than the one Kelsey had stepped over. She grabbed him, using his momentum against him, grabbing his arms and throwing him face-first into the wall. She swung the gun at the back of his head, slamming it into his skull and knocking him out.

John passed behind Kelsey and into the living room. He stopped dead when he heard the click behind him. Kelsey spun to see a third man with his gun pointed at the back of John's head.

She knew these were the type of people to shoot first and ask questions later. She threw herself forward, surprising him, her shoulder slamming into his side. He got a shot off, the wood on the opposite wall splintering. Kelsey grabbed his arm to stop him from pointing and shooting the gun.

John rose from his ducked position after hearing the gunshot and lunged for the man and Kelsey. He placed one hand on the man’s chest to hold him down and slammed his fist into the man's nose, knocking him out.

Kelsey was on her feet in an instant. She swung around and pointed her gun. She went back the way they had come, looking through the still-open door into the hallway; the gunshot would have been heard. She pointed the gun into the room the man had come from to find it empty. John had his gun drawn and moved toward the kitchen.

Kelsey came to a closed door and didn't hesitate. Three men were down, and it was unlikely there was another. She pulled open the door, moving to the side in case a shot came, and pointed her gun into the room.

She trained it on the man cowering in the corner. She didn't stop yet, moving sideways into the room to check the blind corner. No one else was there.

"We have to go," she said. "Come on, now."

Philip Guppy rose from the corner of the room, his face pale. Kelsey went to him and took him by the arm, dragging him out of the apartment. John was by her side, his body pressed to hers as they moved, protecting her. Someone opened the door to their apartment and looked out as they passed.

They took Philip Guppy downstairs and into John’s truck. John started the engine, and they took off.

Kelsey turned to Philip Guppy in the back seat only when Fargo was in the rearview mirror.

"You’re going to help us take them down," she said.

Epilogue

Three Days Later

"Hey, will you come and sit with me?" Kelsey asked her sister, Erica.

Erica brought her cup of herbal tea from the breakfast bar and joined Kelsey on the couch. She placed the cup down and shifted a little before she was comfortable.

"What’s up?" Erica asked.

"I needed to talk to you about something important," Kelsey said. "First of all, you have no idea what it means to me to have you back in my life. Having you again has been the most wonderful thing I could have ever imagined."

"Well, that’s where you are dead wrong, sister," Erica said. "I know exactly how it feels to have your sister back in your life. I thought you were dead for twenty years until you saved me. I will always remember the moment I saw your face. I was still in a daze from everything, but I knew I had been saved when I looked into your eyes. I can't believe we are together again."

Kelsey smiled and took her sister’s hand. "I want to leave the past behind," she said. "I want to leave it far behind us."

"But we can’t, can we?" Erica asked.

"What do you mean?" Kelsey had not heard her sister talk like that before. Her sister didn't talk much about what had happened to her.

"I mean, they are still out there, aren’t they?" Erica explained. "They already came for me once when you were not here."

Kelsey still didn't know if that was true or if Erica had imagined it, but the people who took her were still out there, and they would soon find out where Philip Guppy had gone.

"Yeah, they are still out there," Kelsey said.

"And we can't ever live our lives while they are out there," Erica said. She shivered. "They might come back for me."

"I won't let them take you again," Kelsey said. "I won't ever let that happen."

"You can't stop them." Erica's eyes were wide. She knew exactly what they were capable of.

"We might be able to," Kelsey admitted. "That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I can't fight them, but I found someone who might be able to help us take them down. He wants to help us, and he’s with the FBI right now. If he can tell us enough about their operation, we can shut it all down. Once one domino falls, they all will."

"Then why are you so scared?"

Erica looked down at her hand, and Kelsey realized she had been holding it too tight.

"I’m worried they will come after me or you because I’m the one who found and took the man who is helping us. I can't put you in any more danger. I need to protect you, Erica, and if that means leaving the country, we can do that. We can move to Europe and start a life over there."

"What about John?" Erica asked.

"He’ll understand," Kelsey said. "He could come with us."

What? And leave his daughter behind?

"They might still find us," Erica pointed out. "I want to be here when it happens. I want to see the whole thing come crashing down and know I’m safe—properly safe. I want to stay here with you and John. You gave me my life back, and you should get to live your life, too, Kelsey. We’re not running away."

"You don't want an easy life, just the two of us, somewhere away from the horrors that have been following us for twenty years?" Kelsey asked.

"I want a life with you, Kelsey, but they shouldn’t dictate where that life is. I’m ready to fight if you are."

Kelsey took her sister’s hand. "I’ve been ready to fight for the past two decades. Let’s show them that they messed with the wrong family."

NOW AVAILABLE!

DEAD QUIET

(A Kelsey Hawk FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Twelve)

“This is an excellent book… When you start reading, be sure you don’t have to wake up early!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

As the sun blazes over North Dakota, FBI Agent Kelsey Hawk uncovers corpses bizarrely mummified in abandoned grain silos—a murderous nod to ritual. Plunging into the heart of apocalyptic prophecies, Kelsey races against time to halt the next unholy sacrifice.

“This book moved very fast and every page was exciting. Plenty of dialogue, you absolutely love the characters, and you were rooting for the good guy throughout the whole story… I look forward to reading the next in the series.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

DEAD QUIET is book #12 in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, whose bestseller NOT ME (a free download) has received over 1,500 five star ratings and reviews.

When she was just a child, Kelsey’s entire family was murdered, leaving her, the sole survivor, to grow up in the foster system. A rising star in the FBI, Kelsey set her ambitions on being assigned to a field office in the big city, away from the ghosts of her past. But when she’s reassigned to a small town in North Dakota, she can’t help but remember all the tragedy she fought so hard to leave behind.

Can she stop this killer in time?

A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured FBI agent, the KELSEY HAWK series is a riveting mystery, packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Fans of Rachel Caine, Teresa Driscoll, and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.

Future books in the series are now available!

“Kate did an amazing job on this book and I was hooked from the first chapter!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“I really enjoyed this book. The characters were authentic, and I see the bad guys as something we hear about daily on the news... Looking forward to book 2.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“This was a really good book. The main characters were real, flawed and human. The story went along quickly and wasn't mired in too many unnecessary details. I really enjoyed it.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Alexa Chase is headstrong, impatient, but most of all brave with a capital B. She never, repeat never, backs down until the bad guys are put where they belong. Clearly five stars!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done.”

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“WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well.”

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“Page turner for sure. Great characters and relationships. I got into the middle of this story and couldn’t put it down. Looking forward to more from Kate Bold.”

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“Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book.”

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“Extremely well written, and well worth buying and reading. I can't wait to read book two!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

DEAD QUIET

(A Kelsey Hawk FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Twelve)

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eleven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting);  the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the KELSEY HAWK SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising nine books (and counting); the NORA PRICE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising ten books (and counting); OF the BARREN PINES PSYCHOLIGICAL SUSPENSE series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); and of the MAGGIE FLIGHT SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting).

THE KILLING GAME (an Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book #1), LET ME GO (an Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book #1), and NOT ME (a Camille Grace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book #1) are available as free downloads on Amazon!

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

BOOKS BY KATE BOLD

MAGGIE FLIGHT SUSPENSE THRILLER

FINAL KILL (Book #1)

FINAL CHANCE (Book #2)

FINAL MISTAKE (Book #3)

FINAL LIE (Book #4)

FINAL BREATH (Book #5)

FINAL WHISPER (Book #6)

FINAL HOUR (Book #7)

ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER

FIND ME (Book #1)

FIND HER (Book #2)

FIND HELP (Book #3)

FIND HOME (Book #4)

FIND HIM (Book #5)

FIND YOU (Book #6)

FIND HOPE (Book #7)

BARREN PINES

THE UNSEEN NEIGHBOR (Book #1)

THE UNSEEN WIFE (Book #2)

THE UNSEEN KILLER (Book #3)

THE UNSEEN WOMAN (Book #4)

THE UNSEEN PAST (Book #5)

NINA VEIL SUSPENSE THRILLER

AWAY FROM HERE (Book #1)

AWAY FROM HIM (Book #2)

AWAY FROM HOPE (Book #3)

AWAY FROM HOME (Book #4)

AWAY FROM HUMANITY (Book #5)

KELSEY HAWK MYSTERY

FIND ME (Book #1)

FIND HER (Book #2)

FIND HELP (Book #3)

FIND HOME (Book #4)

FIND HIM (Book #5)

FIND YOU (Book #6)

FIND HOPE (Book #7)

FIND NO ONE (Book #8)

FIND OUT (Book #9)

FIND DEATH (Book #10)

DEAD COLD (Book #11)

DEAD QUIET (Book #12)

ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)

THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)

THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)

THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)

THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)

THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)

ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER

LET ME GO (Book #1)

LET ME OUT (Book #2)

LET ME LIVE (Book #3)

LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)

LET ME FORGET (Book #5)

LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)

CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT ME (Book #1)

NOT NOW (Book #2)

NOT WELL (Book #3)

NOT HER (Book #4)

NOT NORMAL (Book #5)

NOT AGAIN (Book #6)

NOT SAFE (Book #7)

NOT TODAY (Book #8)

HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)

NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)

NOWHERE LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOWHERE GIRL (Book #5)

NOWHERE TO HIDE (Book #6)

NOWHERE CERTAIN (Book #7)

NOWHERE PURE (Book #8)

NOWHERE SOUND (Book #9)

NOWHERE SANE (Book #10)

NOWHERE TRUE (Book #11)

KAYLIE BROOKS PYSCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

LAST BREATH (Book #1)

LAST CHANCE (Book #2)

LAST WISH (Book #3)

LAST SHOT (Book #4)

LAST MISTAKE (Book #5)

EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IN HIS BLOOD (Book #1)

IN HIS SIGHTS (Book #2)

IN HIS REACH (Book #3)

IN HIS MIND (Book #4)

IN HIS WAY (Book #5)

IN HIS THOUGHTS (Book #6)

IN HIS DREAMS (Book #7)

DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

OUT OF REACH (Book #1)

OUT OF TOUCH (Book #2)

OUT OF TIME (Book #3)

OUT OF BOUNDS (Book #4)

OUT OF LUCK (Book #5)

LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SOMETHING KNOCKING (Book #1)

SOMETHING CALLING (Book #2)

SOMETHING WRONG (Book 3)

SOMETHING DARK (Book #4)

SOMETHING TO HIDE (Book #5)