D E A D

E N D

(A Kelsey Hawk Mystery—Book 6)

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); and the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five 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 © 2024 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

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

The plains of North Dakota had never looked more beautiful. The snow was gone, giving birth to lush greens and golden yellows. The sky was azure, lacking streaks of pale white clouds.

Tessa Jameson might have had time to appreciate the majesty and grandeur if she had not been running for her life.

She stopped and gasped for breath, spit flying from her mouth as she exhaled sharply, her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. She almost collapsed to the ground but managed to catch herself and grab her thighs to stop from falling over. Her chest heaved, and the tears came with loud, trebling gasps.

Tessa cried and cried as she stared at the ground. She knew she should look up, look around, get the lay of the land again, and discover how close he was. Instead, she could only focus on the tiny ant walking proudly up the blade of grass below. It was free, living its life as nature intended, but as Tessa stood above it, she knew she could end its life in a heartbeat.

She wanted to be the ant: the free version, not the one with an impending death.

Tessa took in a large breath, her breathing not even steady yet but calm enough for her to move without the constant pain in her chest. She took one look around and ran.

There was no sign of him, but that didn't mean he wasn’t there. He was always there. She had been running for so long that it felt as if he had been chasing her from the moment she was born. The wind whipped against her face, trying to slow her down and deliver her into his arms.

There was no fear—there was no time for the emotions that would beat her down and tell her it was futile. As soon as she acknowledged how terrified she was, her body was shut down, and she would be as good as dead. So, Tessa told herself there was nothing to worry about and ran quicker than she had ever run before he caught up with her and snuffed her out.

Up a small rise and down the other side. Her legs burned as violently as her lungs. Along with ignoring her fear, she did not acknowledge her waning energy, the lactic acid biting at her muscles from within. She was not a runner but had gone for the occasional run. She would soon lose the use of her legs, and they would turn to jelly.

I just have to get as far away from him as possible before that happens.

She might have lost him already, or maybe she would stumble using a small croft hidden in the North Dakotan plains. There would be someone, anyone. It gave her hope, but the kind of hope she knew was false.

Wishful thinking. It was not an impossible hope, just a very unlikely one. She did not know the plains, but she had a sense of them from running for what felt like days, and there was no one out there. The longer she ran, the farther she got from anyone and the closer she got to death.

Foot after foot, pounding on the semi-firm dirt; grass, hay, bare earth, and rocky outcrops. On and on and on and on and on. Until it was impossible to go any farther. Until her legs morphed from muscular pistons to large columns of jelly.

Her body crumpled, and her cheek hit the dirt, stirring up enough to get into her eyes and lungs. She coughed and was blinded. A stabbing pain cut through her chest, and she thought he had found her. Tessa brought her hand up to her breast, but there was no knife sticking from it. The dust was in her lungs, tiny particles cutting at her. She hacked and coughed again, but only sobs came out: long, wailing sobs.

Get yourself together!

Tessa pushed herself up into a sitting position, her breathing short and quick. It wasn’t a panic attack, just the inability of her body to convert oxygen fast enough. Her heart beat furiously, trying to help, but it was not enough. Nothing was enough anymore.

She pulled up the hem of her t-shirt and wiped her eyes, the tears helping to wash out the dusty dirt. She coughed again, spluttering and falling forward. When she was able to look up, a buffalo stood atop the small hill she had come over. It stared straight at her, not moving. Tessa managed to stand, but her legs shook, and her balance was ruined. She stared back at the buffalo, the majestic beast. It bent its head to eat some grass, and then it turned and walked down the hill and out of view.

The hairs on the back of Tessa’s neck prickled, and she turned around.

Her heart stopped.

Only for a second, and then it beat furiously again, her dwindling adrenaline giving her one last jolt.

He stood thirty yards away, staring at her with menace. He held a flower in his hand, cradling it delicately—a wild prairie rose. It was an offering: take this and give me your life in return.

Tessa let out one final exasperated sob. She stumbled away from him, falling into her hand at one point, using her last ounce of energy to push herself back up. She could not hear him behind her, but she could feel him.

Just keep going! Keep going, and everything will be fine.

The cold feeling in Tessa’s chest called out the lie for what it was.

CHAPTER ONE

Kelsey Hawk sat at the bedside of her sister, Erica. Erica had suffered some physical injuries, but they were not severe. The emotional and mental injuries were substantial and had been inflicted over decades. Kelsey was done crying, but that didn't mean there was not immense sorrow within. She could handle chasing killers and taking them on one-on-one, but helping her sister was entirely different.

"Mmm," Erica moaned as she slept.

Kelsey jolted to her side and took her hand. "You are fine. I’m here with you, and nothing else will ever come between us," she whispered.

The first part was not true: Erica was not fine. She had lived for twenty years as Sophia, having been abducted from their family home when she was nine and brainwashed into thinking she was someone else, fed pills to keep her docile, and married to the man she had been sold to.

Kelsey had thought her sister dead until recently. Kelsey believed she was the only one who had survived the home invasion that had killed her parents. She had not known until the past few months that her parents had been murdered for revenge and her little sister abducted by a trafficking ring.

She had grieved for her family for years, and now she had to come to terms with her sister being alive and well. It was joyful and painful, all wrapped up in one neat little package tied with a bow.

A slight knock came at the door. Kelsey looked over to see Deputy Sheriff John Gallant. He was one of the reasons Kelsey had her sister back. Kelsey had found her sister, liberated her from her kidnapper, and fought against him. If John had not arrived to dole out the finishing blow, she and her sister might be dead.

Kelsey smiled at John. "Come on in." She removed her hand from her sister’s and sat back down on the chair by the bed.

John grabbed one of the chairs by the wall and placed it beside Kelsey, sitting down.

"How is she doing?" John asked, keeping her voice low to avoid disturbing the sleeping woman.

"Better, I think," Kelsey said sadly. "I don't really know. The physical injuries will go in time, but the other stuff?" Kelsey rubbed at her forehead with her fingers and thumb. "It’s like a stream of specialists coming in every day. Psychologists, therapists, doctors, psychiatrists, nurses, and a dozen other professionals. They do their tests, and there are no results. I don't really know what that means. Is it possible there is no cure for what she has?"

"I don't know," John replied.

"Well, that doesn’t help, does it?" Kelsey snapped. "It’s not like she’s depressed or bipolar or something. There are all these mental and emotional issues, but they’ve been tested and looked at and treated, and we know what works for certain things, but what about Erica? Sometimes, she still thinks she is Sophia and doesn’t recognize me! How are they supposed to treat what she has been through? I mean, who has their family killed and is abducted and brainwashed until they are eighteen so they can be sold off to the highest bidder and then kept in a loveless marriage with pills and whatever else they did to her? Who else has been through that? What results can they look to and be like, yeah, let’s give her these pills and this counseling? What the heck are we doing here, John?"

Kelsey collapsed forward, placing her head between her knees. She was used to taking on a case and following the evidence until it led to a conclusion. With her sister, there was no evidence of what her condition was and no destination.

John placed his hand on Kelsey’s back and rubbed it softly.

Kelsey sighed before sitting back up. "I’m sorry for snapping at you. You don't deserve that, and I know you are trying to help."

"Don't worry about it," John said. "You can lash out at me as much as you want. Heck, if I were in your position, I would be lashing out a lot more. I don't know how you can remain so strong."

"You should see how I am inside. My default is for nothing to bother or shake me, and I’ve come so good at it over the years that I can put on that front even when I feel the complete opposite."

"Whatever you need," John reminded. "If you want to have company while you pretend everything is fine or you want to break down in my presence, I’m here for that."

"I know you are." Kelsey took a deep breath—she appreciated him, but even he couldn’t help with what she was going through. She was not sure anyone could.

Kelsey lay her head on John’s shoulder. He couldn’t help completely, but his presence was a welcome distraction.

"How are you doing?" Kelsey asked.

"All sunshine and roses compared to what you have going on," he replied.

"It doesn’t diminish anything you are going through. I need the distraction."

"Actually, things are going better than I expected," John said. "It’s weird to think that I will soon be a divorced man, but it doesn’t feel as sad as I thought it would. It felt like a failure for a while, but it’s for the best, and Samantha and I are both focused on Kimberly."

"Is she doing okay with all of it?" Kelsey asked.

"Maybe," John replied. "She seems to be fine, but I know there’s more going on inside. I need to give her the time and space to explore and deal with all of this without any additional pressure. We want to make it as easy as possible for her, and I think we’re doing pretty well at that." John chuckled. "It’s funny, we worked great together until we didn’t, but I think we work far better as a separated couple than we ever did when we were together."

"Kimberly is lucky to have you both as parents. She’s still young, and the next year will be hard. She’ll get through it with your help."

The two of them fell silent, Kelsey enjoying being close to John. He had a smell she had become used to but couldn’t quite describe. She could smell his cologne, but there was something below that was quintessentially John.

Erica stirred, and Kelsey jolted upright again.

Erica murmured something as her eyes flitted open and closed.

Kelsey leaned forward and took her sister’s hand. "I’m here. I’m here," she soothed.

Erica opened her eyes for a second before closing them for a prolonged period. She opened them again and blinked. She looked blankly at Kelsey.

"I’m here," Kelsey said. "I’m here. Everything is fine, Erica."

"Erica?" Erica asked. "Who are you? I’m Sophia." Erica became agitated as she spoke and pulled her hand from Kelsey. "What have you done to me? Why do you have me here?"

"Everything is fine," Kelsey said, remaining calm. "You were Sophia for a while, but you are Erica again. I’m your sister."

Erica regarded Kelsey warily, her eyes swimming as she tried to stay awake. She was afraid, and Kelsey couldn’t blame her. She had been through a lot, and each time Erica woke, she feared being abducted. Kelsey backed off a little to give her sister some room. Erica looked around the room for the first time, taking in her surroundings and John.

"No, no, no," Erica begged. "No, please. I can't go back there. I can't go back!"

Erica tried to get out of bed, but she was still weak. Kelsey didn't want to upset her sister, but she stopped her from getting out of bed after the fall Erica had taken a few days ago. The small amount of restraint made things worse, and Erica flailed more in the bed.

"It’s fine, it’s fine," Kelsey soothed. "You’re safe, Erica, remember? I’m your sister, and you don't have to be scared anymore."

"My name is Sophia!" Erica screamed.

Erica became enraged, tossed, and turned in the bed as if chained to it. Kelsey tried to put a hand on her arm, but that caused Erica to flail her limbs, and Kelsey had to jump back to avoid being hit in the head by a stray arm.

"Get out!" Erica screamed like a banshee. "I want to go home! Where is my husband!"

John ran to the door to hail a nurse. Kelsey remained by the bed as Erica became more and more agitated. Erica let out a pricing shriek that felt like it lasted forever.

"No!" Erica screamed, clawing at her hair. "No! No! No! Noooo!"

Kelsey put her fist to her mouth and bit down on a finger. She wanted to scream, too—her sister needed help, but Kelsey could do nothing to help her.

Erica kicked off the blankets, moaning in pain. She was beaten and broken but fighting. The fighting part was a family trait. Kelsey had never backed down from a fight, and she never would. She tried to think of something soothing to say and how to approach her sister, but nothing could be done now. It was not the first time it had happened, and Kelsey suspected it was far from the last.

Three nurses burst into the room, and Erica stopped moaning, but she didn't calm down. Erica was still agitated and pushed herself up the bed, trying to get away from the nurses exploding into the room. One of them had a syringe, and Kelsey found the scene frightening, so it was no wonder Erica acted the way she did.

Kelsey might have tried to step in and calm her sister, but she had partly been the source of her hysteria.

"Don't let them take me!" Erica shouted. "Don't let them take me again!"

The nurse with the needle moved closer, and Erica tried to kick her. The other two nurses had to hold Erica down. Kelsey felt physically sick to see her sister restrained as the needle was stuck in her arm.

Erica screamed out again and started to wail, filling the room with misery.

John grabbed Kelsey and turned her way so she would not have to watch the scene.

"Come on, let’s get out of here," John said.

"I can't leave her side," Kelsey cried.

"You need to clear your head. This is not the best place for you right now." John took her shoulder to guide her from the room.

Kelsey didn't want to go but let herself be shepherded out by John. She grabbed onto him when they were out of the room, needing to be grounded. It was still unbelievable that she had her sister back, but she didn't have all of her back yet, and that would take time.

Whatever it takes, and however long it takes.

"You’re helping her, and she will see that in time. It’s been twenty years, so it will take a while," John said.

"I know." Kelsey collapsed into John’s arms. "I know, I know, I know."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it. There was no possible emergency that could top the emergency happening right now. She gripped John, but he ended the embrace when his phone rang.

"The Sheriff," he said, glancing at the screen.

Kelsey might be on leave, but John still had a job to do. Kelsey nodded.

"Sheriff Anderson," John said. "What? Yeah, she’s actually right here."

John passed Kelsey the phone. She realized that Sheriff Anderson had tried to call her first. She took the phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Sheriff," Kelsey said.

"How are you doing, Hawk?" Sheriff Anderson asked.

It was always nice to hear from the Sheriff. Since coming to town what seemed like an eternity ago, Sheriff Anderson had become a father figure for Kelsey.

"To be honest, I’m not doing great," Kelsey replied. She didn't want to go into it over the phone; maybe another time when she was face to face with him.

"I know this is a hard time for you, but I need you to come in," Sheriff Anderson said.

"I’m on leave," Kelsey reminded him.

"I know, and I would dream of calling you if it were not urgent. I need you for a case."

"What case? Listen, I want to help, I really do, but I can't leave my sister right now. Any other time, and you know I would be there," Kelsey said.

"I know," the Sheriff replied. "I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important."

There was something in the tone of his voice: anger, maybe fear. Kelsey didn't like it, but she remained silent.

"Please," Sheriff Anderson said. "I need you to come in, Hawk." There was a slight pause. "Do it as a favor to me."

"I can’t," Kelsey stated. "I need to be here. As soon as I know my sister is—"

"Please," the Sheriff repeated, pleading. "I just… I need to know you are fine, Hawk. I need to look you in the eye." The Sheriff’s voice broke on the last word.

Kelsey felt her entire being torn in two. She had to stay with her sister, but something was not right with the Sheriff. Something tore him apart.

"Okay." Kelsey knew he would not request her presence if it were not important. She looked into the room where her sister had now been sedated. She wouldn’t wake for a few hours, and hopefully, that was all the time it would take.

"Thank you," Sheriff Anderson replied.

Kelsey hung up and looked at John. He would go with her, and they would face this thing together. The Sheriff was in trouble, and Kelsey would be there for him.

CHAPTER TWO

Kelsey walked into the office and strode straight for Sheriff Anderson’s office. His door was open, and his chair faced the open doorway so he could see out into the office—a purposeful placement that made him approachable.

Something was wrong in the office. It felt to Kelsey like walking into an old saloon in the Wild West. The chatter and hum of the Sheriff’s Office halted, and everyone stared at her. Not directly, but the type of staring where they took her in from the corner of their eyes, stopped talking so they could hear what happened next, and tilted their heads so their ears were directed toward the action.

She walked into the Sheriff’s office, and there was an obvious look in Sheriff Anderson’s eyes. He was not afraid or angry but guilty. He pleaded with his eyes for Kelsey to forgive him. He broke the held gaze and tilted his head slightly toward Kelsey.

"Special Agent Kelsey Hawk, you are under arrest." A suited man stepped in behind her, taking her arm. He had been hiding just inside the room, out of view. A second agent appeared from outside the room, taking her other arm. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can be used as evidence against you in court. You have—"

The handcuffs slapped on her wrists were the last straw. "I know my rights, so how about you shut up!"

Kelsey knew it was the wrong thing to say, but it was better than what she had thought about doing. She wanted to struggle, to fight back against the two men and run from the room, but it would be futile. It was two against one, and if Sheriff Anderson had called her in, it was more than that. She knew the best thing to do when arrested was to remain silent, but she was furious. She had come from her sister being sedated, and the only thing she could think about was not seeing her again.

"You have the right to a lawyer," the agent continued, unperturbed by the outburst. "If you can’t afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you. If you decide to answer any of our questions right now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time."

"What the heck is going on!" John shouted.

The two agents had spun Kelsey around, and John blocked their way out. A part of Kelsey wanted John to fight, but the other part wanted him to stay out of this so he could help her later. There was no point in both of them being arrested.

"Hawk, I had to," Sheriff Anderson said from behind her.

Kelsey suspected that was true, but she still felt let down by the Sheriff.

"If I hadn’t gotten you here, they would have been trying to take my badge. John’s badge, too. They told me if I warned you they were here, you would try to run, and if you did, it would be worse for everyone. I don't agree with any of this, Hawk."

John still blocked their way out, and the two agents waited patiently for him to move, giving him some time before they took matters into their own hands.

"Don't worry, I know who is behind this," Kelsey said. "Who ordered the arrest? The Deputy Director?"

"You don't need to worry about that," the agent on her left said.

"Ah, so you can speak," Kelsey replied. "This is Special Agent in Charge Granger’s doing. He would have had to have the Deputy Director put out the call for my address, but he’s the one behind this."

Kelsey and SAC Paul Granger had never gotten along. She had worked for him fresh out of the academy, and while she had ascended through the ranks and proven herself as one of the best agents in the FBI, SAC Granger didn't agree with her methods. He had threatened to arrest her before she got someone hurt or killed, and he had finally followed through on it.

"So, where are you taking me?" Kelsey asked. "Quantico?"

"Yes," the agent on her right said.

"And what are the charges? You read me my rights, but you didn't tell me what I am being arrested for," Kelsey noted.

"That will be discussed back when we are in Quantico," the agent on her right said.

"Good," Kelsey said. "You’ve said that in front of at least two reputable witnesses, so I am very much looking forward to my conversation with the Deputy Director."

"It won’t go that far," John said. "You are not taking her from here, so take the handcuffs off and go back to wherever you came from. She’s done nothing wrong."

"Sir, please step aside," one of the agents ordered.

"No," John replied, shaking his head and grimacing. He took his badge from his pocket. "You arrest her, and I hand in my badge." He looked at Sheriff Anderson as he said it.

"Do what you need to do," an agent said.

"John, don't do anything stupid," Kelsey said, though she did enjoy how far he was willing to go to protect her.

"John, my hands are tied," Sheriff Anderson said. "Put your badge back in your pocket, and don't be such a darn fool."

"He’s right," Kelsey said. "They are taking me in whether you quit or not, but I’ve been in tougher positions before. You don't need to worry about me. Go to the hospital and make sure Erica is okay. I’ll be back here before you know it once they realize the mistake they have made."

Kelsey put on a brave face because it was the only thing she could do. There was nothing that could be done to stop the two agents from taking her from the Sheriff’s Office. Even if she had the chance to run, she wouldn’t. Erica was far too important to her to do that. She had to do this properly so she could come back to Winchburgh and live her life.

"I’ll be there every second that I’m not needed here," John said.

"Good." Kelsey was relieved. His acquiescence meant her sister would have someone by her bed some of the time, and Sheriff Anderson would not lose a good man. Kelsey was still furious at the situation and being taken from Erica, but it was a quiet fury that she pushed down for now. Kelsey would let it bubble up when the time was right. Besides, the quicker they took her from the Sheriff’s office, the quicker she could deal with the charges and the quicker she could get home.

After a drawn-out staring contest with the two special agents, John stepped aside. He stared at them both as they walked past him. No one in the office was subtle now, and they all watched Kelsey being taken from the building.

"If you take me home, it will only take me two minutes to grab my bag. I have a one packed just in case." Kelsey didn't think she would need it for being arrested, but she was glad to have it anyway.

"No, that won’t be possible," one of the agents said. "We have orders to take you to Quantico immediately."

Kelsey didn't say anything. She wanted this over with as quickly as possible, and so did they. It was both good and bad.

A car door was opened, and an agent placed a hand on her head as he pushed her into the backseat. She righted herself and looked out of the window to see John standing at the door to the Sheriff’s Office. Kelsey looked away—if she looked at him any longer, she would burst into tears.

The car started, and it rolled off from the parking lot. Kelsey had only just begun to think of Winchburgh, North Dakota, as her home, and now, she might never return.

CHAPTER THREE

Kelsey sat alone in the interrogation room. She had spent a lot of time in Quantico, but hadn’t been back for a while. She’d sat across a desk from her superiors to be questioned many times but had never been in this position before. She was a prisoner, awaiting her fate.

I should have run.

She had thought it many times over the previous twenty-four hours and couldn’t run if she wanted to. It wasn’t that she never ran from a fight, but that it wasn’t logistically possible with her sister in a hospital bed. Erica had not yet begun her recovery, and Kelsey needed to be there every step of the way. If she ran, she couldn’t take Erica with her.

The door swung open, and Deputy Director Frank Harper entered. Kelsey was glad to see that SAC Paul Granger was not by her side. It gave Kelsey hope and annoyed her. Granger was the one who was pushing for this, and she needed to face him. Yet, if he were not here, it meant there were fewer people against her at one time.

"Deputy Director Harper," Kelsey said to greet the man as he entered.

The Deputy Director sighed through his nose. He closed the door behind him, taking his time to walk to the table and sit opposite Kelsey. Harper placed the file down before him and looked Kelsey in the eye.

Kelsey could see both sides; not of the current case, but of the table. She had often wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of the table in an interrogation, and while she imagined it would be intense and frightening, it was not all that bad. That was possibly due to not being cuffed to the table like many suspects were. They were not afraid of her attacking them or doing something else reckless. She was not dangerous, but only because they had not done anything yet that warranted a reaction.

"Kelsey, what do you plan to do next?" Harper asked.

The casualness of the question surprised her.

"Am I being let go?" she asked.

"Far from it," the Deputy Director replied. "You do understand how serious this is, don't you?"

"You mean Granger’s vendetta against me?"

"We both know it’s a lot bigger than that and where you see a vendetta, I see regular police work. You don't like Paul Granger, and he doesn't like you, and I don't care about that one bit. What I do care about is how this department conducts business. So, what do you intend to do next?"

They were worried she would dive into the corruption she had uncovered within the FBI, and Kelsey tried to figure out how she could use that as leverage to get out of her current predicament.

"I’m going to take care of my sister," Kelsey replied. "I’m on leave, and I don't care about anything else. I don't know if I will ever return to active duty. She needs my full attention. I am sure you can appreciate that after everything we have been through."

"I can," Harper said.

He looked older than the last time they met, grey hairs sprinkled through his thick hair and mustache. Kelsey knew she could be rash at times, and the Deputy Director was the opposite: Kelsey had never seen him rattled or anything other than calm and composed.

"When you gave your press conference, you made a very real threat against the FBI. Do you have any idea the can of worms you are opening here?"

"I didn't mean it as a threat," Kelsey lied. "If that was how it was taken, then I apologize."

It had been a threat at the time, but with the needs of her sister taking priority over everything, it was not a threat she meant to follow up on. She didn’t have the energy to go down that road and care for her sister at the same time.

It wasn’t that there was deep-rooted corruption currently in the FBI (as far as Kelsey knew); it was that things had been covered up in the past to protect the FBI’s reputation. Kelsey would have known about none of it if she had not discovered some of the coverups as part of the investigation into her parents’ deaths. SAC Granger, on the orders of his boss at the time, had been a part of the coverup.

"An apology is not going to cut it," Harper replied.

"Sir, all I want to do is return to Winchburgh and look after my sister. I’m done with everything. I’ve been looking into the death of my family for twenty years, and I thought I had lost them all. Now, I have a sister again, and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that. You have my word, and I will sign anything you want to prove it. Let me go back home, and I will never mention corruption in the FBI again."

"As I said, it is not as simple as that. SAC Granger is a good man, and he is not going to let this rest. It is not only about the corruption but your actions over the past few years."

"You mean the multiple arrests I gave made both in Valleyview and North Dakota?" Kelsey asked, her anger forcing her to talk back to her superior. "You mean the killers I have taken off the streets? Do you mean the countless people I have saved, including the Sheriff’s daughter? I have made the streets a safer place, and we both know it. SAC Granger knows it, too, but he never liked me. He’s a part of the corruption, and if you want to bench anyone, it should be him."

"This is what I am talking about," the Deputy Director said. "Slight provocation, and you go on the offensive."

Kelsey felt something she could not quite put her finger on. The Deputy Director was testing her, feeling her out. Perhaps it was why SAC Granger was not in the room with them.

"This is a stressful time," Kelsey told him. "You haven’t heard a word from me since the press conference. I watched my sister have a psychotic episode yesterday, and she had to be restrained and sedated. Then, I was called into the Sheriff’s Office and arrested. How am I supposed to feel? You provoke me expecting what? Thanks?" Kelsey placed her head in her hands and sighed. "All I want is the peace and quiet to live my life and be with Erica. After everything that has happened and all I have done, it is the least I can ask for."

Deputy Director Harper was quiet. He opened the folder, tilting it so only he could see what was inside, and flipped through the documents inside. He closed the folder again and looked at Kelsey.

"I want you to know three things, Special Agent Hawk," the Deputy Director said. "When we look at the arrests you have made and the criminals you have taken off the street, your record is exemplary. If that is all I was looking at, I would have you in here to thank you and give you some sort of commendation. Your record is one of the best in the entire department, and I know you have brought people in that no one else would have."

The Deputy Director shifted in his chair.

"Look under the hood, and it is a complete gong show," Harper stated. "I’ve only looked at a small amount of what SAC Granger has shown me, and there is no amount of convincing you can do to change the facts. You have put people in danger, and while you haven’t gotten anyone killed or seriously hurt, how long will it be until that happens? Can you look me in the eye right now and tell me you have not been willing to lose someone to bring in a criminal?"

Kelsey looked him in the eye. "I protect people, but my focus is on the greater good," Kelsey replied honestly. "I don't ever want to put people in danger, but when civilians are at risk, I will protect them. I’m willing to put my life on the line to make this world a better place."

"Yeah, yeah," Harper said, raising his hand. "Don't get all righteous on me. I get the whole greater good argument, but there are protocols and procedures in place for a reason. When we start to disregard them, we all lose out. You have one of the best records in the FBI, but not the absolute best. There are other special agents who can do what you do without bending the rules."

"You said there were three things," Kelsey commented.

Deputy Director Harper tapped the file on the desk. "I’m spearheading an investigation into the department. You have only seen the tip of the iceberg and have no idea why things are done a certain way. You live in a grey area but still see things in black and white. Hawk."

"You’re investigating the corruption? Does that mean you will take down Granger?" Kelsey asked.

Harper shook his head. "He’s not the man you think he is, and this is much more complicated and nuanced than you can imagine. You don’t see it, but he protects civilians as much as you do. You make tough decisions out on the street, and he makes them in his office." Harper raised his hand. "And before you try to compare the two, take a minute to think about it. I know you are out on the streets and putting yourself in the line of fire, but that doesn’t make you special. You will never know it, but SAC Ganger has protected far more people than you have."

Kelsey decided to shut her mouth. She had lots she wanted to argue, but this wasn’t about convincing the Deputy Director of anything.

"If you are investigating the corruption, you have nothing to worry about from me. I don't even care about it anymore, but I am glad to hear something is being done. I can go home and be with Erica, and you won’t ever hear from me again."

"How many times do I have to tell you that things are not that simple?" the Deputy Director asked.

"Corruption is a completely separate thing. You are here because you are reckless and endanger people, and SAC Granger has put together a dossier that is damning. If I even take one incident, you almost drove a witness off a cliff to get information. Did it get results? Yes. Could you have killed an innocent civilian? Yes. That’s where I am at, Hawk."

"What does this mean for me?" Kelsey asked tentatively.

"I won’t know until the investigation is complete, but SAC Granger has enough to have you incarcerated while the investigation wraps up. He wants you off the streets to protect people, and while I don't fully agree, the investigation must be completed."

"I don't want to return. There is no danger to anyone, and I will hand in my badge right now and never work another day in my life for the FBI," Kelsey claimed.

"It’s that simple, is it?" Harper asked.

Kelsey let out a breath through her nose. "It’s not that simple, is it?"

Harper flashed her a wry smile. "No, it’s not. SAC Granger is pushing for you to be formally charged today. Sheriff Anderson has some sway, it would seem, though not enough to stop that from happening. He mentions that you saved his daughter."

"I did," Kelsey replied. She had been angry at Sheriff Anderson for the way the arrest had happened, but she knew he was not to blame.

"If you were not needed in Winchburgh, I would side with SAC Granger," the Deputy Director said. "They have a body and have assured me they need you. I don't have any other agents ready to step in, and I believe they would reject any anyway."

"A body?" Kelsey snapped. "You drag me all the way out here for this farce, and there’s a dead body back home?" Kelsey tried to calm herself. She needed to be back there, but doing her job was what got her in trouble in the first place. "No, I’m done. I’m not going to work another case or put people in danger. I’ll do whatever it takes to help my sister and be with her," Kelsey replied.

"I’m not sure you are hearing what I am telling you, Hawk," Harper said. "So, let me spell it out: your choices are going to jail or going back to Winchburgh and catching a killer while we figure out where the end of the road is for you. The choice is yours."

CHAPTER FOUR

Kelsey exited the rental car she had hired at the airport and looked out onto the pastel-hued prairies. John quickly got out of his and joined her.

"Welcome back, Kelsey," John said.

"I don't think I had a choice," Kelsey replied. "How is Erica? I didn't have time to visit her."

John took a moment. "She’s doing okay." He nodded. "After the incident yesterday, she slept for a long time and was still a little confused after waking, but I don't think she remembered what happened. I don't know much other than she is really scared all of the time. I only went into the room once—I think I freak her out when I’m in there."

"Thanks for doing that for me," Kelsey said.

"It’s the least I can do after everything you have done for me and for our town. Heck, for the entire state. Is it true you are facing jail time?"

"Yeah, I guess," Kelsey said. "I don't know what comes next. I feel like a prisoner who has been loaned out to do manual labor, but instead of breaking up rocks or building a railroad or something like that, I’ve been let out of jail to help put others in jail."

"They can't put you in jail after everything you have done," John noted.

"They want to put me in jail because of everything I have done. Can we… can we not talk about it right now? I have enough going on with Erica and now this. I thought my life had become simpler, but it’s so much more complicated."

"Whatever you need. Before we go out there, is there anything I can do to help? You know I will fight tooth and nail to help you," John said.

"Yeah, I know, but there is nothing anyone can do. I can't plead my case or find any evidence. There are no eyewitnesses, nothing. Granger has all the evidence, and I don't think I can even refute it. All I can do now is wait. Well, not wait, but catch a killer."

John held Kelsey’s gaze for a moment before he gestured toward the furor or activity in the distance.

"Come on."

They had parked as close as they could to the crime scene, and it was only a three-hundred-yard hike across the mainly flat ground to reach the crime scene. Kelsey felt free after being cooped up in an interrogation room for twelve hours. It was beautiful in the prairies, and with the snow gone and the colder weather forgotten, it almost felt like she was taking a pleasant walk with her friend. Almost.

"Hikers found her," John noted. "She’s close to the range road, but hardly anyone comes down here, so we got lucky she was found as soon as she was. Woman in her early thirties by the looks of it. She was—"

"Not yet," Kelsey said as they arrived at the crime scene. "I want to see it fresh first and make my own conclusions."

Amongst the endless peace and quiet of the prairies was a small white tent and a few dozen feet of yellow police tape tied between some short trees and bushes—the tape fluttered in the wind. Four or five officers and forensic scientists in white coveralls moved quietly as if respecting the calm of the prairies.

John grabbed her arm before she could enter the tent and look at the dead body. He pulled her aside. "If you want to run, you could."

"What?"

"I don't know the first thing about what is going on, but I know you should not be punished for anything you have done. If you want to get out of here, I will cover for you," John said.

"I can't run," Kelsey stated. "I can't leave Erica."

"I know, but isn’t there something you can do? Leave her here for now until she is better, and then come back for her and take her somewhere else. I can check in with her and—"

"No, out of the question," Kelsey stated. "I’m not running from this. I can’t. I think highly of myself, John, but I’m not outrunning the FBI. Besides, I need to be with Erica. I couldn’t leave and hope for the best. I need her, and she needs me."

"I know, but—"

"I appreciate the thought. I really do, but I’m not leaving. You are stuck with me," Kelsey said.

John sighed. "I don't want to lose you to this. If they arrest you and put you in jail, it will be the most messed up thing. You said Erica needs you, but I think I need you too."

Kelsey felt her heart lift before it sank again. She didn't want someone else to need her. She was already being pulled in so many directions, and while John was in a direction she wanted to go in, she was not sure there was room.

"I’m sorry," John said. "This is not a burden you need right now. I’m your support, okay? Anything you need."

"Do you have a new life for me? One where I didn't decide to go into the FBI, and everything was much simpler?"

"If you hadn’t gone into the FBI, you wouldn’t have discovered the truth about your family or found Erica," John reminded her.

Kelsey quickly squeezed John’s arm. "I wouldn’t have met you either."

John flashed a quick smile. "Come on, let’s take a look at the body."

Kelsey was swimming in deep, shark-infested waters, but John was her lifeline, her one thing to grab onto to save herself. He was barely keeping her afloat—she was drowning, and it would only get worse before it got better. If it ever got better.

Kelsey and John went to the body. The young woman lay on the grass looking up to the sky. She had obviously been moved after death, positioned in a funeral pose with her hands clasped on her chest and a flower in her hands. Kelsey scanned the surrounding area. The killer could have parked where they parked and brought the body from there, but some instinct told her the woman was killed roughly where she lay and then posed.

It brought up two questions: was she brought to this place to be killed, or did she end up here by chance? And, as she chased to this place and killed?

Kelsey looked around, the prairie stretching out in every direction. She couldn’t quite say why, but her instincts told her the woman was chased.

Irrelevant to any pressing questions, how the woman was killed was startlingly obvious. The bruising and redness around the neck told Kelsey she had been strangled, and by the discoloration, it had happened fairly recently.

Nothing else looked out of place. The woman’s clothes were dirty in parts, but not overly. Kelsey’s mind pieced it together. The woman had been running and had fallen a few times. Her face was pale and dusty, too. Her clothes were not ripped, and it did not look like any additional clothing had been removed. There had been no real struggle as the killer had strangled her.

"What do you think?" John asked.

"The killer strangled her, suggesting it was a man, someone stronger. We’ll know more when forensics are done, but there is no clothing removed or ripped, so it’s nothing sexual. The flower reminds me of a funeral. It tells me that she was targeted. This is not a random killing or a random victim, but a killer who is targeting people for a specific reason, and that means they will kill again."

Kelsey turned around in a full circle, taking in the endless prairie. "I don't know how much of this we can search, but there must be an entry point. You can tell by her clothing that she fell numerous times. So, he chased her. Maybe that was the point of all of this, or it was coincidental. Still, she didn't come from where we parked—it’s too close. Get someone to look at maps of the area and find the next closest entry points, and maybe the road leads back to a CCTV camera or past the house of someone who might have seen something, even if it is only a vehicle."

"I just got this in," John said. "Her name is Tessa Jameson. She has a brother in Richford, which is not far from here. We need to notify him of his sister’s death, and maybe he has an idea of who might have done this."

Kelsey was still annoyed by being pretty much blackmailed into working this case to stay out of jail, but a killer was on the loose, and that trumped everything for the moment.

"Let’s go," she said.

CHAPTER FIVE

John’s black truck bumped up and down on the dirt range road before he turned off onto the paved secondary road, headed toward Craig Jameson’s house.

"Sheriff Anderson sent through everything they have," Kelsey said.

"Have you spoken to him yet?" John asked.

"No, not yet."

"Listen, I know he was the one who called you in, but he’s also the one who spent ten hours on the phone to everyone who owed him a favor to try and get you back home. I get why you might be angry at him, but you know he had no other choice, right?" John asked.

"Yeah, I know that, but it still feels like a betrayal," Kelsey replied.

"He’s the last person who would willingly betray you, Kelsey. He doesn’t show it, but this whole thing is affecting him worse than anyone else. You need to speak to him, and you should be thanking him for getting you back here."

"I’m back here because there is a case to work," Kelsey noted.

"How can you be so smart and stupid at the same time?" John shook his head as he drove. "Do you really think no one else could work this case? It was only because of Sheriff Anderson you were let out of Quantico—no one else could have done that for you. So, the next break we have, I’m telling you to talk to him and make this right. Okay?"

Kelsey knew John was right. It did feel like a betrayal, but it wasn’t Sheriff Anderson’s fault. He had always done the right thing, and even though it had hurt Kelsey, it had been the right thing to do as they told him and brought her in.

"What did he send?" John asked after Kelsey fell quiet.

"Not a whole lot," Kelsey replied. "Tessa Jamesons, thirty-one years old, has lived in Richford for a year and lived in Fargo before that. Her older brother looks to be her next of kin, parents deceased."

"It was a prairie rose," John said.

"What?"

"The flower she was holding. I’m not sure if that helps with anything, but it was a prairie rose," John said. "They come in all different colors, but mainly pale pastels, whites, and pinks. They are native to here, and they grow abundantly in the prairies. They look pretty and have thorns on the stems."

"I didn't see any on the stem," Kelsey remembered. "Maybe there were some in her hands, but some of the stem was visible below her hands. They could have been removed first, indicating that the killer didn't want to hurt the victim. That also begs the question of whether he had the idea to give her the flower before or after the killing. I didn't see any prairies roses on our walk to the body, but there must have been some around."

"So, he kills her, takes a rose, removes the thorns, and then places it in her hands. Why?" John asked.

"It could be a dozen reasons," Kelsey replied. "Maybe he wanted to commemorate the kill. He didn't want to commemorate her. He strangled her, a violent kill that shows he killed because he wanted her gone. The rose was in her hands, but strangulation tells me the rose is to celebrate the kill and not the woman who was killed."

"I’ll never get used to this," John said. "Each time you start to profile a killer, it sends a chill down my spine."

"Good," Kelsey said. "Don't become numb to this, or you lose your edge."

"What about you?" John asked.

"Just because I can get in their heads so easily doesn’t mean I am numb to it. These killers give me chills; I just ignore them."

John stopped the truck by the curb. A row of houses lined the residential street, each looking like a mini ranch, and almost every single one was surrounded by a white picket fence. The houses had been there for a long time, and the longer Kelsey looked at them, the worse condition they seemed to be in.

They got out of the truck and went to the door. It only took one knock before a youngish man answered the door.

"Craig Jameson?" John asked.

"Yeah, who’s asking?" John asked confrontationally.

Kelsey and John both took out their identification.

"Deputy Sheriff Gallant and Special Agent Hawk," John said. "Can we come in?"

"Yeah, I mean, sure. What is this about?" Craig asked.

Kelsey got the initial sense that he was a man who had not been in trouble with the law before and would comply with everything that was asked of him. He led them back into the house that was as dilapidated inside as it was out. The wallpaper was straight from the seventies, and most of the furnishings matched.

"We’re here about your sister," John said once they were in the living room. "We have bad news, I’m afraid."

Craig’s face was wrinkled, and he rubbed his nose with his finger and thumb as if John’s comment had caused him immense pain. He didn't look at them, his body tense, waiting for the bad news.

"She was found dead this afternoon," John continued.

"Aw, geez," Craig moaned. "No, no, no." Craig shook his head and rubbed his right thumb with his left. "Aw," he gasped again, looking like he might throw up."

"We will need you to identify her formally. We are sorry for your loss," John said.

"You’re not sorry for my loss," Craig snapped. "You don't care about my loss, and why should you? What happened to her? A deputy sheriff and an FBI agent. She was murdered, right? What leads do you have so far? What information do you need?"

"Woah, woah, woah," John said. "Take a moment and calm down, okay?"

"I don't want to take a moment," Craig said. "Someone killed my sister, and I want to find the son-of-a-bitch who did it. Forty-eight hours, right? That's the key amount of time. So, what do you need?"

John looked at Kelsey, and she could read the question from his expression: did he kill her?

 Kelsey wasn’t sure. He was far too eager, but she leaned toward him not being the killer. John’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

"Sheriff Anderson," he said.

"Take it, and I’ll talk to Craig," Kelsey said.

John quickly walked out of the living room to take the call. Kelsey looked at Craig, trying to work him out. He had a nervous energy, almost like a small puppy who wanted to find a treat.

"Sit down," Kelsey ordered.

Craig looked at her reluctantly but did as he was told. Kelsey sat on the armchair opposite him.

"I understand you want to find your sister’s killer, and you want to help. I want to find the killer too, so we are on the same page, the same team," Kelsey said. "Before we get into that, I want to warn you of one thing. If you take matters into your own hands, it will ruin everything for us. Do you hear me?"

Craig looked unsure, but he nodded. Kelsey knew Craig’s enthusiasm would help them, but it could also hinder them.

"I want your word. We will work the case, and you will do nothing more than give us any information we ask you for. Do I make myself clear?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah," Craig said. He shook his entire body as if shaking away the energy. "Yeah, for sure." He looked at Kelsey blank-eyed as if seeing her for the very first time. "Is… is she really dead?"

"She is," Kelsey said sadly.

The adrenaline and energy were seeping from Craig, and he shrunk before her eyes, sinking further into the couch.

"We need your help," Kelsey said. "Stay with me, Craig."

"Yeah, yeah, I am," he murmured. There was a jolt, and he sat back up. "Yeah, whatever you need."

Kelsey still couldn’t work him out, but she didn't see him as the killer. "Tell me about Tessa," Kelsey said. "Who was she? What did she do?"

"Um, we both moved here a year ago. We lived in Fargo for a while, but it wasn’t for us. I got fired from my job, and Tessa quit hers. It was her idea to move here, and she applied for a teaching job before moving. She teaches high school. I had nothing else going for me, so I moved here with her. I worked as a janitor at the school for a while because of Tessa getting me a job, but it wasn’t all that great. I work as a mechanic’s assistant now. We don't live together. Tessa has a place not far from here. I just saw her yesterday. Yesterday! She was so young. She didn't deserve this. What else do you have? Prints? DNA?"

"Leave that to us," Kelsey said. "What else can you tell me? A jealous ex-boyfriend, someone who had reason to hurt her? Where were you over the past twenty-four hours, Craig?"

"Me?" Craig looked shocked. "You think I did this? I’m trying to help you, and you think I did it?"

"I don't think anything," Kelsey replied. "I only deal in facts. You might have been the last person to see her before she was killed, so do you have an alibi?"

"Yeah, but like, not for the entire time. I live alone, right? I worked late last night and then again this morning. I slept in between, and that’s my alibi. I didn't kill her, okay? I don't even know how she died. How did she die?"

"How about the last time you saw her," Kelsey asked, ignoring the question. "How did she seem?"

Craig sat forward in his chair. "She wasn’t good." His eyes lit up. "I know who did it, and I—"

Kelsey held up her hand before Craig stood up. "Do anything stupid, and I will arrest you. If you interfere, the killer goes free. Please tell me you understand that."

Craig almost vibrated as he sat on the edge of the couch. "Yeah, I get it."

"So, what do you want to tell me?" Kelsey asked.

"Tessa was pissed off. She was in the hardware store in town a couple of days ago, and the owner was a jerk to her. He accused her of shoplifting, and then he tried to detain her. He grabbed her and pretty much sexually assaulted her. Like, not what you are thinking, but he got a handful, if you know what I mean. I was going to go down there, but she begged me not to. I should have paid him a visit. I know you told me not to get involved, but you either go arrest him, or I will take matters into my own hands."

Kelsey raised her hand toward Craig. "Nothing stupid, okay?"

Craig didn’t respond, and Kelsey didn't have the chance to restate the question before John reentered the room.

"Are you done?" John asked. "We need to go."

"We are for now," Kelsey said. She turned back to Craig. "I’m sending someone to take a proper statement, so don't leave the house." She stared at him until he nodded at her to confirm he had heard her instruction.

Kelsey got up and followed John out of the house. She would coordinate with local law enforcement and have them send an officer to take a formal statement and to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

"What did Sheriff Anderson want?" Kelsey asked.

"Tessa Jameson is not the first," John replied. "Carly Benson was killed two days ago. Same method of killing and the same flower in her hands. The coroner over in Ransom County is ready to talk to us."

"Another county?" Kelsey asked. "It might rule them both out, but I want to go to the hardware store first before we leave town. The brother told me that the owner assaulted Tessa a couple of days ago. Maybe that was it, or maybe she wanted to blackmail him over it. Maybe he didn't like her. We speak to the hardware store owner first, and then we go to Ransom County."

CHAPTER SIX

The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and it was another wonderful day. The man smiled to himself as he looked out the window and stretched. It was a wonderful day in a long line of wonderful days, and he struggled to think back to a day when he did not feel completely invigorated. As he looked to the future, he could only see more happiness.

He finished his stretch and picked up his coffee mug from the table beside his armchair. He drained the last of his sugary-sweet coffee and took the mug to his kitchen, where he washed it by hand, dried it, and placed it back in his cupboard. He made sure to turn the cup until the handle was facing the exact same direction as all the others.

He looked out the back window to check on his garden. It was not yet time, but it soon would be. He could plant the root vegetables first, then maybe some tomatoes, and finally some flowers to brighten the yard and attract more bees.

The man went to the back door and put on his boots. They were still muddy from the last time; the mud dried into the soles, but he had not cleaned them because they would only get dirty again. He put on his light jacket, nothing more needed with the warmth in the air, and then his gardening gloves.

Time stopped. Then, it moved backward. He was transported back to the prairies and Tessa Jameson. He had not used the gardening gloves, but he had worn gloves to strangle her. He flexed his fingers, tightening them against his palms and remembering how it felt to drain the life from her.

It had not been instant. It was a lot harder to strangle someone than most people imagined—it was not only the amount of time it took but having to look into their bulging eyes as you did it. That was if they strangled from the front. The man could not imagine sneaking up behind someone to strangle them. It would be harder to get a proper grip, and it felt too impersonal.

He had needed to stare into their eyes as he killed them—he enjoyed it. Strangling Tessa had taken time—not a substantial amount, but far more than stabbing or shooting—and time had slowed as he had killed her. Everything had moved in slow motion as he wrapped his hands around her neck and took the life from her.

The man took a deep breath, breathing in the memory as it replayed in his mind. He could smell it—there was nothing to compare it to, but the kill had a smell—an aroma to describe the kill, just as colors were often paired with emotions. It was a wonderful aroma that only he knew, and it only made the day better.

He dwelled on it for a while longer, smiling the entire time, before he ventured out. He went out the back, but only to go to the shed to pick up his tools: some pruning scissors and a small trowel.

When he returned from his shed, Mrs. Weston was in her backyard staring over the fence.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," the man replied. "Do you need help with your groceries this week?"

"Oh, I’ll be fine," she said. "You are far too busy to think about helping the likes of me."

Mrs. Weston was in her eighties, and while she still had a spring in her step, she got tired very easily.

"Nonsense," the man said. "I always have time for you. Let me start my week first, and then we can shop. How about we say Tuesday or Wednesday evening? I can drive you into town, and we can shop together?"

"You are an angel," Mrs. Weston said. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"It’s a sign of the times, I suppose. I haven’t seen your son or daughter around lately."

"They are so busy nowadays with their families," Mrs. Weston said, the hurt in her voice evident.

"Everyone is busy," the man said. "That’s no excuse for not visiting your mother. That’s the problem with society. We’d all be so much better off if we helped each other, but we are all in our little bubbles, aren’t we? I would give them a good slap around the ear if I could."

Mrs. Weston was horrified and amused by the suggestion.

"I apologize," the man said. "I just don't think it is right, is all."

"I know," Mrs. Weston replied. "There’s little any of us can do about it."

The man knew there was something he could do about it, but it was far too close to home, far too risky. He would gladly teach her son and daughter a lesson for practically abandoning her. It was not that he grudged having to help his neighbor—he was glad to help—it was that she needed his help when her family was within driving distance.

"Yes, little we can do," the man confirmed. He broke out into a pleasant smile and raised his hand with the pruning scissors. "Tuesday! I’ll come knocking, and we can go into town."

"That would be fantastic," Mrs. Weston said. "Are you gardening today?"

"I am indeed. And on that note, there is no rest for the wicked. I will catch up with you again soon, but I must do some work in the front."

Mrs. Weston waved enthusiastically at him as he left the backyard and went to the front. There was not a massive amount of work to be done, but that was only because he kept on top of things. A little work every day and more on the weekend kept his yard under control.

One of the new neighbors passed by the front of his house, speed walking down the road, and he raised a hand in salutation. The man smiled happily and raised his hand to wave back. The neighbor across the street was also out, so the man waved at him also before getting to work.

He knelt down by the flower bed and began digging out the weeds. There were three that had sprung up since the last time he had tackled the flower bed, and if he didn't act swiftly, they would take over. He carefully dug each one, making sure he got all of the roots so they would not sprout again. A few bad weeds could ruin all the flowers. A little ugliness could ruin all of the beauty.

When the weeds were eradicated from the flower bed, he moved to the bush next to it. His prairie roses were coming on well—he needed to select another for the next kill to come. He carefully moved his fingers through the flowers to ensure none were sickly. That could ruin the entire bush, and he would have to clip them to remove the plague.

He spent a few minutes searching for the perfect flower. He found one with bright pink petals and a long stem. He took the pruning scissors and moved his hand to the base of the stem, being careful not to scratch himself on the thorns. He severed it from the shrub just as he had severed Tessa Jameson from the world.

The man held it up and checked it over. When he was satisfied, he opened the pruning scissors and used one of the blades to remove the thorns, slicing them off one at a time. When he was done, the prairie rose was not a threat to anyone who might handle it. He was the threat, and another would soon feel his thorns.

He took the prairie rose back into his house and found a small clear glass vase. He filled it halfway with lukewarm water and placed the flower in. The water would keep it fresh until it was needed.

The kettle was switched back on, and some ground coffee was placed in the single-serve filter. His work was done for now—the rose was ready. There was enough time to enjoy his morning before his preparations would start. He leaned in close to the rose and inhaled. It had a sweet smell. The man wondered what the next kill would smell of. He could not wait to sever the next weed from the world.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kelsey and John walked into the hardware store, the bell above the door ringing as the door hit it. The store was not all that busy; perhaps two or three people were inside, and it was exactly as Kelsey had imagined it would be.

She had been in large hardware chain stores before, and there was a feel to them. The hardware store in the middle of Richford looked and felt disorganized, but Kelsey knew that she could ask an employee where anything was, and they would be able to tell her immediately.

There was one register in the store, not far from the main entrance, but no one operated it. She and John walked through the store until they found an employee helping a customer cut a length of electrical cable. He tied it up for the customer before handing it to him with a smile.

The young employee turned to Kelsey and John. "What can I do you for?"

Kelsey waited until the customer left before taking out her badge. There was no need to make a scene when one was not needed. She had seen how a death affected a town, and the longer she could protect them from that, the better.

"Special Agent Hawk," Kelsey said, showing the young man her badge. "Is the owner here?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," he replied, quickly losing the smile. He looked at Kelsey as if he might ask why she wanted to talk to him, but he thought better of it. "He’s in the back." The employee posted toward the rear of the store.

"Anyone else back there?" John asked.

The employee shook his head.

"What’s his name?" Kelsey asked.

"Sammy," the employee said, looking worried. "Sammy Kerr."

"And is there anything we need to know? Is the door locked, or can we go through?"

"There’s no lock," the young man replied. "There is a backdoor through there if he decides to run."

"Is that an option?" John asked. "Do you think he will run?"

"I don't think so. You know better than me, right? You’ve come here for a reason, and he might run based on that reason, right?"

"Just keep helping customers," Kelsey said.

The young man nodded as if it were the wisest advice he had heard in his life. He walked away from Kelsey and John, nodding.

John led the way to the rear of the store. They found the door to the back room—likely a storage room of some sort. He looked back at Kelsey to ensure she was ready, but he did not pull his gun. Kelsey didn't either—she had a feeling that a gun would not be necessary.

John pushed the door open, and the two of them moved through.

"Sammy!" John called out.

There was no answer. The large room was dark, and shelves were stuffed full of inventory. Even though everything was new and a lot of it was packaged, the large storage area felt dirty and unorganized.

"Sammy!" John called again.

They both listened for a reply or any noise that might indicate where he was, but there was only compete silence. John looked to the side at Kelsey, and she nodded: he would continue through the storage room, looking for Sammy while she went back through the store and looped around to the back in case he had made a run for it.

Kelsey turned, and the large, imposing figure stood before her, holding a hammer in his hand. He raised it to strike her, but Kelsey was quicker, and she pulled her gun.

The man before her quickly dropped the hammer and raised his hands in surrender. John was quickly beside Kelsey, and some mild panic surrounded the group of three.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" the man pleaded.

"Step back!" John commanded.

The man did as he was told, fear in his eyes. He pressed his back to the wall behind him and looked down at the hammer as if he had lost his only chance of survival.

"What are you doing in my store?" the man asked, looking at the gun Kelsey held.

"Sammy?" John asked.

"Samuel," the man corrected.

"Why were you coming at us with a hammer?" John asked.

"I wasn’t; I wasn't," Samuel said, his hands still in the air. I didn't know who you were, and you came into my backroom. I wasn’t going to attack you, but we have had some break-ins recently, and I can't afford to lose any more stock. It’s probably kids, and it was only to scare them. The cops have done absolutely nothing."

Kelsey watched Samuel for a moment before she lowered her gun. Samuel visibly relaxed.

"You’re police, aren’t you?" Samuel asked. "Not local police through."

"Is there somewhere we can go and talk?" Kelsey asked.

Samuel nodded, still very much relieved not to have a gun pointed at him. He walked past them, and as he did, he bent slightly to pick up the hammer but thought better of it and continued past it.

"I’ll get that later," he said. "Follow me."

The shelves wound back and forth to create a maze, using every inch of the storage space. They walked past a door Kelsey assumed led out back and reached an open door leading into a small office. Samuel shepherded them in.

The office consisted of a small desk with an outdated computer—a worn leather swivel chair sat behind the desk. On the other side was one small folding chair. John gestured toward it with a half-smile, and Kelsey sat down.

"Sorry, I don't have any other chairs. Almost never anyone in here. And I can't offer you any coffee or anything either. Now, what is all of this about?"

Kelsey and John both showed their badges and made their introductions.

"Can you please state your full name?" Kelsey asked.

"Am I under arrest?" Samuel asked. He quickly looked worried again, likely remembering at least one of them carried guns, and he should comply with them. "Sorry, Samuel Kerr. Not really used to talking to FBI agents and sheriff’s deputies."

"Samuel Kerr," Kelsey repeated as she jotted the name in her notebook.

She looked up and took him in. Kelsey had some sense of him from the brief interaction in the storage room. He was not a fighter—he had rolled over as soon as she drew her gun, and she believed him when he had said he didn't intend to use the hammer to attack them. It was a deterrent and nothing more.

Samuel must have been in his early to mid-fifties and was of average height and balding. He was trying his best to sit up straight and project what he was not. Beneath it all, he was small and worried.

"How long have you owned the store?" John asked.

Samuel’s mouth hung open as he thought about it. "Going on twenty-two years now."

"Where were you yesterday and this morning?" Kelsey asked.

"What?"

"Yesterday and this morning. Where were you?" Kelsey repeated.

Samuel looked more worried. If they were asking that question, they meant to find out if he had done something wrong.

"I… I was here in the storage room this morning, and I was here all day yesterday."

"All day? What does that mean?" Kelsey asked.

"8 am until 8 pm," he replied. "Went straight home after that. Had supper, watched some TV, went to bed. Simple as that," Samuel claimed.

"Do you have someone who can confirm that?" Kelsey probed.

"Yeah, I’m sure I can get confirmation. I had three employees working yesterday, some overlapping shifts, but someone was here when I was here. And you can talk to my wife. Went straight home after work, ate with her, and then we watched TV together. We went to bed at eleven, just as we do every night. What’s going on?"

"Do you know Tessa Jameson?" Kelsey asked.

Samuel looked even more worried if that were possible. "I don't know her," Samuel said. "Who is that?"

Kelsey waited a moment before answering. "She’s the woman we found dead this afternoon."

"Dead?" Samuel asked, his face turning white. "Why are you here? You don't think I had anything to do with that, do you?"

"You tell us," John said.

"I am telling you. I had nothing to do with her death, and I don't even know who she is. Talk to my staff; talk to my wife. They will all confirm I couldn’t have done it. I’ll help in any way I can, but I don't know her."

"That’s not what her brother told us," John said. "He told us you tried to sexually assault her in your store."

"What?" Samuel exclaimed in complete surprise. "What are you talking about? I—"

"Sit down!" John ordered when Samuel stood up from his chair.

Samuel sat down immediately, almost shaking. "Whoever told you that is lying to you. I’ve never done anything like that in my life."

Kelsey watched him. She hadn’t got the sense that Craig Jameson had lied to her, but it was complicated. There was a chance he had lied to them or that Tessa had lied to him. Of course, there was still the chance Samuel was lying. Kelsey watched Samuel, and he looked too afraid to be lying to them.

"We were informed that Tessa Jameson visited your store two days ago, and you accused her of shoplifting, and you tried to detain her, and when she made to leave, you groped her." Kelsey watched Samuel closely as he told him when she had been told.

Samuel’s mouth hung open, and he shook his head in disbelief. Then, something changed in his eyes. "No, I remember her. I didn’t know that was her name, but I do remember her."

"So, you admit to assaulting her?" John asked.

Kelsey could feel his annoyance. When it came to anything sexual or involving children, he lost his cool easily and took it upon himself to right any wrongs.

"No, I didn't assault her. Listen, she was in here, but that’s not what happened. She’s been in my store a few times and tried lifting things multiple times. She’s a thief. She came in, and I watched her closely this time. I saw her stick some copper screws in her pocket, and I don't even know why she went for them—they are not worth stealing. Heck, if she were in a bind, I would have probably given her them for free. But it’s the principle of it.

"I saw her take something else, and I confronted her. She denied it to my face." Samuel’s lips turned up into a sneering smile as he remembered the incident. "I saw her take the stuff, and she lied to my face." Samuel put his hands up again. "I will admit that I did try to detain her so I could call the cops because I wasn’t letting her get away with it this time, and maybe I was a little too rough, but I didn't assault her. That’s when she started screaming about me groping her and being a dirty old man, and I didn't know if there were any customers or whatever, but I let her go. I know what goes on nowadays, and even though she was lying, I didn't want any part of that. It was a couple of packs or screws, and I’ll take the loss over being accused of sexual assault."

"CCTV?" John asked.

"No," Samuel sighed. "I can’t afford to put it in."

"Witnesses?" Kelsey asked.

"No," Samuel said. "We did have a customer, but they were in the back of the store, and when they came to see what was going on, she was already gone. My employee was on a break and out back smoking." Samuel put his hands up in surrender again, looking much more comfortable in that position than any other. "I know it looks bad because there are no witnesses, but I’m telling you the truth. She’s lying."

"She’s dead," John reminded him.

"I didn't kill her," Samuel replied.

Kelsey looked up at John, and he deferred to her on what to do next. It sounded next to impossible to sort out the mess. Samuel said one thing, and Craig said another, though he was only relaying what Tessa had told him, and he was not around to be questioned. With no CCTV or witnesses, it would be hard to nail down exactly what happened.

Still, Kelsey believed both Samuel and James.

"Whoever is taking Craig Jameson’s statement is to come here after and take Samuel’s statement." Kelsey turned to Samuel. "Don’t leave town, Mr. Kerr."

"No, I won’t," he replied quickly. "Whatever you need, I’m here to help."

Kelsey couldn’t be sure if he was talking about the murder investigation or his store.

"Let’s get out of here," Kelsey said to John. "We’ll talk to the coroner in Ransom County and see what we are really dealing with."

CHAPTER EIGHT

On their way to Ransom County, they made a quick pit stop to pick up coffee and lunch. Kelsey hadn’t eaten since the plane ride back from Quantico in Virginia. She had left the airport and gone straight to the crime scene. She needed to go home and shower, visit her sister, and talk with Sheriff Anderson. On top of that, she had SAC Granger and his investigation to worry about.

Being on the trail of another killer was almost a welcome relief. She would rather there was no killer to chase, but at least it was familiar ground. She could do nothing to help her sister, no matter how much she wanted to help. It was the opposite of the case. She always felt she was moving toward a positive outcome, and she was able to read the evidence better than most. As long as she was thinking about where the evidence led, she didn't have to think about where the evidence Granger had accumulated would lead.

"Are you okay?" John asked as he drove. "You’ve been mighty quiet for a while now."

"Yeah, just thinking about… everything," Kelsey replied. "What a mess our lives are."

John laughed. "Speak for yourself. I only like to have one mess at a time. What do you have? Like half a dozen at a minimum? I really don't know how you do it, Kelsey."

"It’s like having multiple types of bacteria in your body, right? One type, and it kills you, but toss in five more, and they all fight it out and leave you alone," Kelsey replied.

"Thank goodness you didn't become a doctor."

Kelsey laughed.

"And is that true for messes? It seems to me they would just all weigh on you and bog you down," John pointed out.

"That’s really optimistic. Thank you for making me feel better. When I become a doctor, you can become a motivational speaker." Kelsey smiled as she looked out of the window, watching the buildings fly by.

"How about I send people to you after speaking to them motivationally, and you can treat them?"

"And when I treat them, they are going to need more motivation, and they will have to go back to you, and then me, and back and forth. It’s an infinite money loop."

"Sounds like a pretty good life to me," John noted.

Kelsey couldn’t think about a life outside the one she currently had. There was no room in her heart right now for anyone else, and with a potential arrest coming at the end of the case, she couldn’t risk getting close to John only to be taken from him.

"How is Samantha doing with the divorce?" Kelsey asked.

The question surprised John. Kelsey felt bad for changing the subject so rashly.

"She was angry at first," John said. "Not strictly because of the divorce. I mean, the divorce triggered it, but I wasn’t the one to ask for it, and it didn't come out of the blue for either of us. I think it became real to her at that point. Maybe she felt like I did, that she had failed at our relationship. I know she worries about Kimberly and what this will do to her. Kimberly is only seven years old. How are you supposed to explain that to a kid?"

"I don't think you do," Kelsey admitted. She didn't want John to focus on his problems, but it was nice not to think about her own problems for once. "Kids are smart, though, smarter than we think. She’ll know what’s going on and work through it in her own way."

Kelsey thought back to when she was ten and her parents were brutally murdered in their family home. It had been the end of the world for her, but she had made it through somehow. If she could make it through that, Kimberly could make it through her parent's divorce.

Kelsey didn't say that to John. It was the type of comment that went best unsaid.

"Samantha is good now," John continued, "but there’s still something below the surface. Some resentment, whether at me or herself, or both of us; I don't know. I still love her, and I know she still loves me, but we are not in love with each other anymore and haven’t been for a while. This all sounds so sad, doesn’t it?"

"It does," Kelsey admitted, "but sometimes, life is sad."

The comment shut down the conversion as they both contemplated what their lives were. Shortly after, John slowed the truck.

"We’re here," he said as he pulled into a parking lot.

Kelsey stirred. She was tired, but there would be no time to sleep. She had the feeling she and John were in for a very long day.

They entered the coroner’s office and checked in at the reception desk. The two of them were shown through to the coroner’s office. He was waiting for them, eating a salad, when they entered.

"Please, come in and take a seat," he said. "Excuse me a moment."

The coroner took one more bite before he pushed the salad to the side and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin.

"Is it true there has been another?" the coroner asked.

"We think so," Kelsey replied.

The coroner wiped his mouth a second time. "From what I have heard, they’ve turned up no leads so far on who might have done this."

"How about you take us through what you know so far, and we will follow up with local law enforcement," John said. "We might be able to see something with fresh eyes."

"Sounds good," the coroner said. He picked something out of his teeth with his nail and wiped it on his napkin. He opened the folder on his desk and took out some photographs. "These are all from the crime scene. An abandoned parking garage on the edge of town. It hasn’t been used for years, but youths often hang out in it on the weekend. That’s who found her. They went in there on Friday night to have some drinks and skateboard around, and she was on the second level, just lying there like that."

John picked up one of the photographs and passed it to Kelsey.

"This is the same guy," she said.

The woman in the photo was very different, but the pose and the flower were the same, even down to the color and shade of the prairie rose.

"What can you tell us about her?" Kelsey asked.

"She was local," the coroner replied. "I didn't know her, but some of the cops did. Carly Benson, twenty-eight years old, worked as a veterinarian in town. From what I know, she lived here all her life."

Kelsey looked at the photograph again. Carly Benson was athletic with striking, pointed features and long, flowing blonde hair. She was a woman, and so was Tessa—that was the only connection they had at the moment.

"Strangled?" Kelsey asked, already knowing the answer. It was obvious from the marks on her neck.

"Yeah, that was the cause of death," the coroner confirmed.

"Any other injuries?" Kelsey asked. "Anything in her system? Signs of sexual assault?"

"No, nothing like that. We checked the body, and there were no injuries made by the killer. No signs of sexual assault. Not a scratch on her body. Although, we did find something interesting."

"What?" Kelsey asked.

"Small threads in the corner of her mouth," the coroner said.

"Okay," Kelsey said. "So, she must have been restrained in some way. The killer gagged her, and if he gagged her, he likely had her tied up. But he was gentle. The killing was violent, but he was not. He treated her well up until the moment of her death. And if he gagged her, then he didn't sedate her. She was awake when he got his hands on her, and he bound her in some way, took her to the garage, and killed her. So, we are looking for someone the victim might have known and trusted or someone non-threatening."

"Do you know if local law enforcement has been talking to anyone about this? Someone who might have done it?" John asked.

"I haven’t heard anything," the coroner said.

"How about the prairie rose? Did it have the thorns removed?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, it did," the coroner said with a slight frown. He pulled another photo from the folder and passed it to Kelsey. It showed the prairie rose on its own—the long green stem devoid of thorns.

"What does it mean?" Kelsey wondered out loud. "What’s the significance of the prairie rose?"

"It’s the state flower of North Dakota," the coroner said. "I’ve also heard that some Native American tribes see it as a symbol of life. If you look at beadwork and stitching from tribes in the area, you’ll see the prairie rose as a motif."

"A symbol of life." Kelsey sighed. "The killer doesn’t see it as a symbol of life. And it’s nothing to do with anything Native American—I don't see any connection. Could be connected to the state flower, but what does that give us? Some state pride? Could just be his flower of choice. Anything else you can tell us about the murder? If law enforcement hasn’t brought anyone in, I’m assuming there’s no DNA evidence."

"You’re right," the coroner said. "The body was clean. He must have worn gloves."

"How about the markings on the neck?" Kelsey asked. "Can you approximate his size or anything else? Dominant hand?"

"I can give you a rough estimate, but nothing more than telling you that he’s probably average height and size. I don't know if I have anything that helps you."

"I want you to work with the coroner who is doing the autopsy on Tessa Jameson’s body. Compare the two and see if anything sticks out, though I don't know if we will get a hit from the autopsies. Still, the more we have, the better."

"Do you want to go and talk to the cops?" John asked.

"I do," Kelsey said. "I want to go over everything they have so far and then decide if we need to talk to anyone else. I’ve been thinking about it, and all we have are two women spaced far apart. The killer could be local to one of the kills, but with them being spread out, it tells me he is from neither place."

Kelsey’s phone rang. She checked it, ready to ignore it and continue talking with John, but when she saw it was the hospital, she answered immediately.

"Hello?" Kelsey answered.

"Miss Hawk?" the woman on the other end of the line answered.

"Speaking. Is everything okay? Has something happened to Erica?"

"She, uh, had an accident. How soon can you be here?" the woman asked.

"An accident? What kind of accident?"

"I think it’s better if we talk in person," the woman said.

"I’m on my way," Kelsey said, annoyed that she had left town. She hung up and turned to John. "We need to return now. Something happened to Erica."

CHAPTER NINE

Neil Saunders stuck out his fist, and his friend bumped it.

"You sure you don't want to stay, Neil?" Jason asked. "You can't leave us now when you are so flush with cash. If you need a hand with your mystery job, I will sign up right now."

Neil laughed. He and his friends were just the right amount of drunk, a merriness floating over them all. That was mostly down to him. When they went to the pub, they usually only had a couple of pints, none of them making much money, but Neil had come into some money from his side gig, and he had treated his friends.

After all, what good was having money if you didn't spend it on stuff? His friends had helped him out of some tight spots, so it was his turn to repay the favors. It was something he liked about small-town life. Sure, cities had a lot more going for them and lots of opportunities, but the people were not the same. As he looked at the smiles and bleary eyes, he could see it was worth it.

"Time for me to head home," Neil said.

That was met by a collective groan.

"Don't worry, lads, if the money keeps rolling in, you know I’ll take care of you all." Neil stuck out his fist again, and it was met by a round of fist bumps. He raised his hand in the air to wave goodbye, and spun on his heels, dancing away for the first few steps before he chuckled and walked.

He was twenty-four years old, and the world was at his feet. He’d graduated college the previous summer and had been finding his feet for the past nine months. He knew he would have a better chance of landing a good job if he moved to Fargo or somewhere else, but he didn't want to leave town yet. He had done almost everything on his own, but something about leaving his birthplace scared him.

Neil chucked at his own insecurity and lack of confidence. He slowed a little when he saw a shadowy figure fifteen yards in front of him. It was not so late that no one should be on the streets, but late enough that it was usually empty when he was walking home. Thankfully, the person was walking away from him and not towards him.

Alcohol usually gave him more courage, but adrenaline pumped through him and sobered him for now.

Something dropped from the figure in front, but the person did not notice and continued to walk.

Neil frowned as if he had missed something. He continued to walk, matching the pace of the persons in front so he remained fifteen yards behind. When he got to the object, he stoped down and picked it up. It was a wallet.

His immediate thought was to call out or to run and catch up with the person, but another thought told him to open it like a Christmas gift just for him. Neil listened to that other thought. He continued to walk but slowed his pace more to put more distance between them. He opened the wallet to find a couple of useless cards: a library card and a loyalty card for a hardware store, but when he pulled the wallet open further, he found five or six bills. He quickly shut it and stuffed it in his pocket, claiming the money as his own.

He had the briefest idea to go back to the pub and get even drunker, but he was on his way home and remained on that path.

Then, the weirdest thing happened. The figure before him turned to his left and into a parking lot, but before he entered the parking lot, he hesitated. It looked to Neil like the person was checking that Neil was behind. He felt the terror run through him. It became crystal clear that the person was orchestrating some sort of trap; they expected Neil to follow them to return the wallet, and there would be other people in the parking lot to beat and rob him.

Neil smiled. A better man might do exactly that. Neil chuckled to himself.

Good thing I’m not a better man.

Neil patted his pocket to ensure the wallet was still in there. He couldn’t return it now, even if he wanted to. He stopped in his tracks and looked down the street to where the person had entered the three-story building, making sure the figure didn’t reemerge. Neil didn't feel like returning to the pub was a wise option. He needed to get off the streets for the night.

No one emerged from the parking lot. Neil took a deep breath, feeling as sober as he had at the start of the night, and he crossed the street. He would take the longer way home, the safer way. He took one last look across the street before ducking down a back alley.

He ran through it and out the other side onto the main street. He stopped running but kept a brisk walking pace, making left and right turns as he meandered his way home. When he was five minutes from home, he stopped in another back alley to relieve himself. He unzipped his pants and sprayed the wall like an artist doodling. It felt good to get it all out. He zipped up when he was done and turned around to—

He knew it was the figure from before. He looked into the man’s eyes, and his first thought was to grab the wallet from his pants and give it back. He opened his mouth to tell the man there had been a terrible mistake, but he never got the chance.

The man lunged forward, grabbing Neil around the neck and choking any words from him. Neil was pushed back until his head slammed into the bricks behind him, and his vision blurred—white lights danced in his eyes. It wasn’t until his stomach lurched—trying to expel its contents—that he sprung into an action.

Survival instinct kicked in, and his hands went immediately to his neck, clawing at the fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. The grip was too tight, or he was too weak; he couldn’t quite figure it out with the lack of oxygen in his body.

Neil could only remember the eyes—the dark, piercing eyes and the look of self-righteousness in them. He hadn’t had time to see his face before his head was slammed against the wall, and he couldn’t see anything now with his vision blurred. He couldn’t remove the choking fingers from around his neck, so he reached out for the blurred head before him. He grabbed the head in both hands, but he was shaken off. When he went back a second time, he couldn’t feel the head anymore. His arms didn't work as they should, and they didn't have any strength anyway. He made one last fruitless attempt to remove the fingers from around his neck, but it was like a baby trying to fight a tiger.

His hands slipped to his sides, and he felt everything slip away. His vision darkened, and the blur disappeared into darkness. He had an iota of strength left, enough to tap his pocket—the wallet was still there.

For a wallet!

It was a ludicrous thought, but it was all he could think.

I’m dying because of a stupid, fricking wallet!

CHAPTER TEN

Kelsey rushed into the hospital, fearing the worst. Whenever someone wouldn’t tell you what had happened over the phone, it usually meant that the worst thing possible had happened. Kelsey tried not to think about it, but she could only imagine one thing: her sister had died.

The hospital was a whirlwind of activity, a symphony of urgent voices and hurried footsteps. Amidst the chaos, Kelsey navigated her way to the reception desk, her presence unnoticed in the sea of people dealing with their own crises.

"Kelsey Hawk," she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper. The woman behind the desk looked up, her face a mask of professional indifference. Kelsey couldn’t remember if she had spoken to this woman before. "I’m here to see Erica Hawk," she choked out, her voice betraying her desperation.

"Please take a seat," the woman behind the desk said. "Someone will be with you soon."

"No, something happened. They called me in because something happened to her," Kelsey said. "Is my sister okay? Is she still alive?"

Something clicked with the receptionist, and she tapped on the keyboard before her. "Someone will be right with you," she said quickly.

Kelsey waved her hand dismissively. "No, I’m done waiting." She walked past the desk and through the hospital, needing to see it for herself."

The receptionist called after her, but Kelsey ignored the shout. She worried that the receptionist would send security after her, so she quickened her pace and then broke into a run. She passed doctors and nurses, some of whom recognized her and others who thought about stopping her. No one did.

Kelsey almost made it to the room when she stopped. Her heart beat furiously, and she needed to throw up. She didn't want to see it. She wanted to have her sister for a little longer. They hadn’t said she had died, but Kelsey knew there was an empty bed waiting for her.

She mustered her courage and took the plunge. She kept her head down as she walked past the window that looked into the room and entered, prepared to take it all in at once.

Kelsey gasped. She looked at the bed and the emotions ran through her, overwhelming her and threatening to shut everything down. A nurse bounded into the room a moment later, one she recognized.

Nurse Wick took Kelsey by the arm and dragged her from the room, annoyed at what Kelsey had done.

Kelsey had dealt with the nurse many times, but that didn't initially register as she was dragged from the room. Nurse Wick had held Kelsey and her sister immeasurably, orchestrating Erica's care, but Kelsey wanted to fight as she was pulled from the room.

Kelsey knew she should not have barged her way in, but she had to. She looked through the window into the room as the nurse led her away to see her sister tethered to the bed with two leather straps, one around each wrist, the left one a larger loop to accommodate the fresh cast on her arm.

"What happened?" Kelsey hissed when she had been dragged far enough away from the room.

She looked into the nurse’s deep, brown eyes, and the caring expression found there calmed Kelsey enough to think a little more reasonably. Nurse Wick had soothing eyes and a strong grip—both were invaluable in a hospital.

"Your sister had another episode," Nurse Wick said. "She attacked two nurses."

"Did they attack her?" Kelsey asked, remembering the cast. She was deeply relieved to have not lost her sister, but her protective nature kicked in.

"No, they didn't attack her," the nurse replied as if talking to a child. "Your sister woke, and she freaked out again. She could see someone in the room even though there was no one in there, and she got out of bed even though she was not supposed to have the strength yet. Two of my nurses went in there, and one of them came out with a black eye. Your sister tried to bite them both. She broke her wrists when she tried to jump the bed to escape. She would have done a lot worse to herself if my nurses hadn’t remained in that room. They put their lives in danger to help her."

Kelsey rubbed her forehead. She felt far too tired to be dealing with any of this. "I’m sorry," she offered.

"It’s not your fault," the nurse told her. "It’s not anyone’s fault, but we have to consider how we deal with this. It’s not ideal to have your sister shackled to the bed, but I can't have her assaulting my staff either."

"I—" Kelsey started. She had wanted to promise that it wouldn’t happen again, but that was not a promise she could make.

"She’s a lot better when you are around," Nurse Wick said. "I know it probably doesn’t feel like it, but it’s true."

Kelsey sighed, and for a moment, everything was futile.

"I want to be around, but I can’t," Kelsey said. "Nothing is more important than my sister, but I have to work. I know that won’t make sense, but—"

"It does," the nurse confirmed. "I mean, it does, and it doesn't. I don't know you personally, but I know you by reputation, Special Agent Hawk, and I know what you have done for this town. If you tell me you need to do something, I believe that it’s important. That still leaves us with the problem of your sister. If she doesn’t get any better soon, we will have to move her to another facility. Somewhere better equipped to deal with this."

"You can't move her from Winchburgh," Kelsey pleaded. "I need to be here for her."

"We’ve helped her as much as we can, and we will continue to do that, but I can't make any promises."

Kelsey wiped the tear from her eye. "I know, I know. You’ve done so much, all of you, and I can't thank you enough, but I won’t lose my sister." Kelsey wondered if running was the right option. She could take her sister, and they could deal with things together.

"Can you stay?" Nurse Wick asked. "If she sees your face when she wakes, it will help."

It didn't matter what the situation was; Kelsey would have said yes. John had gone back to the Sheriff’s Office to coordinate with the local counties to start the investigation into the two murders. She trusted him with that, and if there were anything important, he would call her.

"I’m here to stay," Kelsey said.

For now.

She went back to her sister’s room and sat back in the familiar chair. It hadn’t been that long since she had been by her sister’s bedside, but so much had happened between then and now that it felt like an eternity.

Kelsey looked at her sister and wanted to cry. She looked so peaceful; she always looked peaceful after being sedated. She couldn’t possibly have done what Nurse Wick claimed she had done, but Kelsey knew it was true. She had seen what her sister could do, and she had worried. It was only a matter of time until someone got hurt.

That time had come.

Kelsey looked from the peaceful face, eyes closed, to the cast that had been applied to her sister’s arm, to the leather restraints that looked like they belonged on a crazy person.

She is a crazy person!

Kelsey didn't want to think about her sister like that, but it was true. She was not crazy in the worst sense of the word but crazy in the fact that she needed professional help not to be crazy anymore. It tore Kelsey apart. Not just the fact that her sister was still in pain after being abducted and held for two decades but that Kelsey really couldn’t help now. Perhaps her sister was better when she was around, but Kelsey couldn’t be around when there was a killer on the loose.

She couldn’t stop investigating the murders, or she would be shipped back to Quantico, and she would be even farther from Erica.

"Kelsey?" Erica murmured.

"I’m here," Kelsey replied. She reached forward to take her sister’s hand before realizing half of that hand was now in a cast.

"They came for me," Erica said.

Kelsey sighed, trying to keep it together.

"They didn't come for you," Kelsey said. "No one is coming for you now, I promise."

"I know," Erica said, her voice dreamy and flowing like a babbling brook. "It really wasn’t them. I thought it was, but it wasn’t. I think I messed up."

Kelsey let out a gasping sob and brought her hands to her mouth.

"No," Kelsey said, her voice shaking. "You didn't mess up. You could never mess up, not after what you have been through. Every day you manage to stay alive is a miracle. I’m here now."

"Are you staying?" Erica asked.

The question cut Kelsey like a knife. She gaped like a fish as she tried to figure out what to say.

"I know you would stay if you could," Erica murmured. "I did mess up; I know it. I’m not in control of myself, Kelsey. There is a demon deep inside me, and I try to stop it from coming out, but I can't stop it. I want all of this to go away. I don't think it will ever go away."

"It will," Kelsey said quickly. She placed her hand on the hard cast. "It will go away, and we can be together properly. I don't know when or how, but I promise it will disappear. I know I will have to go away again, but I will always come back."

"You promise?" Erica asked.

Kelsey knew she couldn’t promise that, especially when the case ended. "I promise," Kelsey said.

"I just want to go home," Erica said.

"I do, too," Kelsey agreed.

The only problem was Kelsey didn't know where home was for them now. She had begun to feel at home in Winchburgh, but home now would be wherever her sister was. It didn't matter where her sister wanted to go; Kelsey would be there with her.

"I’m so sleepy," Erica said.

"Sleep," Kelsey said. "I’ll be here by your side."

"Will you say sorry to her for me?" Erica asked.

"Who?"

"I don't know. All the people I have hurt."

Kelsey didn't have a chance to talk with her sister anymore. Erica’s breathing changed, showing she had fallen asleep again. Kelsey sat back in the chair, feeling the strain of the past year fall on her shoulders again. She was tired, too, but she was not done fighting. Erica had done her part by staying alive, and it was Kelsey’s turn to push through the pain and make their lives better.

But before that came sleep for Kelsey, too, as the most uncomfortable chair suddenly became comfortable enough to fall asleep.

***

Kelsey woke with a start. She didn’t remember where she was for a second until the room materialized around her, and she realized she was still in the room with Erica. A dim light filtered in under the curtain.

It’s not night yet.

Kelsey pulled out her phone; it was still vibrating and was what had woken her. She saw two things simultaneously. It was not almost night but early morning—she had slept through most of the night in the chair—and John was calling.

She answered the phone, talking quietly to avoid disturbing her sister. "Hey, do you have an update on the case?"

"Yeah," John said. "A third victim."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Kelsey arrived at the crime scene, she thought for a moment that John was coming in for a full hug. He suffered a moment of indecision and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Bad," Kelsey replied. "Which is a lot better than my usual state of being awful. I managed to sleep last night, but my neck is killing me, and I have a pain in my lower back."

"And your sister?" John asked.

"I spoke to her briefly last night, but she’s not doing good, and I’m worried they will ship her off to some facility. I’m still working out how I can stay here when this case is done, and I can't think about her being taken before that happens."

"We will work it out," John said.

Kelsey appreciated his words, but they were empty. There was nothing anyone could say to her that would not feel empty.

"I don't want to think about it," Kelsey admitted. "How about I take my mind off it with a dead body?"

John gave a morose chuckle. "The body is over here, and they still have the person who found him."

"Him?" Kelsey asked.

"A male this time," John said.

"That’s annoying," Kelsey said. "The first two victims were female, giving a connection, but now we have a male. We are back around the Richford area, which connects the second and third murders, but the first was a long way from here. This body is too close to the second murderer for it not to be a connection, but why the location of the first? We can figure that out after this. Take me to the body."

John led her to a back alley where the body lay. It was the same position again: legs straight out, arms folded across the chest, and hands clasped around a prairie rose. A forensic scientist was crouched by the body, examining the immediate area.

"So, same as the previous two," Kelsey noted.

"Not exactly the same," John said. "There was more force involved in this one. The victim was strangled, and that looks like the official cause of death, but he was thrown against the wall first. There is blunt force trauma to the back of his head and traces of blood and skin on the wall."

Kelsey stared down at the body. He must have been in his mid-twenties and had striking red hair. His nose was dotted with freckles, but none anywhere else that could be seen. The young man was skinny but not unhealthy.

"He chose a man this time," Kelsey said, thinking out loud. "But the man was stronger than his first two victims. He couldn’t only strangle him; he had to bash his head against the wall to subdue him first. The killer kidnapped the first victim and took her to the parking garage. We don't know about the second victim yet."

"No signs of being tied up," John confirmed.

"And the third. If you bash someone’s head in, you either take them by surprise, or you walk up to them and do it without luring them somewhere first," Kelsey said. "I’m presuming he was found this morning, so he was killed through the night, meaning the streets would be empty enough to murder the victim. Maybe the killer followed him and waited for an opportune moment. And the flower in his hands again. More force this time, but it was a necessity. The strangulation was the only real force in the murder and then the celebration. The killer is happy to have these people dead, but why?"

"You tell me," John said.

Kelsey took a deep breath. "I don't know yet, but I will. Who found him?"

"Streetcleaner. He was out early this morning sweeping the street and found the body. This is part of his regular route, but I don't know if the killer knew that and planned it this way."

"Maybe," Kelsey agreed. She looked over at the street sweeper as an officer was interviewing him, and he looked her way for a second before looking back at the officer. "Anything from him?"

"Nothing helpful," John replied. "He was sweeping, and he saw the body before he touched it with his brush. He checked for a pulse, so we will take his fingerprints to rule him out. Then, we called the police and waited there until they arrived. I don't think he’s the killer."

"No, I agree," Kelsey said. "I’m sorry I couldn’t help yesterday. I—"

"You had much more important things to deal with. There’s nothing to apologize for. Do you want to speak to him?"

"No, I don't think I need to," Kelsey said.

"I know I could do with a coffee, so how about I treat you to one, too, and I can go over the case with you?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Kelsey said.

***

She had eaten pancakes and syrup on many occasions previously, but something about the taste unlocked a memory deep within. It was not a particularly important or interesting memory, but it was pleasant. She was seven or eight and in the kitchen while her father cooked pancakes. He flipped them up in the pan to turn them over, and every time he did, Erica laughed.

Kelsey smiled as she chewed on the first mouthful.

"Feel better?" John asked.

"I’m still sore, but I actually feel somewhat rested after sleeping in the hospital and then having to drive all the way out here." Kelsey raised the coffee. "This helps."

"We have the autopsy report back from Tessa Jameson," John said. "It confirms pretty much what we know already. Except for the time of death—she died sometime in the twenty-four hours before she was found. As expected, strangulation was the cause of death, just like Carly Benson. Nothing in her system, no drugs or alcohol. The difference is they don't think she was restrained leading up to her death. There are no fibers around her mouth and no abrasions on her wrists or ankles. She could have been restrained, but if she was, it was done very carefully, and she didn’t struggle all that much. Either way, the coroner believes she was running for her life."

Kelsey stopped eating and looked at John. She thought about the poor woman running through the prairies to escape her killer and dying at the end of it.

She must have been so frightened.

"He doesn’t know for sure," John continued, "but there was extra stress on her heart before death, and her leg muscles show microscopic evidence of strain and fatigue. It could mean a dozen other things, but it does make sense in the context."

"Yeah, it does," Kelsey agreed. "How about the entry points?"

"They are still looking into it. To end up where she was, there were five or six places she could have entered from. I can't tell from her clothes, but they could be running clothes. Maybe she went for a run out there, and he found her. Although to get from one of the entry points to where she was found, she would have to have driven there."

"Are you thinking the killer drove her there?" Kelsey asked.

"It makes more sense. Maybe he did have her bound and then cleaned her up or something. He took her out there and made her feel the thrill of the chase. I don't know," John admitted.

"He might have known her. If she knew the killer, she might have got into his vehicle willingly, and he took her out there to kill her," Kelsey said.

John took a bite of his sausage and talked with his mouth full out of necessity. "That would make him local, but we have the other body from out of county."

"We do, so we look at both angles," Kelsey said. "We have a third body in town, so we look for someone local who knew both this recent victim and Tessa, and we try to connect Carly Benson to the Richford area. If we can do that, we narrow down the suspect pool."

"I liaised with the officers who searched Tessa’s house, and they didn't find anything," John said. "She didn't live in the best area, but her house was relatively clean. No bags packed as if she were in trouble and might leave, the fridge was fully stocked, no forced entry into the house, no sign of any struggle."

"What do we know about her? Brother in town, no other family ties, she worked as a schoolteacher, right? And if Samuel Kerr is to be believed, she liked to shoplift. Where are we at with him?"

"No CCTV, as he said, but his employees do confirm he was at work all day, but he does spend a lot of time in the back room, so there is a chance to slip out. The employee who worked on the day Craig accused Samuel of assaulting his sister gave us a statement, and it was just as Samuel said. He was out back having a smoke, heard a commotion, and when he returned to the store, the commotion was over. I checked with Samuel’s wife, and she confirmed the rest of his story. From what she didn't say, I get the impression Samuel is boring her. He works long hours, eats, watches TV, and sleeps. Repeat that six days a week."

"Could be a trigger," Kelsey said. "He lives in a small town and is bored of his routine and needs a release. I looked him in the eye and I didn't see a killer, but we keep him in mind."

"Finally, Carly Benson is an interesting one," John noted.

"What did you find?"

"I spoke to local law enforcement up in Ransom County to get an idea of who she was, and on the surface, she was a caring person who loved people and animals, hence the vocation as a vet, but she loved loved people, and she was very well known in her town."

"Ah," Kelsey said. "She had relations with a lot of people."

"Exactly."

"It will take time, but can you have someone up there look into it some more?" Kelsey asked. "Find out who she had relations with and who might have become jealous because of that. Maybe someone who slept with Carly also slept with Tessa and our John Doe out there."

"You think?" John asked.

"It’s a brave new world out there."

"Far too complicated for me," John admitted. "I just want a woman to settle down with—I mean, that’s not what I’m looking for, but I enjoyed being married for as long as it lasted."

Kelsey couldn’t bring herself to look John in the eye after his comment. She wiped up the last of the maple syrup on her plate with a chunk of pancake and ate it. "Come on, let’s see if they have identified our John Doe. I want to talk to the next of kin as soon as we can."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jason Cooper tried to tidy up his small apartment as he invited Kelsey and John in. He looked a little worse for wear, and they had woken him when they had knocked on his door. He ran his hands through his long, greasy hair every few seconds and looked like he might throw up.

Kelsey looked at John, and they both shared a knowing look. He returned a small smile. They had both lived like that at some point in their lives.

"Eh, I can make some coffee," Jason said. "I think."

"That won’t be necessary," Kelsey said. "We just had some."

"Uh, do you mind if I make some for myself?" he asked. "I just think I would think better if I could… if I could think."

"Big night last night?" John asked.

"Yeah, drinking at the pub and then back here for a few." Jason looked around and spotted the empty beer cans under the couch. He grabbed those and scurried through the kitchen.

"He didn't even ask us why we were here," John said. "Is that weird?"

"From the very little I know about him, it doesn’t seem weird at all. He’s obviously hungover, but I get the impression he is like this most of the time."

The John Doe had been very quickly identified as Neil Saunders. He was twenty-four years old and a recent graduate from Jamestown University. His parents lived in Minot, and local law was on their way there to inform them of his death.

Jason returned a couple of minutes later with a cup of steaming hot coffee. Kelsey watched him curiously as he sat down on the couch, cradling the coffee like a newborn baby, even though the liquid inside looked scalding hot, and it must be burning his fingers. For some reason, he had also filled it to the brim, and the coffee threatened to spill over at any moment. Jason sipped the liquid and then screwed up his face when he burned his lips.

Kelsey couldn’t help but smile at the young man. She hadn’t thought he might be the killer—they were only there to interview him as a friend of Neil’s—and on seeing him, she knew he was not a suspect.

Unless he was the greatest actor of all time.

"Uh, you showed me your badges at the door, but I—" Jason looked for somewhere to put down his coffee and settled on the floor. "Yeah, I didn't even ask why you are here. Am I in trouble or something?"

"No, you are not in trouble," Kelsey said. "We want to talk to you about Neil Saunders. We asked around about him, and we were informed you were one of his closest friends."

"Yeah, we are tight," Jason replied.

"When was the last time you saw Neil?" Kelsey asked.

"Has something happened to him? Is Neil missing? Is he in trouble?" Jason asked, looking wildly from Kelsey to John.

"Just answer the question, please," John said.

"Yeah, I will… I just don't want to get him into any more trouble, you know?" Jason said.

"Was he in trouble?" Kelsey asked.

"No," Jason said quickly. "I don't think so, but if he is in trouble and you are looking for him, I’m not going to rat him out or anything, you know?"

"You won’t comply with law enforcement?" John asked. "Is that what you are telling us? Because if you lie to us and we find out, then you go to jail."

Jason looked at John with wide eyes, trying to figure out the best course of action.

"Neil was found dead this morning," Kelsey informed him.

She thought it might sober him up a little, but while it shocked him, he still looked as discombobulated as ever.

"Dead?" Jason muttered.

"So, if he was in any trouble, I want to know about it," Kelsey pushed.

"No, he wasn’t in trouble," Jason said. "At least, I don't think he was. He was just fired from his job, but he hated that job anyway."

"Where did he work?" Kelsey asked.

"Al’s Diner," he replied. Jason picked up his coffee from the floor and took another drink, forgetting how scalding hot it was. He screwed up his face again.

Kelsey wrote the name of the diner in her notebook.

"He had come into some money recently, but he didn't tell us where he got it from," Jason continued.

"How much money?" John asked.

"I don't know. Not enough to be rich or anything, but enough to buy us a few rounds at the pub last night."

Kelsey shifted in her chair. "You were at the pub with him last night?"

"Yeah, me, Neil, and a couple of the lads. He was buying us drinks all night. Like, not loads of drinks. I think he bought us a couple of pints each, and we drink pretty slowly when we are out because of the prices being what they are. I always keep some cans here so I can drink at home."

"What time did you last see him?" Kelsey asked.

"Must have been around 11 pm."

"And do you know where he went after the pub?" Kelsey continued.

"He would have gone home."

Kelsey pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the map app. She waited for it to load before going over and crouching by Jason. "Can you show me where the pub and his house are on the map?"

"Yeah, sure." Jason pinched the map to zoom in. "Not a house, but an apartment kind of like this. So here"—he pointed to a spot on the map—"is where the pub is, and here is where his apartment is."

Kelsey took the phone back to her chair. "I’ll need the addresses of both from you." She tapped the screen a couple of times and brought up the suggested route between the two places. "This confirms it. Someone got to him on his route home."

"Wait, let me see," Jason said.

Kelsey turned the phone and held it closer to Jason.

"Nah, that’s not his route home. I mean, he could take that way home, but he never did. See this street here?" He pointed to the map again, and Kelsey craned her neck so she could see the screen as well. "It’s a dead end on the map, but the fence hasn’t been there for a long time. That was always the way he went home—it was much quicker. He never went that other route."

Kelsey looked at John. "It could be he chose that route last night, or maybe there was something down his usual route he didn't like. He deviated from his usual routine to go that way, but why?"

"That’s the question," John agreed.

"Anything else you can tell us? Was there anyone who didn't like Neil?" Kelsey asked.

"Not like mortal enemies or anything, but Neil could annoy people. Some arguments in the pub sometimes, but never anything that would lead to him being killed. There was this one guy." Jason furrowed his brow as he tried to remember the name.

"Who?" John asked.

Jason sighed and closed his eyes tight for a second before opening them. "Lucas, maybe? It could be Lance. I don't remember exactly, but he did work at the library. Neil went there a lot, he liked to read. Anyway, there was a guy who worked there, an older guy, and Neil liked to flirt with pretty much anyone. Guys, girls, whatever, right? It was just a bit of fun for him and nothing serious. So, he got some books—I don't know the exact story, I’m just telling you what Neil told me—but he got some books, and he might have flirted with this guy a little, and it was like an innocent thing, but this guy started coming on all strong—like way too strong. Neil tried to put things straight, so to speak, and when he left, he thought was the end of it, and the guy had got the message.

"Well, it wasn’t the end of it. You see, Neil said that this guy started following him. It did not matter where Neil went; this guy was there. Neil said the guy wanted to be more than just friends if you know what I mean."

"What did Neil do?" Kelsey asked.

"I think he spoke to him once and basically told him to fu—to leave him alone."

"Did he?" John asked.

"No. He didn't try to interact with him or anything, but Neil said he kept seeing him everywhere and that he thought the guy was following him," Jason replied.

Kelsey nodded and then looked at John. "Let’s pay the library a visit."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kelsey couldn’t remember the last time she had been in a library. She had visited the one in Quantico before and at the academy, but they were different and more official in some way. The smell of the public library brought her back to her childhood. She and Erica had visited libraries a lot when they were kids, taking out stacks of picture books to read together.

She went straight to the reception desk and spoke to the old woman sitting behind it.

"Good afternoon, my dear," the old woman said. "What can I help you with today?"

"I’m looking for someone." Kelsey took out her badge and showed it to the librarian. "One of your employees. Lance or Lucas?"

"Oh, Lucas, yes," she said.

"Is he here today?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, but not until later." She looked up at the clock. "He will be here in a little over two hours. What do you want with him?"

"We’d just like to talk to him," Kelsey replied.

The old woman looked over at John, who was lingering by the large noticeboard near the main entrance.

"Is he in trouble?" The old woman looked genuinely worried.

"Nothing to worry about," Kelsey assured.

She left some silence for the woman to feel if there was anything she wanted to say about Lucas. Kelsey found it to be a good tactic when fishing for information—be silent, and the other person often found a reason to talk. When the librarian didn't add anything, Kelsey picked up the conversation.

"Do you have a full name and an address for Lucas?" Kelsey asked.

The old woman looked a little nervous. "I’m not sure if I’m allowed to give that information out, am I?"

"I can come back with a warrant, but no one wants that," Kelsey said softly. "You won’t get into any trouble for telling us. We can find it ourselves, but you can save us some time, which would really help."

"Okay, yes, sure," the librarian said. "He’s a nice man, really." She pulled open some drawers under the desk and flicked through some small files. She pulled one out. "Lucas Graham, 35 Windslow Crescent. Do you need his date of birth?"

"That won’t be necessary," Kelsey said. "Thank you for your help." She turned to leave, but a thought struck her now that she was in a library, a source of great information. "Do you have any books about prairie roses?"

"Oh, yes, we do. I can't let you check it out without a membership, though."

"I don't have one," Kelsey said.

"All I need is something with your address on it, and then we can get you set up," the librarian said.

"I don't know if I have anything, and I’m not local. Do you know what, it doesn’t matter all that much, I can—"

"Take this," the librarian said, handing Kelsey a postcard. "Write down your address as if you were about to mail it, and then we will have something with your address on it."

Kelsey smiled and filled out the postcard, handing it back to the librarian.

"Perfect. I can fill out your form later, but let me check that we have the book in right now. Give me a moment." The librarian tapped at the keyboard, the key clicking and clacking. "Yes, it should be on the shelf. Give me a second, and I will get it for you."

"Thank you," Kelsey said.

The librarian left to find the book. John waved Kelsey over to look at something on the notice board by the door.

Your Team!

Under the colored Comic Sans lettering were pictures of all the library staff.

John placed his finger on one of the pictures. "Is this our guy?"

The man had unkempt sandy hair and wore glasses. He was one of the few staff who were not smiling in his photo. Underneath, a name was printed: Lucas Graham.

"Yeah, that’s him," Kelsey said. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of him.

"Here you go," the librarian said. She handed Kelsey a book about prairie roses. "And yes, that is Lucas. You two must be alike."

"Alike?" Kelsey asked. "What do you mean?"

"That is one of his favorite books to check out."

***

There was no answer at Lucas Graham’s address when they knocked on his door, so Kelsey and Graham went to Al’s Diner to follow up before circling back to the library. Kelsey trusted the librarian, so she wasn’t worried Lucas had been tipped off they were looking for him.

"I don't know about you, but we might as well get some food to go while we are here," John said.

Kelsey was about to argue that they had eaten not long ago, but as soon as the aromas hit her nose, her stomach grumbled.

"You order us some food, and I’ll talk to the manager," Kelsey said.

They both went to the front counter and waited behind one person before they stepped up.

"Is the manager or owner here?" Kelsey asked, showing her badge. She did not like to be forceful with flashing her badge, especially in small businesses where reputation was everything.

"Yeah, he’s here," the young woman said. She turned and shouted, "He, Al! Someone here to see you." She turned back to Kelsey and smiled pleasantly.

Kelsey stepped to the side, and John stepped up to order food for them. A few seconds later, Al stepped out form the back, and the woman taking John’s order gestured toward Kelsey.

Al walked toward her, wiping his hands on the front of his apron. "What can I do for you?"

Kelsey showed him her badge. "I want to talk to you about one of your ex-employees. A man by the name of Neil Saunders."

Al frowned and shook his head. He was balding and wore a hair net. He was the owner and one of the cooks. "I fired him a week ago."

"Can I ask why?"

"Because he’s a thief. Caught him skimming money from the tip jar. I wouldn’t have minded it so much if he were just taking from me, but a lot of my staff rely on their tips to pay their bills. One of my supervisors caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak, and when I checked the CCTV, I found him doing it on two other occasions."

"How did he take it?" Kelsey asked.

"As well as could be expected. He didn't have a leg to stand on, and he couldn’t deny it. He didn't beg for a second chance or complain about losing his job. He just upped and walked out. I hoped he might give the money back, but I won’t recover that ever."

Especially not with him being dead.

"How was he with the customers?" Kelsey asked.

"He was good. That’s why it was such a shame that I had to can his ass. He made people laugh, and he had that sort of banter that was right on the line of being offensive, but most of the locals who come in here lap that stuff up. Everyone is replaceable, though, right?"

"Yeah," Kelsey agreed. "Do you know of anyone who held a grudge against him?"

"Just me and most of the staff here. They all knew what he did, so I expect he’ll hear from one of them at some point. It’s a small town."

"It is a small town," Kelsey agreed. "I only need to trouble you with one more thing. Could I have an employee list?"

***

Kelsey and John left Al’s diner—the employee list obtained. They took a walk as they ate or as John mostly ate.

John bit into the large juicy burger, the grease oozing out the other side. It looked both delicious and extremely messy. Kelsey was happy to have the fries on the side. She dipped them one by one in the ketchup John had squirted into the lid of his burger container.

"Do you think one of the employees had a vendetta?" John asked.

"They would have been pissed off about Neil stealing tips, but enough to kill him over? Nah, I can't see it. You see him in the street and confront him, but you don't slam his head into a wall and strangle him. Besides, we have two other bodies, and they didn't steal tips."

"No, but Tessa Jameson was accused of shoplifting. Two of the suspects were thieves. What if Carly was, too, and they all stole from the same person?"

"Could be," Kelsey said.

Kelsey had a fry halfway to her mouth when a familiar face jogged past. She turned to watch him. The man slowed as he approached the diner and bent down to pretend to tie his shoe. When he stood back up, he peered in through the window—either checking the menu or trying to see if someone was inside.

Kelsey dropped the fry and pulled out her phone, striding back toward the diner. She checked the picture.

"Lucas Graham," Kelsey informed John over her shoulder.

Lucas looked back the way he had come to see Kelsey coming toward him. He froze for a second before he took off running. He crossed the street, one car slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting him.

Kelsey took off running after him. She held up her hand to warn approaching vehicles, and she crossed through traffic, too, then entered the park on the other side of the street.

"Lucas Graham!" Kelsey shouted when she was close enough. "Stop! We need to speak to you!"

She couldn’t be sure if he couldn’t hear her or chose to ignore her. She quickened her pace again and drew up alongside him, grabbing his arm. Lucas looked at her, and his eyes widened. He shrugged her hand from his arm and diverted to the side toward the small grove of trees.

He sprinted as if his life depended on it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kelsey felt the determination course through her body. She dug her feet into the ground and took off after him. She was often underestimated as a female FBI agent, but she had left most of the men in her dust in her time at the academy. From Lucas’s suspected top speed, she had no doubt she would catch up to him.

When she was not far from him, she felt a presence just behind her and knew that John had caught up. She would have tackled Lucas by herself but felt safer having John with her. The two of them would subdue him easily.

Lucas had his sandy hair held in place by an elastic fabric band around his head, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but he was easily recognizable. He had a few years on Kelsey, but he was still fast.

Kelsey reached out and grabbed for his arm. She fumbled at him, not grabbing him but doing enough to knock him slightly off balance and slow him. John pulled him back by the shoulder, and Kelsey took his arm when he slowed enough.

"FBI," she said, catching her breath. "Lucas Graham, you are under arrest."

"What are you doing? I didn't do it? I was already cleared of it," Lucas claimed.

Kelsey read him his rights while John put the cuffs on.

"What did you not do, Lucas?" John asked. "Why did you run?"

"I know my rights, and I want a lawyer before I speak with anyone," Lucas said.

"You could save us all some time by telling us why you did it," John said forcefully.

Kesley took another breath as she cleared her head after the run. "You said you were cleared of it. What were you cleared of, Lucas?"

Lucas panted as he caught his breath, too, and he looked down at his feet. For a moment, it looked like he would wait for his lawyer before talking, but then he looked up at Kelsey. "I never touched her, and she was never in any danger of that. She only said what she said because her friends made her."

"What are you talking about?" John asked. "Who didn't you touch?"

Lucas looked disgusted that they were there and he was in cuffs. "Who sent you? Her parents? Did they claim they had more evidence, or was it someone else this time? You know they just do this to mess with me, and it’s a complete waste of time."

Kelsey pointed to the small wooden picnic table in the middle of the trees. "Just sit down a moment." She made a decision that she hoped would earn Lucas’s trust. "John, take the handcuffs off for now." When he looked at her, she added, "He’s not a threat. He knows we can catch him if he tries to run again."

John didn't like it, but he did as Kelsey asked. Lucas made a big show of rubbing his wrists as if he had been incarcerated for years. John remained standing as Kelsey faced the suspect across the table.

"Why do you think we are here, Lucas?" Kelsey asked.

They were in the middle of the town but surrounded by trees. They were cut off from the world, and it felt like a nice day out in nature. Kelsey had never had a more tranquil integration.

Let’s hope it remains tranquil.

"This is connected to Maria Fernandez, isn’t it?" Lucas asked.

"Tell us what happened with Maria," Kelsey suggested. She didn't know if this was connected to their case, but she wanted to know what drove Lucas Graham.

"She came into the library every day after school, and she would sit quietly in the corner and study or sometimes read, and I spoke to her, but I speak to everyone who comes into the library, so that’s not unusual. Anyway, one thing led to another and…"

John placed his hand on his head, his face reddening as the anger grew. He turned on the spot to face away.

"Go on," Kelsey urged.

"She mentioned she was having trouble in math, and I have always been good with numbers, so I offered her my help. That’s all it was, and I wish I hadn’t offered any help, but I suppose that’s what you get when you are nice to people." Lucas placed his hands down on the table as if he were worried he would do something stupid with them. "Look, I get it! She was fifteen, and attractive, and shy, and someone might take advantage of her, but I didn’t. I helped her with her math homework, and I was her friend."

"Friend?" John asked with derision.

"Yeah, I was her friend. I don't expect you to believe me or anything, and I know it is weird because she was a kid, but why does that matter? I wasn’t her friend in the way that we would go to the movies together or hang out outside of the library. I spoke to her when she came in, and that was the end of it."

"What happened?" Kelsey asked. "Why did that stop, Lucas?"

"I don't know if her friends saw us in the library or if she told them, but they started teasing her, and I gave her one hug because she came in crying. I consoled her, and one of her friends saw that, and they called the police. When the police spoke to her, she agreed that I had been the one to grab her and hug her, and it all got twisted. But I was acquitted. There was no evidence I had done anything because I didn't do anything. I am an innocent man, but in the eyes of the town, I’m guilty and always will be."

"Why did you run?" Kelsey asked. "If you thought we were the police, why did you run from us?"

"I didn't know you were the police until you caught up with me. I ran because I thought you were a parent or someone coming to harass me. I’m sick of people tripping me on the street or pushing me or shouting names at me, and running is about the only thing that keeps me sane. They say you can't run from your problems, but you can if you are fast enough."

Kelsey sighed and then looked up at John. He returned a look that said, I’m not sure if I believe him or not.

It didn't matter if they believed him or not about that case; it only mattered what they believed about the Neil Saunders case. Kelsey held his gaze, giving him the room to speak some more, but he had told them everything about the case or everything he wanted to tell them.

"What do you know about Neil Saunders?" Kelsey asked.

"Who?"

Kelsey took a photo from her bag and showed it to him. Neil looked so alive, partly because he was alive in the picture they had received from Jason Cooper but also because the shock of bright red hair made the picture come alive.

"Yeah, I remember him. He would come into the library a lot."

"Not recently?" Kelsey asked.

"No, not for a while, but I have seen him outside of the library a few times."

"What was your interaction with him in the library?" Kelsey asked.

Cooper looked down at the table as if he were embarrassed. Kelsey saw he was trying to work out what he should tell them.

"I only got caught up in it because I’ve been so lonely lately," Lucas said.

"Lonely? What happened with Neil?" John asked, sitting on the edge of the bench beside Lucas.

John obviously frightened the suspect, and Kelsey might have told John to back off with most other suspects, but Lucas had been in a situation like this before, and he had come out of it by telling the truth (if he was to be believed). Kelsey felt that John's immediate presence would help Lucas tell the truth in this instance.

"Neil?" John reminded Lucas.

"He, uh, came in and was very nice to me. Always very nice to me. And then he started flirting with me, and I thought, oh, good; someone who doesn’t know about my past. And I know he is really young, but he was cute, and I thought there was something more. So, I flirted back a little, and this kind of went back and forth, and then I saw him on the street one day, and I approached him and said hi and, you know, flirted a bit more, and there was just something off about him.

"This happened again about a week after, and that time, he told me to stay away from him. I didn’t know what he was talking about, so I followed him down the street and grabbed his arm and asked for an explanation. He didn't like that, and he started shouting at me. Calling me a creep and a dirty old man and saying that he had seen me following him when I was out running. I never followed him once! Well, maybe there was one time I jogged on the other side of the street from him while I worked up the courage to go over and talk to him, but that was it. Then, I didn't really see him again after that."

John looked at Kelsey and he looked unconvinced. Kelsey was not sure. She felt there was more that he was not telling them, but that could be about the previous case and not this one.

"Where were you last night?" John asked.

"At home," Lucas replied.

"By yourself?"

"No, I have a roommate. He was there, too."

"Did you leave the house during the night at any time?" John continued.

"No, why would I?"

John looked at Kelsey again.

"Lucas, I’d like you to come to the station to give a formal statement, and we will need to talk to your housemate. I will not put the handcuffs back on you, but I can if you are going to cause problems. If everything checks out, you will be free to go."

"What is this about?" Lucas asked.

"Neil Saunders was found dead this morning," Kelsey replied.

Lucas gasped and placed his hand over his mouth. "Dead," he said through his fingers. "What happened?" He moved his hands down to his heart, and it reminded Kelsey of the death pose.

It also reminded her of the book.

She pulled the prairie rose library book from her bag and placed it on the table. "I got this from the library. I was told you check it out a lot. Why is that, Lucas?"

Lucas looked down at the book and then back at Kelsey. "No, it’s not for me; it’s for a friend. He likes to live off the grid. I can give you his name and address."

"Someone who lives off the grid?" John asked. "Doesn’t want to be found or tracked down? I’d like to pay that person a visit."

"Let’s take Lucas in, and that’s where we go next," Kelsey said.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Hello?" Kelsey said into the phone. "Yes, Kelsey Hawk. I just want to talk to my sister and make sure she is okay."

"And what was her name?" the woman on the other end asked.

"Erica Hawk," Kelsey replied. "I’ve been passed around and passed around."

Kelsey had a sinking feeling that they had transferred her sister elsewhere while she had been away, even if she hadn’t been away for long.

"Let me put you on hold and check," the woman said.

"No, please don't put me on hold," Kelsey begged. She growled and hit the button for the speakerphone. Quiet jazz began to play.

"You okay?" John asked as he drove them to the address Lucas Graham had given them.

"No, I don't know if I am," Kelsey said. "I know we haven’t been away for that long, but it feels like an eternity away from my sister. I need to be there with her."

"Let’s see where we are with this guy, and then what about you heading back to Winchburgh for at least the night?" John asked. "I can move the investigation forward here, and I’ll send you everything. Unless you think there will be another body."

"I don't know what I think," Kelsey admitted. "Three people dead in less than a week. Yeah, I am expecting another body, but maybe there won’t be one for a while. We know the murders are connected because of the prairie rose, but what else do we know? Two victims are local to Rochford, and one is not unless there is a connection with Carly. Two of the victims were petty thieves, or we believe them to be. The third wasn’t known as a thief, but she was promiscuous. Does that make a connection? Is the killer invested in state pride? He uses the prairie rose because it is the state flower, and he wants to make a point. He wants to rid the world of people who are not fit to live in the state. If that’s the case, then he might not kill until he finds someone else who is not worthy of living here, but what if he is actively out finding these people? Maybe he’s out in the community somewhere looking for people."

"Your guess is better than mine," John said.

"Hello?" came from the phone.

Kelsey picked it up and pressed the speakerphone button again to turn it off.

Hello, this is Kelsey Hawk. I’m calling about—"

"Erica Hawk, yeah. This is Frederica Wick."

"Nurse Wick," Kelsey said, recognizing the voice. "Where is my sister? What have they done with her?"

"Don't worry, your sister is fine," Nurse Wick said. "She’s sleeping right now, and she’s not had an episode since you left. There’s nothing to worry about. I can wake her if you would like to speak to her."

"No, that’s fine," Kelsey said. "I’m sorry for panicking. The others must have thought I was crazy to be such a mess, but I can't lose her again. She was taken from me, and I can't have that… I’m sorry, you don't need to hear all this."

"Your sister is fine, and I won’t let anything happen without your consent, okay?" Nurse Wick said.

Kelsey took a deep breath. "Okay." She hung up.

"All good?" John asked.

"Yeah, all good," she replied, relieved.

John pulled the truck to a stop at the end of a gravel road. A small wood cabin stood between the trees, smoke coming from the top.

"Looks like someone is home," John said.

Kelsey grabbed his arm before he could get out of the truck. "If this leads to nothing, maybe I will go home for the night and see Erica. I want her to know that I’m coming back."

"Good," John said. He smiled at Kelsey before exiting the truck.

She got out the other side, and they had only gone a couple of steps before they heard a gun cock. Kelsey’s instinct was to go for her gun, but she didn't in case it gave the owner of the gun a reason to shoot. She didn't put her hands up either in case the owner of the gun gave her a reason to go for her gun.

The man stepped out from behind the shed to the side of the house and pointed the shotgun at John. It was a pretty safe bet they were face-to-face with Ethan Moore.

"Police," John said, raising his hands.

Kelsey remained still, ready to leap into action.

"Yeah, and I don't care. This is private property, and you have no reason just to show up here," Ethan said.

Ethan didn't look all that old. He had the lean and intense look of someone who was living off the land, and he had grown out his hair, both on his head and face. The hair was long, but it had a neatness to it.

"Ethan!" Kelsey called. "It doesn’t matter if this is private land or not; you can't point a shotgun at anyone who comes up here, let alone two police officers."

"Yeah, and why not?" Ethan asked.

"For a start, it’s an accident waiting to happen," Kelsey said. "I presume the gun is loaded. And secondly, you’re going to run into someone who gets spooked by the sight of your gun, and they will fire first."

"I’m a good shot," Ethan said.

"Are you quick enough to take us both down before I shoot you?" Kelsey asked.

Ethan moved to the side to keep both of them in his sights. "I will need to see some ID."

"Lower your weapon, and we will gladly show you ID," Kelsey said.

"Yeah, as soon as I lower my gun, you’ll shoot me. Is that it?"

"Why do you think we are up here?" Kelsey asked, irritated by the man.

John stepped forward, and Ethan quickly stepped back, keeping the gun trained on him.

"I’ll show you my ID," John said calmly. "Keep the gun pointed at me if you like, but you can see where my gun is holstered under my left arm, and you can watch me reach for my badge in my right pocket."

John slowly retrieved the badge from his pocket, letting it unfold for Ethan to see. Ethan had to take a couple of steps forward to see the badge properly, and when he did, he lowered the gun.

"What do you want?" Ethan asked.

"We could have you arrested," Kelsey said. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was? Let’s go inside, and if you don't satisfy us with answers to our questions, I will arrest you."

"Let’s just go inside," John interjected, holding his hands up. "There’s no need for anyone to be arrested just yet."

Ethan considered it, and he didn't look as if he would be told what to do by anyone. He turned and headed back toward the house, and John and Kelsey took that as an invitation.

The house was rustic and minimalist. Most of the interior was empty, but one room had some equipment. Kelsey thought at first glance that he was running an illegal still making spirits or processing cannabis, but the equipment looked far too scientific for that.

The place really was off the grid. There didn't even look to be a generator for emergency power. Oil lamps and used candles dotted the walls, and a pile of wood at the back of the house was used in the stove. Kelsey didn't notice any way to chill food to keep it fresh. She was partially intrigued by his life, but there were more important things to discuss.

"Your friend Lucas Graham sent us up here," Kelsey said.

Ethan placed his gun in the corner by the back door and picked up a glass of liquid, draining it. "How is Lucas doing?" He didn't offer either of his guests drink or food.

"It doesn’t matter how he is doing," Kelsey stated. "He sent us up here because of this book." Kelsey took the prairie rose book out of her bag. "He informed us you check it out of the library a lot under his name."

"Yeah, and is that a crime?" Ethan asked.

"No, it’s not a crime," John confirmed. "Why do you check the book out so much? What’s your interest in prairie roses?"

"I have an interest in many things," Ethan replied.

"Stop dodging and answer the question," Kelsey commanded.

"I mean, I have an interest in many flowers," Ethan corrected. "I’m something of an amateur botanist. That’s why. I have all of that equipment in there. I noticed you couldn’t take your eyes off of it."

"What does your equipment do?" Kelsey asked.

"I could explain it to you, but I don't think we have the time, and I don't think you or your friend have the intelligence or training."

Kelsey snorted.

"I said intelligence or training," Ethan offered with a smile. "I don't know what you might understand, and if you are cops, then you are unlikely to be trained in biology, right?"

"So, why is there an interest in prairie roses?" Kelsey asked.

"They are beautiful," Ethan replied. "They grow out in the wild in the most inhospitable climates, and they thrive."

"Just like you?" Kelsey suggested.

Ethan smiled. "Just like me. Come with me if you want to know what I have been doing. You can see my trials and tribulations."

The way he said it caused Kelsey to be put on edge.

Ethan walked back toward the equipment, and Kelsey followed him. He had left his gun by the door, and she and John still had theirs. Ethan stopped at the door and gestured for Kelsey to enter. Ethan was either very weird or very dangerous. Either way, she had to see what was in the room.

Kelsey poked her head into the room and saw what he wanted her to see.

"Did you grow these?" Kelsey asked.

Along the inside wall, there were pots with prairie roses of different colors. They had been annoyingly arranged in a random pattern when arranging them in a rainbow of colors would have been easy.

"These are the ones that will lead me to my ultimate goal. I have not yet been able to change the color by manipulating the pH, nitrogen, and nutrients of the soil, but I have been able to introduce natural dyes into the soil to change the color of the roses. I hope by studying the results, I can reproduce them without the dyes."

"Why?" Kelsey asked. "What’s the end goal?"

"Why not?" Ethan replied. "And why does there need to be an end goal? I want to create more beauty in the world. I am not doing this for any grand reason other than my own amusement. If I can control the colors of the flora around my home, I can become a very small and very inconsequential deity."

Kelsey studied the flowers for a moment before she turned back to Ethan. "If I were to ask you to give us an alibi for any day over this past week, would you be able to do that?"

"No, probably not. Unless you can talk to some of the animals around here," Ethan said.

Kelsey nodded and took another look at the equipment. She looked at John. He widened his eyes and looked at Ethan.

"I would like a formal statement from you, but you don't strike me as the kind of person who will want someone else coming to your home. Besides, I don't want to put anyone in danger. So, I would like to propose a deal," Kelsey offered.

"I’m listening," Ethan said.

"I want you to go to the local police station in the next twenty-four hours and give a formal statement recounting everything you have asked me and answering any additional questions we might have. They will be expecting you. In return, I won't arrest you right now and haul you down there myself for pointing a gun at us. If I have to do that, I might even throw in a free twenty-four detention at the station. So, what do you say?"

"I’m inclined to say no, but I get the impression you’ll stop pestering me if I agree. You have yourself a deal," Ethan replied.

Ethan held out his hand, and Kelsey hesitated but shook it. When Kelsey and John left, Ethan didn't show them out, but he did watch them from his window.

"Not the guy?" John asked.

"I don't think so. He is fascinated with prairie roses, but none are the same color as the ones given to the victims. If this were about putting on a show, he would have used the roses he created."

"He creeps me the heck out," John noted.

"Yeah, me too," Kelsey said.

They both got back in the truck and headed back toward town. When they were closer, Kelsey’s phone rang after receiving a signal again.

Sheriff Anderson.

"Sheriff?" Kelsey asked.

"Hawk, where are you?"

"We are heading back to Richford after talking to a suspect," Kelsey replied.

"Any idea when you will be back?"

Kelsey heard the guilt in his voice again. "What’s going on, Sheriff."

"I’m not pulling anything on you this time, but there is another FBI agent here, and he won't give me his name. He said he needs to talk to you."

Kelsey tried to remember if Sheriff Anderson had met SAC Granger, but she couldn’t recall. She didn't think he would turn up in Winchburgh to talk to her, but stranger things had happened. Kelsey had planned on going back anyway, and this gave her extra motivation.

"I’ll be back tonight," she said.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lucy Hollis bent down by the bed, and she felt her denim hot pants slide down her rear a little to reveal a little more than she would have liked, but she didn't care because there was no one in the room to ogle the slight amount of her flesh behind that was on show. The denim hot pants and the white tank felt like appropriate work attire.

She picked up the hammer, gripping it tightly near the bottom, and held the wooden section with her other hand. The nail was sticking out from where she had started to hammer it in—it had taken a few minutes to get the hang of it, but she had managed it in the end.

Lucy lined up the two wooden pieces and swung the hammer. She found it was a minor miracle that she didn't hit her thumb this time.

"Hey, shut up in there!" the guest in the room on the other side of the wall shouted.

"You shut up in there!" Lucy called back.

She ignored the man and kept going—it took less than four minutes to get the nail through the wood and into the other piece.

"Hey!" the man shouted, banging his fist on the wall.

Lucy ignored him again. She added a second nail and then a third.

The pounding came at her door this time—five loud knocks as he shook the door with his fists.

"Go away!" Lucy shouted.

"Open the door!" the man demanded.

"Yeah, right," Lucy said. "You're not getting in my room. I know what you want."

"I want you to quiet the heck down so I can watch TV," the man called.

"Yeah, and I want you to stay the heck out of my business! If you leave me alone, I’ll have this done quicker."

"What are you doing in there?" the man demanded. "I’m calling the manager."

"Yeah, I tried that!" Lucy shouted. "Go call him, and maybe he can get off his fat ass for once. Leave me alone."

She could see the man’s shadow under the door, but he moved a minute later, and she heard his door close. Lucy hammered in the last of the nails and sat on the dirty floor of her room, listening to see if her neighbor would be more trouble. She heard the faint sound of his TV, but he didn't say anything more.

Lucy stood up and admired her handiwork: the two pieces of wood were not exactly lined up, and a nail was only half in and bent over, but it was adequate.

Lucy grabbed the bottle from the middle of the ice in the ice bucket and took a large swig, draining a third. It was the cheapest beer she could find at the liquor store; the cheapest beer always tasted the best. She thrust it back into the bucket of ice and picked up the remote.

The TV clicked into life, and she flipped through the channels until she found one playing a music video.

She sang along but was not overly familiar with the music, so the words came out a garbled mess of sounds that were in time with the music but unintelligible. Lucy smiled when she moved side to side with the music. The bed did not creak. The motel manager had assured her the bed would be fixed in two days, and that was a week ago. She was pretty sure he had a thing for her, so it was probably better that she didn’t need him to come into her room anymore.

To celebrate, she cranked the music up as loud as it would go, knowing it would annoy her neighbor.

A sharp knocking came from the wall behind her. "Hey, shut up in there!" the muffled sound came through the wall.

"Why don't you shut the hell up!" Lucy shouted back. She pounded her fist on the wall twice for good measure.

Lucy smiled and turned the volume down again. She dropped the remote to the bed and went to the window. She looked out, checking the cars in the parking lot before she closed the curtains.

Lucy switched channels and watched some reruns of old sitcoms. It became dark outside—after eleven. She was hungry with nothing to eat. Lucy got up from the bed, opened the door, and pulled the metal latch across to stop it from locking behind her. She went to the vending machine and popped in three dollars, selecting a bag of chips and another candy bar.

Lucy tapped the glass as she waited for the items to vend. She didn't want to run into the motel manager or the guest next door to her. He would tell her to keep it down, but he liked to leer at her, too, and it became tiring. She grabbed her snacks and went back to her room. She locked the door and hopped back up onto the bed, ripping the bag of chips open.

***

Lucy woke with a start. She stared up at the ceiling, focusing all her energy on trying to work out what had woken her. The faintest scratching came from under her bed. The curtains were thin, and the moon bold and bulbous, giving enough light to see fragments of the room. She could see the furniture, the old patterned wallpaper, the plastic light cover above, and the outline of the toilet in the bathroom. The same musty smell was there.

And then, another faint scratch from under the bed. Lucy was terrified of mice, but she had never wished more for there to be one under her bed. She didn't want to turn on the light—for some reason, she felt it might trigger something. When she was younger, she had been scared of monsters under the bed and in the closet. Those monsters were always imaginary.

I should run for the door and not look back!

Don't be stupid. It’s a mouse. Just go back to sleep.

Lucy couldn’t do either. She wouldn’t be able to sleep until she knew, and she didn’t want to fall asleep accidentally without knowing if she was in danger. It took all her courage. Lucy shifted in the bed, extremely glad that the bed did not creak anymore until she got to the edge. She moved slowly again, draping her head over the side and slowly lowering herself until she could see under.

It was darker than the rest of the room. She stared into the darkness, looking for something. There was no more scratching. The darkness didn't get brighter, but she could see through to the dim light on the other side of the bed, and there was a shape under her bed.

Lucy’s heart stopped. She looked into eyes—weird, misshapen, unnatural eyes. She was frozen to the spot, unable to do anything about her impending death, and—

Lucy almost burst out laughing when she realized the outline was the shoes she had kicked under there earlier. When she realized that, the eyes she had imagined disappeared and she could make sense out of the shapes. She let out a breath of relief. It had been a mouse, after all, and it was likely hiding in her shoes, but she didn't care. She would slap the shoes around in the morning to ensure the mouse had vacated its temporary home.

The muted swooshing sound stopped her heart once more. She didn't have to listen out for it again. She knew exactly what it was. She could see where it had come from. Lucy stared under the bed and through to the other side, transfixed on the closet. The door had been closed when she had got into bed, but it was not closed now. Someone had just opened it.

And that someone stepped out of the closet and into her motel room.

Lucy tried to scream, but all that came out was another gasp. She flipped her body so she was back on her bed again and could see the figure striding towards her. She put her hands up before her to try and stop them.

"Who are you?" she whimpered.

There was no response. A hand shot out and pushed between her arms, grabbing her by the neck and throttling her.

Nothing came for Lucy. No life flashed before her eyes, no memories, no regrets or wishes—nothing came except death.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kelsey walked into the Sheriff’s Office. The last time she had walked in, she had been arrested. The feeling wasn’t the same this time, though she had the exact same view of Sheriff Anderson.

Sheriff Anderson saw her immediately, and he stood up. He had a different look of guilt than he had the last time she walked in. He didn't leave his office and waited for her to come to him. Kelsey did, and she closed the door behind her.

"I didn't get his name, but he told me he would be at Jacob’s Tavern tonight if you wanted to speak with him," Sheriff Anderson said.

Kelsey became more convinced that it was not SAC Granger. Still, she didn't know who it could be. They had not come to arrest her, but that didn't mean they wouldn’t arrest her before they left. Kelsey toyed with the idea of not meeting with the person and hoping they just went away.

"Hawk, I—" Sheriff Anderson started.

Kelsey didn’t let him finish. She rounded the table and grabbed him, taking her in his embrace, and hugging him. Sheriff Anderson froze for a second before he embraced her back.

It felt good to be home. There was something special about John, and Kelsey always felt rooted when she was with her sister (even if it was hard at times), but Sheriff Anderson made Winchburgh feel like home.

Kelsey cried. The more she felt Winchburgh was home, the less she wanted to leave. Yet, as soon as the current case was done, she would have to leave—whether that was voluntarily or not. She couldn’t delay. There was no chance of stalling on the case to extend her time in North Dakota. She would not let the killer stay on the streets a minute longer than necessary.

However, they still had almost nothing on him.

"Are you okay?" Sheriff Anderson finally said when the hug had gone on for a long time.

"I’m sorry," Kelsey said, drawing back and wiping her tears. "I have a lot going on, and it’s eating me up inside. Before you say anything, I want you to know that I don't blame you for any of this. You had no choice in the matter."

"I could have said no," Sheriff Anderson noted.

"You could have, but they still would have got to me, and Winchburgh would have been at a loss without their Sheriff. I was furious with you when I was arrested, but I know it had nothing to do with you."

Sheriff Anderson sighed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He slumped into his chair, and Kelsey did the same on the other side of the desk. The sheriff looked across the desk at her and shook his head with a sad smile.

"They threatened my job," he said. "They didn't come out and say it, but they made it pretty obvious that I wouldn’t be in my current role if I did anything to tip you off to what was happening."

"I heard you were the one who helped get my stay of execution," Kelsey said.

"I don't know entirely. I made some calls, but I don't have a lot of sway when it comes to facing off against the FBI. Maybe I spoke to the right people. I’m just glad you are back here for now. I meant what I said to them. When I heard about the death and the rose in her hands, I knew you would be the only one to get to the bottom of something like that."

"And I will," Kelsey said. Sheriff Anderson always gave her more confidence. "We are making slow progress, but we are getting there."

"How is John doing?" Sheriff Anderson asked. "I know he’s been going through a tough time recently too."

"I think he is doing well with it," Kelsey admitted. "The case is taking all of his attention, but he’ll come through it all. Maybe all the stuff here is why he’s happy to stay out there and coordinate."

"He’s the type of man who needs a good woman to set him straight in life," the sheriff said.

"Why do I get the impression you are talking about me?"

"I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I know you are both going through the mill, but there will be an end to all of this at some point," the sheriff pointed out.

"Yeah, there will be an end," Kelsey agreed.

"So, what does happen when all of this is done?" The Sheriff asked. "John has said some things to me about protecting you."

"I can't run, and I can't hide," Kelsey admitted. "I appreciate that John is looking out for me, but it will only make things worse. No, once the case is solved, I’m going to hand myself in and face the music."

"Does John know of this plan?" the sheriff asked.

"No, and I don't think he needs to until I tell him," Kelsey replied.

***

Kelsey wouldn’t have gone to the bar if her sister had not been sleeping when she had arrived at the hospital. Although, it worried her how much her sister had slept over the past twenty-four hours. So, she found herself in Jacob’s Tavern, wondering if she was about to come face to face with SAC Paul Granger.

She was greeted by a couple of regulars and one of the servers as she entered. Jacob’s Tavern was a local hangout for law enforcement in the area. If it all kicked off between her and Granger, she would have backup. She felt a little safer and more in control of the situation being in that pub over any other in the town.

It wasn’t all that busy, but still busy enough that Kelsey had to look around to find the man she was meeting. She spotted an arm raised in the air, and her entire body relaxed. Kelsey ordered a beer as she passed the bar and made her way to the corner of the building where Special Agent Lucas Garcia waited for her.

"Long time no see," Kelsey said. "I must admit that I didn't expect to see you here."

"I couldn’t give my name out and didn't want to call—no trail. I don't want to lose my job, but I wanted to check up on you. I don't want anyone to know I am here," Lucas said.

"Granger?" Kelsey asked.

"Him especially."

While Kelsey was relieved it was Lucas and not Granger; she was still guarded. She had a long memory, and not many people had turned up in town from her past without it being to deliver bad news. She had never been close friends with Agent Garcia, but they got on well enough. He had been on her side enough to be her contact in the main offices. He had put his job on the line in the past to feed her information that had helped with cases.

Kelsey thought about it. Of everyone working for the FBI, Lucas was probably the closest she had to a friend.

She slid into the seat on the opposite side of the booth, and when the beer came, it was the most delicious thing she had tasted over the past week. The cold, crisp, fresh beer slid triumphantly down her throat and hit the spot.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Kelsey asked.

"I wanted to give you a heads up and see where you stand in all of this," Lucas replied.

"You mean my impending arrest?" Kelsey asked.

"It’s not official, but everyone is talking about it. Some wild speculation, of course, but nothing through the official channels, which means they want to keep it hushed up."

Kelsey considered Lucas might be there to gather intel rather than feed her some, but she had nothing to hide, and she did trust him.

"I won’t do anything rash. I have a last case to work on, and then I’m coming in. I don't know if that is smart or stupid, but it feels like the right thing to do," Kelsey said.

"You have SAC Granger spooked," Lucas noted. "I don't know what you did, but he’s panicking."

"What do you mean?" Kelsey didn't think she had done anything,

"The investigation into the corruption. It is being commissioned by Deputy Director Harper, and he has his team in place, but there is talk that you are involved in some way, and Granger has been listening to a lot of the chat. He believes you are spearheading the investigation with the Deputy Director as retaliation for his investigation into you. That you have some form of immunity because of it. He’s pushing harder like it’s now or never for the investigation. He thinks if he gets you locked up, you’re not a part of the corruption investigation anymore. You pissed him off already, but he’s even more pissed off now. He’s like a bull in a china shop, but your career is the china."

"My life is the china," Kelsey said.

Kelsey could have told him that she had no part in it and that it was all at the behest of the Deputy Director, but if he did feed intel back to Granger, willingly or not, she wanted Granger to be distracted.

"I'm just glad they are finally looking into the corruption," Kelsey said noncommittally.

"Yeah, it’s a good thing," Lucas agreed. "It will ruffle a lot of feathers, but sometimes that needs to happen. I don't know how this plays out, but I get the impression it comes down to who can outlast the other. Stay out of his grip, and maybe he gets fired for corruption. I don't know—I know what he is like, and if he wants to get you, he will."

"My life feels like a constant race against time," Kelsey noted. "I really don't know if I have the energy to outlast him. I definitely don’t have the resources. And I can't dedicate any time with the case I’m working on."

"You’ve never let any of that hold you back before," Lucas noted.

Kelsey raised her glass, and Lucas clinked his against hers.

***

Kelsey went back to the hospital after enjoying a couple of beers with Agent Garcia. He was only in town for the night and would be gone early the next morning. Kelsey was happy to see him, even if he reminded her that she would be leaving town soon to go back to Quantico.

When she got to her sister’s room, she was sleeping. Kelsey sat in the familiar, uncomfortable chair and found that sleep came easily again—nothing to do with the chair and everything to do with being close to her sister.

When Kelsey woke, she thought her phone was vibrating, but it was not. She saw the familiar dull golden light coming in under the curtain that announced the arrival of the morning and the fresh crick in her neck that informed she had slept deeply.

A nurse was in the room—one she had seen before but didn't know the name of. The nurse looked back at Kelsey and smiled. She went about quietly taking Erica’s vitals before she left the room.

Kelsey stretched. She checked her phone and found no messages from John, which both disappointed and liberated her. She then decided to wait for him to contact her. If he hadn’t already, it meant he was on top of everything. As soon as she called him, she would be drawn back in and taken from her sister. If she were to be taken from her sister eventually, Kelsey needed to spend as much time with her as possible.

She sat in the chair and watched Erica, memorizing every millimeter of her features. An hour later, Erica woke up and murmured something.

"I’m here," Kelsey said softly.

"I’m scared. So scared," Erica said.

"You don't have to be scared anymore."

Erica dropped back into sleep, and a while later, she spoke in her sleep, begging someone to stay away from her.

Kelsey nudged her sister’s arm to take her from her bad dream, and it seemed to work. Kelsey went to the cafeteria in the hospital at some point, and Erica woke fully as the afternoon approached.

Erica asked to hear about their parents, and Kelsey told her what she remembered from before they were taken from the world. She told Erica about Winchburgh in the hope that she might want to settle there, which is far from the hustle and bustle of the big city. In return, Erica gave some snippets of the life she remembered as a married woman. Her husband had come to love her and had died for that love. Erica knew she had never loved him—a man she had been forced to marry and live with for over a decade.

It was pleasant—tense but pleasant. They were sisters but felt like strangers in part. Kelsey took it slow, never pushing for more and letting Erica recount what she wanted to recount. At supper time, Kelsey went to the cafeteria and brought back food to eat with Erica. The golden hue returned as day turned to night, and eventually, Kelsey fell back into the warm, painful sleep.

When she woke the next morning, it was her phone vibrating that stirred her from slumber.

John was calling to inform her they had found another body.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kelsey didn't find herself in Richford this time but in one of the neighboring towns. Temple was an hour from Richford, which made it local enough to connect to two of the three previous bodies.

When she pulled up in her car, John was waiting for her. Everyone was waiting for her.

One room in the motel had yellow police tape extending out from each side to draw a square area in front. Most people were milling around, some officers talking to people, but most were waiting for Kelsey to do her thing.

John approached when she walked toward the yellow police tape.

"What do we have?" Kelsey asked.

"Lucy Hollis is the name he gave at the desk when she checked in, but the manager believes she used a fake ID. The ID puts her at thirty-five years old and originally from Seattle. She’s been in the motel for three weeks."

"Same as the others?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes. She was strangled to death, and a prairie rose in her hands. The same color as the others, the thorns stripped from the stem. The only difference with this one is she was not found immediately. They don't turn down the beds every day, especially for long-term guests, and Lucy Hollis had made it clear she didn't want anyone in her room. It was only when the guest next door mentioned to the manager that she had been too quiet that they decided to go in. She was found this morning, but forensics thinks she was killed the night before last."

"Let’s go and take a look," Kelsey said.

They ducked under the police tape and entered the room. The interior hadn’t been updated since the seventies, and the room came with a smell that Kelsey couldn’t pinpoint but knew as a ‘motel’ smell. She was a little impressed. The decor had not been updated in fifty years or more, which meant the motel had survived that long. Not an easy thing to do in the current climate.

She did a quick lap of the room to take everything in before going to bed. With a couple of empty beer bottles, candy, and chip wrappers, the room was not too messy but not pristine either. The beer and snacks were obviously her last meal, but it felt like a meal for one. Kelsey didn't think anyone was in the room with her before her demise, which meant someone had come specifically to kill her.

He entered the room because she trusted him, or he snuck in.

Kelsey looked into the open wardrobe. It fit with the overall messy aesthetic, but she couldn’t help but imagine someone hiding inside the closet and sneaking out to kill Lucy.

She went to the bed to take a look at the body. Lucy was a beautiful woman, even in death. She had long, black hair, a lithe, tight body, and piercing brown eyes that stared up at the ceiling. She wore skinny pajamas: a pair of tight shorts and a tank that showed off her midriff. It would have been tempting for the killer to do more than just kill her, but her body looked untouched.

He comes to kill and nothing more.

It supported the theory she worked on that the killer was trying to rid the world of these people. She didn't know anything about Lucy Hollis yet, but if she had been found because she was being too quiet, then it meant she was usually loud. That could fit with the other deaths: two thieves, promiscuity, and obnoxiousness. Would someone kill over that?

The other details were exactly the same as the other three kills. The same prairie rose in her hands and similar strangulation marks on her neck. Kelsey took a step back.

"You see that?" Kelsey gestured with the toe of her shoe to the corner of the bed where it had been badly repaired.

"Someone did a bad job of fixing the bed," John said. "Fits with everything else around here."

"It does, and it doesn’t," Kelsey said. "I presume they searched the room?"

"They did, and they didn't find much. She’s been here for a while, and she paid in advance for another two weeks. Nothing to show where she came from or where she was going. There’s a car out front that is registered in her name, but nothing was found in there either."

"It’s close enough to be local to Richford," Kelsey noted.

"On that note, we did find a connection with Carly Benson. She has an aunt in Richford, the wife of a paternal uncle who passed away a few years ago. She visited her maybe once every couple of weeks and would help with cleaning and groceries and that type of thing."

"Okay," Kelsey said. "So, we can treat this as local. Three ties to Richford and a fourth victim close enough to visit the town in her time here. Did you find anything else with Carly? Has she stolen from anyone? I don't know about you, but I get the impression from Lucy Hollis that she would be the type of person to steal."

"No, we have not found anything yet. We spoke to the people she worked with, and they pointed us in the direction of some guys she has been intimate with. Apparently, she wasn’t shy about talking about it. Still, nothing that ties her to Tessa or Neil."

"I think this is someone local," Kelsey said. "I know it sounds insane, but most killers are. I think someone in the local community has a lot of pride in their town and the state. Most likely the country, too. We always hear about people not wanting so many immigrants coming in and changing the country, and I think this is the same on a smaller scale. Someone wants to protect the community from those disrupting good old, small-town life. That could be anyone, but it’s likely someone who is connected to all four in some way. Lucy Hollis is not a local and only arrived in town a few weeks ago. She lives here, but she will have visited Richford. She can't have gone that many times, so the people she will have been infected with will be limited. That’s where we start, and then we work back."

"Got it. Who do you want to speak to out there first? The guy in the room next door claims to be the last person to see her before she died. The motel manager is convinced he knows who did it, but he will only talk to whoever is leading the investigation. I think he has some God complex."

"Neighbor first and then the manager," Kelsey said.

They left the room, and John led Kelsey over to a tall, greasy man currently giving his statement to one of the officers at the scene.

"Give us a moment," John said.

"Jimmy Brenton, Special Agent Hawk," John said.

"I hear you were the last person to see Miss Hollis alive," Kelsey said.

"Yeah, probably was," he replied. He looked greasy, and his voice sounded greasy. He didn't have a toothpick in his mouth, but Kelsey imagined he was the type of guy who would chew on one.

"Tell me what you saw," Kelsey said.

"Was the night before last," Jimmy said. "I looked out the window when I heard someone out there and saw her walking to the vending machine. That’s all I saw. I watched her walking back again, and that’s it."

"No one else out there?" Kelsey asked.

"Not that I saw."

Kelsey got a bad feeling from him. The way his eyes shifted as if he thought someone might overhear what he was saying told her he might need to watch what he was saying when speaking about certain things.

"And you remained in the room?" she asked, wondering if he could have snuck out and followed her back. From the way he spoke about her, it was obvious that he both disliked her but was attracted to her.

"Yeah, all night," Jimmy replied.

"Do you have anyone who can verify that?" Kelsey pushed.

"I had a woman, but she’s not the type who wants to be answering questions, if you know what I mean? They charge by the hour type."

"She was in your bed, but you still went to the window to see who was outside?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, what’s wrong with that?"

"Anything else you noticed? Did she seem agitated? When she used the vending machine, did she buy enough for two people?" Kelsey asked.

"Didn't notice anything else other than her out there," he replied. He almost took joy from being vague with the police.

"Thank you for your time," Kelsey said, not all that thankful.

"He’s capable," John pointed out when they were away from him.

"He is physically, but he doesn’t strike me as being intelligent or careful enough. He wouldn’t shack up next door to her. We can check his movements over the past week, but it’s not him. However, I do think someone slipped in when Lucy went to the vending machine. Maybe she left the door open, and someone went into her room and hid in the closet. They kill her as soon as she locks the door, or they wait and kill her when it is late enough to leave without being seen."

Kelsey looked around the small parking lot and at the sides of the building. There were no cameras.

"Archie Brock," Archie said, holding out a hand as Kelsey approached. "I’m the manager here, so ask me anything."

Archie was a large man, more wide than tall, and his oversized t-shirt had sweat at the neck and armpits. His hand was slightly moist as Kelsey shook it.

She tried not to make too much of a show as she wiped it on her pants.

"Mr. Brock, I’m told you know who killed Lucy Hollis," Kelsey said.

Archie nodded and leaned in close as if he were about to take a big revelation. He looked around before he spoke. "Henry Tate."

"Okay, and who is Henry Tate?" Kelsey asked.

"A drifter, a trapper, an all-round psychopath. He goes from town to town, his pack on his back, killing."

"Killing?" Kelsey asked.

"Mostly wild animals, but I’ve heard tales of him at work. He can skin a deer in under ten minutes. They say he once took down a wolf. Stabbed it right in the neck."

"What makes you think it was him?" Kelsey asked.

"He was here last night around nine. Wanted a place to stay, but I turned him around. Don't want that in my motel. It’s not just what he has done but the way he is. I’m not afraid to admit that I got chills looking into his eyes. He has the eyes of a killer. When I told him we were full, he flipped out. Ranted at me and drew his knife. I thought he was going to kill me and skin me alive. He came back and killed her."

Kelsey processed what she had been told, even if it didn't amount to much of anything yet.

"How about you, Mr. Brock?" Kelsey asked. "I presume you have access to any room in the motel."

"I have a master key," he replied, becoming a little defensive.

"You talk about men skinning other men alive, but you could easily have slipped into her room, couldn’t you?" Kelsey asked.

"What?" Archie stammered. "I didn't kill her. I was at the reception desk all night. I have to be there too in case someone rolls in during the night and needs a room."

"Any witnesses that can attest to that?" Kelsey asked.

Archie fell quiet.

"How about the bed in Lucy’s room?" Kelsey asked. "When did you fix it?"

"I didn’t." Archie shrugged. "Hadn’t got around to it yet; always a million things to fix around here."

"So, she fixed it herself," Kelsey noted. "Is there a hardware store in town?"

"Not here. The closest one is Richford."

Kelsey sighed. She gestured with her head for the officer to continue taking his official statement. She turned to John.

"We go back to Richford," she said. "We have another connection. Lucy Hollis visited Samuel Kerr’s hardware store recently. I want to talk to him again. And I want to find out where Henry Tate is."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Stop fussing," Mariah Peters said. She shook her head and stared at the patient lying on the bed.

"You’re hurting me," the old woman said.

Mariah had forgotten the woman’s name, but it was on the chart. If she needed it, she could look there. At the moment, she just needed to get the IV into the woman’s arm so they could take blood and diagnose what ailed her. Mariah could think of a million things the woman might have, going by her attitude.

"This will be over in a second if you just sit still," Mariah told her. She caught sight of her scrubs and the multiple stains covering them. It was embarrassing to look like that, and she could feel the patients judging her because of it. It was the patients who had caused it—a little blood here, some bile there, dirt from a small child.

Mariah took a deep breath and composed herself. She waited until the old woman came and then tried again. The old woman winced as if Mariah had poked her with a red-hot poker, but she finally managed to get the needle into the vein. She quickly stuck the bandaid over to hold the needle in place and then pulled the back off to attach a vial. Mariah drew three vials of blood and then hooked up the IV.

"There, all done," Mariah said, trying to smile.

"Well, yes, thank you, my dear."

Mariah chuckled and patted the woman’s head. It was not her fault. Still, the attitude of some patients got to her at times. She filled out the chart and labeled the blood samples, adding them to the tray. Mariah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she imagined how nice it would be to switch places with the old woman. Perhaps not based on what they might find, but the old woman looked peaceful and rested in the bed.

Mariah felt the complete opposite.

She took the small cart with the samples and left the room.

"Nurse Peters, they need a clean-up in room 208," Dr. Hill said as he strode past.

"Don't they have cleaners for… yeah, just walk away because why would a doctor actually talk to a nurse?"

"Mariah," Rebecca said, taking her arm. "I thought you were done an hour ago."

"Yeah, but I still have stuff to do," Mariah said.

Rebecca pushed some of Mariah’s thick black curls behind her ear and sighed. "Go on home. You look exhausted. What else do you have left to do?"

"I have to deliver these samples, and there is a cleanup in room 208," Mariah said.

"No, go home," Rebecca said. "I’ll take care of that. If you stay any longer, you are only going to get roped into doing more. Go get some sleep. Your family must miss you."

"Three kids can be a lot, but it’s actually quite peaceful after a day here."

"Go, be with them," Rebecca said.

"You are the best." Mariah grabbed Rebecca and hugged her. She didn't know what any of the nurses would do without the support of each other.

As soon as she broke the embrace, Mariah headed straight for the employee area to get changed. There was only one other person in there, another nurse. She looked broken and beaten, too.

"Starting or finishing?" Mariah asked.

"Starting," the nurse said.

She was familiar to Mariah, but she didn't know her name.

"You?" the nurse asked.

"Finishing, thank goodness. It’s been a long day."

"Does it get any better?" the other nurse asked.

"It’s only gotten worse since I’ve been here," Mariah said. "So many cutbacks in the last few years, and we’ve almost halved in size. Ten percent fewer doctors but fifty percent fewer nurses. It makes it really hard. They expect us to do the same amount of work with half the number of people, and it’s not even half the amount of work because we get more patients now than ever before.

"And then I find myself getting annoyed at the patients. When did I become like that? I’m tired and overworked, and I can't take it out on the doctors because then I’ll get reprimanded, and I’m a lot more disposable than them, and I don't want to take it out on my family. So, I find myself snapping at the patients, and I hate myself for it." Mariah paused. "I’m sorry, you don't need to hear all of this."

The other nurse smiled sweetly. "What gets you through it?"

"Just the fact that I know I’m helping. I don't know if I’ll ever feel appreciated, but I know I do good work, and I know lives are saved because of it."

"That’s a pretty good reason," the nurse said.

"Yeah." Mariah pulled off her scrubs and stuffed them into her bag before getting her regular clothes on. She had another set of scrubs at home that she would have brought with her to change into halfway through the day, but they had still been wet that morning. They only gave out two pairs, and it was hard to keep up with washing them.

"Alright, off to see how much the world has changed since I got here."

The young nurse laughed. "I hope it doesn't change too much while I work. I have a pet fish I would like to see again."

It was Mariah’s turn to laugh. She found that really was the best medicine—no matter how bad her life got, she had to laugh, or she would go crazy.

Mariah left the hospital and enjoyed the crispness of the evening air on her cheeks. She waved to a couple of hospital employees entering the building. It was dark, the stars twinkling above, and it had been dark when she had entered the hospital that morning. She took a deep breath. It would be better to be with her three kids and husband at home, but it would still be chaotic. This was the moment: the walk to her car and the drive home was her time. She would have twenty minutes all to herself.

Mariah gave a wry smile as she walked through the parking lot. The patient parking was the closest to the hospital, which made sense, and the employee parking was at the far end of the parking lot. Mariah was a little resentful of that. There had been a time when she was happy and carefree, but the demands and stresses of the hospital had taken their toll. She didn't like who she was becoming, but she couldn’t see a way back.

As she moved from the patient parking lot to the employee one, she looked back. She thought she had heard something. She wasn’t worried. There were lost of people near the hospital. She was in no danger.

Mariah walked ten steps before she heard a small scuffle. Once again, she whirled around, but no one was there. She spun in a circle—there was no one in any direction. The hospital was nothing but a faint murmur now.

She knew it was silly, but she walked quickly to her car in case someone was following her. Her flat shoes slapped the tarmac below, and she reached into her bag to retrieve her keys before she got to the car. She manipulated them with her fingers so the key was ready to slide into the lock when she got there.

Mariah pulled them out, and a figure slammed into her back. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over it. Mariah was pulled from her feet and dragged away. She looked up to see dark eyes looking down at her from beneath a large hood.

She saw only one thing in them: death.

CHAPTER TWENTY

It felt as if Kelsey had been on the go for the past week, even though she had spent a full day and two nights in the hospital room with Erica. The time had been valuable but not restful. She sat in a small makeshift office in the police station in Richford, three local officers assigned to them to help catch the killer.

"What else did I miss while I was away?" Kelsey asked.

"Autopsy results came back from Neil Saunders. As expected, he had alcohol in his system. He suffered blunt force trauma to the back of his head when he hit the wall, but it didn't kill him. It might have stunned him, but they don't think it knocked him out. The blood on the wall suggests he was held there for a while as he was strangled. If knocked out, he would have slumped to the ground, but it looks like he remained upright. His wallet and phone were in his pocket, so he wasn’t robbed. We’ve gone through as much CCTV footage as we could, but there are not many cameras in town. We have him on one camera for a couple of seconds, and he is following the route the map suggested, the longer route home, but there’s no one else in the shot. He’s walking quickly, so maybe he was being followed, or maybe he just wanted to get home. Forensics did find bodily fluid in the alleyway where he was killed."

"Neil’s urine?" Kelsey asked.

John nodded.

"So, we assume he diverted his route because he was being followed, and he stopped to relieve himself in the alley once he thought he was safe. That’s when the killer attacked. When I compare that to the Lucy Hollis murder, I think the killer is being patient. If we were following Neil, he could have taken him at any time, but he waited. I think if Neil hadn’t stopped, he might have gotten home. Maybe the killer has followed him a few times. The same with Lucy Hollis. The killer waited until the door was open before going in. He wants to be subtle, and I think he remains on course until he kills them."

"With the timeframe of the four murders, it’s a safe bet he has already targeted his next victim."

"Yeah, it is," Kelsey agreed.

"As far as everything else is concerned, Lucas Graham’s alibi checks out, and Al from the diner has a solid alibi, too. I’ve had officers follow up with everyone who works there, but it is slow going. Everyone disliked Neil Saunders, but there’s nothing to link any of them to the other murders."

"Yeah, I don't think we find anything there. Whoever this is had interactions with the victims, but he doesn’t live with them or work with them. It’s unlikely he’s a family member. He’s local and knows the lay of the land. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knows him and has no clue he is a killer."

"So, you think Samuel Kerr is our killer?" John asked.

"I think it is suspicious that he interacted with one victim not long before she died and likely sold a hammer and some nails to another."

"Oh, before I forget," John said. "You will be happy to know that our off-the-grid friend, Ethan Moore, came in and gave a formal statement."

"Huh," Kelsey said. "I was fifty-fifty on that one. So, one off-the-grid suspect is cooperating. We just have to hope that another does the same."

A knock came at the door.

Kelsey beckoned to the officer, standing with a sheet of paper.

"What do you have?" John asked.

"A warrant for Henry Tate," the officer said. "From the next county over. Apparently, he was arrested for breaking and entering."

"Let me see," John said. "He picked a lock of a house that had been empty for a while and squatted there. He was arrested and released on bail but never showed up for his court appointment, so the warrant is still out for him."

"We don't have any other official arrest warrants," the officer said, "but I have spoken to a few people across the state, and he is well known by some of them. He likes to break into unused buildings and sleep in them. Mostly a night here and there. Mainly, he sleeps under the stars. Some instances of bar fights—he is considered aggressive. That’s all we have so far."

"Good," John said. "Keep the information coming, but we need to know where he is now and if he is still in the area."

The officer nodded.

"How about the entry point for the Tessa Jameson murder?" John asked.

"We are still working on it, but there’s not a lot left to look at. The trouble is not going through any footage, but finding where there were any cameras or someone who might have seen something."

"Keep on it," John said.

The officer tapped the door surround and left.

"Samual Kerr?" John asked.

"Let’s pay him a visit," Kelsey agreed.

***

As Kelsey and John were pulling up, Samuel was getting out of a black van with the name of the store written on the side. Kelsey got out of the vehicle, and Samuel looked her way, but he didn't stop. He went into the store and disappeared.

Kelsey and John followed him in, the bell above the door ringing as they entered. They didn't see Samuel, but they were greeted by one of his employees.

"Where did Sammy go?" John asked.

"He went to the back," the employee said. "I think he did; he was in a rush."

"Do you know where he had been?" John asked.

"Out making deliveries," the employee said.

John led the way this time, Kelsey following him through the store to the door that led to the back room. He pushed open the door, not stepping into the relative darkness.

"Samuel?" he called into the storeroom. "Samuel, it’s Deputy Sheriff Gallant. We are coming in, and I don't want to see you with a hammer this time."

John didn't draw his gun, but his hand was held dangerously close to his holster. Kelsey scanned the room as she stepped in with him. It was dark, but not dark enough that they wouldn’t see him if he came at them. The only way that would happen is if he snuck up behind them.

"Samuel Kerr? Are you back here?" John asked.

He led Kelsey toward the back door. Samuel could have made an escape.

"I’m going to go back out front," Kelsey whispered as they approached the back door. "If he’s making a run for it, he might take the truck."

John reached for the back door, and Kelsey turned. There was a flash to her right from the direction of the small office, and Kelsey took a step back, pulling her gun and pointing it at the source of the movement.

"Waoh!" Samuel creamed, raising his hands.

Kelsey made a quick check of his hands, finding them empty before she lowered the gun.

"You scared me half to death," Samuel said.

"Did you not see us in the parking lot out front?" Kelsey asked.

"No." Samuel frowned.

"Why were you in such a rush?" John asked. "You took off through the store like you were on the run."

"I was," Samuel admitted. "I had to make a call from the office phone, and I have more deliveries to make today. It’s been a busy day." Samuel kept his hands raised before him.

"We need to ask you some more questions," Kelsey said."

"And you don't mind if we have a look in your office, do you?" John asked.

Samuel hesitated, whether that was because he had something to hide or he really was busy. He could say no, but the questions and search would happen whether he liked it or not.

"Yeah, come on back," Samuel said.

Samuel turned and walked back to the office. Kelsey kept a close watch while John remained close to their suspect in case he tried to run or pulled a weapon.

The three of them crammed themselves back into the small office, Samuel and Kelsey both sitting as they had before. John moved around them, searching what little there was to search. Samuel was annoyed by it, but he let it happen.

"We found another body," Kelsey said. "Lucy Hollins."

Samuel downturned his lips. "Don't know who that is."

"She was living over at the motel in Temple," Kelsey said. "They found her this morning, but she had been dead for a while. We believe she made at least one trip into Richford."

"I know the motel, but I don't know her," Samuel maintained. "There are always people going through the motel. Some stay for longer, and some move on quickly. We have motels here, but that one is the cheapest in the area."

"We believe she visited your store," Kelsey said, watching him for any change in demeanor.

"We are busy here," Samuel said. "If she was staying in Temple and needed supplies, she likely did visit the store, but that doesn't mean I know her or even served her."

"She would have bought a hammer and some nails, maybe more," Kelsey said.

Samuel’s eyes lit up. "Oh, yeah." He shook his head and sneered. "Yeah, I remember her. Won’t forget her in a hurry." Samuel’s look quickly went from disdain to nervousness.

John stopped his search to keep an eye on him.

"What can you tell me about her?" Kelsey asked.

Samuel held up his hands again, surrendering to them. "I didn't kill her, alright? I know what you are thinking."

"What are we thinking?" John asked.

"Tessa Jameson was in my store, and she made bogus claims against me, and then she died. Then this other woman is in my store, and she dies too. I didn't kill any of them."

"You said you didn’t know her," John noted.

"Not by name, but I remember her order. A hammer and nails, just like you said."

"But she stuck out to you, didn't she?" Kelsey asked. "You must get a lot of people buying hammers and nails."

"Yeah, we do, but you’re right. She did stick out to me, and I was the one who served her. I had my eye on her from the moment she came in. She had those wireless headphone things in and was creating a racket. Singing when she entered, and then she spotted poor Mr. Sanderson in one of the aisles and did a little dance for him. She’s not the type of person we want around here."

"Not the type of person you want around here?" Kelsey repeated.

"No, she was awful. She was so loud the entire time she was in here that I couldn’t hear myself think. She sang practically the whole time and didn't even take the headphones out when she got to the register, and she was just obnoxious. I can't pinpoint any one thing about her, but I know the type of person she is. Or she was. She just rubbed me the wrong way."

"Did she?" John asked.

"Yeah, she did, but I didn't kill her. A lot of people rub me the wrong way, but I wouldn’t be in business long if I went around killing them all. She was a menace to the town. I spoke to Alison after, my afternoon girl, and she told me she almost hit Mrs. Billings with her car on the way out of town the other day. Apparently, she speeds around in that car like she wants to kill someone."

"Well, not anymore," John said.

"We’ll need another alibi," Kelsey said. "I need to know where you were two nights ago from 11 pm until dawn."

"Easy," Samuel said, smiling in relief. "I was at home with my wife, and she will back me up on that."

Kelsey looked at John, who had pulled out his phone.

"We have to go," he said. "There’s a game warden who saw Henry Tate yesterday."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Kelsey and John went back to the police station, where the game warden was waiting for them. When they entered the station, they spotted him immediately.

The game warden sat in the reception area wearing a large rain jacket with reflective elements down the front and both sleeves. He also wore a hat that was suited to wet weather, even though it was not raining, and a badge on his jacket.

He must have sensed who they were as they entered, and he stood up with a large hand outstretched. It was hard to discern his exact age under the hat, pulled-up collar, and bushy mustache, but the large grin and energetic movements made him endearing.

"Barney Cobb," the game warden said. "I heard you are looking for Henry."

"Nice to meet you," John said, shaking his hand first.

"You too," Barney said. He extended his hand to Kelsey and shook her hand vigorously.

"You saw him recently?" Kelsey asked.

She and John shepherded Barney to the side to speak with him.

"I did. I’m the one who deals with him when he is in the area," Barney said.

"What does that mean?" Kelsey asked.

"He’s employed by the state," Barney replied. "We use him for animal control."

"What?" Kelsey replied, the information throwing her for a moment.

"Yeah, he’s doesn’t seem like the type, right?" Barney said. "We reintroduced wolves into the area recently, and they take care of the natural populations, keep the deer in check, which keeps the foliage in check, and help the rivers and streams. There are fish for the bears. It’s a whole ecosystem that we don't need to go into right now. We are almost back to where we once were with the ecology out there, but it needs a little helping hand here and there. Henry moves across the state, mainly taking care of the coyote population, and he also traps some animals to be released elsewhere."

"So, he’s out there hunting?" John asked.

"Yeah, but that’s only a small part of his job. He hunts for us, but most of the work is reporting on what he sees. I do know he traps some animals for their fur, and he sells that to dealers across North Dakota. He’s not meant to do that, but he knows what he’s doing when it comes to wildlife, so we turn a blind eye. He does have a hunting and trapping license, but not everything is by the book. We know that, but if he’s doing more good than harm, then we let it slide."

"How about flora and fauna?" Kelsey asked. "Does he help with that? Bushes, shrubs, prairie roses?"

The game warden shook his head. "Not that I know of."

"But he would have access to a lot of prairie roses out there, wouldn’t he?" John asked.

"Yeah, but so would anyone who spent a minute in the prairies," Barney said.

"Do you know if he is still out there?" Kelsey asked.

"You never know with Henry. He didn't tell me, and I didn't ask. I did get the impression that he wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere. I would guess that he is still out there somewhere. I can show you where on the map."

Barney pulled a paper map out of his pocket and unfolded it. "So, this is the town, and this is the main road in and out. If you take this road off the main one and then go down here for a couple of kilometers, you get to an access point. From there, you have to go on foot, and it’s probably about a kilometer and a half hike to where he might be camping." Barney tapped a point on the map. "It’s not all that bad terrain."

"Can we keep this?" Kelsey asked.

"Sure," Barney replied. "I have another in my pack."

"Thanks." Kelsey took a pen from her pocket and drew an ‘X’ where the camp should be. "How was he when you spoke to him?" Kelsey asked. "Did he act as he usually did?"

"He’s an intense guy, and most people who interact with him can take him the wrong way, but he’s a good guy at the heart of it all. You respect him, and he will respect you. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but then, I wasn’t looking for anything. He might have been a little more irritable than normal, but that was it."

"Thank you for your help," Kelsey said. She turned to John. "Let’s go for a hike."

***

Kelsey looked at her phone again, but there was no signal anymore. She stuffed it back in her pocket. She was with John, and she could take care of herself, but she didn't like being in the middle of nowhere with no way to contact people. She had been in the same situation before, and while it had ended well, it could have easily gone the other way.

John led the way, and he looked in his element with the map and compass. She imagined him exploring the jungles of… Afghanistan? She couldn’t remember if there were jungles there. She could picture desserty terrain, but were there lush treed areas?

"Sheriff Anderson told me you had a visitor back in Winchburgh, but he has no idea who he was," John commented as he marched through the brush.

"Yeah, an old friend from the department," Kelsey replied.

"Weird for him to show up like that," John continued, fishing for information. "Did he have anything to say about the arrest or what comes next?"

"Only that the corruption in the FBI is being investigated, and some of the people there are scared. Granger mainly."

"That’s good," John said. "If his investigation gets derailed or put on the back burner for now, you’re safe, right?"

"Yeah, maybe," Kelsey said. She knew it wouldn’t work like that, but she didn't want John to worry about her. "Yeah, I’m glad something is being done about the corruption," Kelsey said brightly, trying to put his mind at ease. All they had to do was concentrate on the present, and they could deal with the future later.

"How was your sister?" John asked.

"She was better. There is still a long way to go, but we had a good conversation, and we ate together, and she didn't freak out the entire time I was there." Kelsey suddenly felt guilty for not being there anymore. She had explained to her sister why she had to go, but she didn't know if Erica understood. She was hazy about everything now that her life had been turned upside down.

"It was nice," Kelsey added. "I can see her staying in Winchburgh when she recovers. It would be a good place for her with lots of support."

"You’ll ensure she has a good life there," John said.

Kelsey felt her heart splitting. The meaning was twofold: John expected Kelsey to be there in the future, which she wouldn’t, and he expected Kelsey to be there for her sister, which she wouldn’t. Maybe the investigation would come to an end, and she would be arrested but beat the charges. Still, if SAC Granger did put a case together against her, she was sure it would be ironclad.

"She’ll have a lot of good people around her." Kelsey needed to change the subject. "Sheriff Anderson thinks you want to stay out here so you can avoid your problems back home." Kelsey brushed away a fly that had landed on her forehead.

"That man is often not wrong. I must admit that everything is a lot simpler out here," John said.

"DO you mean in the wilderness or away from Winchburgh?" Kelsey asked.

John stopped, and Kelsey stopped alongside him. She looked him in the eye. Neither of them had been more open with anyone else, but they were both guarded. There were still obstacles to overcome.

"We are almost there," John said. "The camp should be just up ahead if the point on the map is correct or somewhere close by."

"Way to deflect," Kelsey said. "How do you want to play this?"

"I don't know. The motel manager thinks this guy is crazy, but I’m more inclined to believe the game warden’s impression of him. If he were not a murder suspect, I would call out so he knew we were here, but I don't want to give him the chance to run. Ethan Moore didn’t like us arriving at his home unannounced, and I get the impression Henry Tate will like it even less. He’s out here for a reason, and it’s more than just nature. He got confrontational with the hotel manager, and he will likely do the same with us."

"Okay," Kelsey said. "We go in slow and carefully, but we are ready to draw our guns. We don't know anything yet, so I’d like to avoid any trigger-happy incidents."

"I would too," John agreed, "but he’s a trained killer. If he can hunt animals, he can hunt us. He’ll know his way around knives and guns, and there might be traps laid out. We go in carefully, but if he attacks us, we take the shot."

Kelsey nodded. They both drew their guns and made sure the safeties were off before holstering them again.

John led again, but Kelsey was close to his side this time. They stepped gingerly, making sure not to step on any dry branches that would crack and alert him to their presence. They searched for any sign of a camp. If he carried his pack on his back, he wouldn’t have a large tent. Either something to sleep in or a small tarp to sleep under.

There was no sign of life in any direction. The rolling hills and trees extended in every direction. If they didn't have the map and compass, Kelsey was not sure she would be able to make it back to the truck on instinct alone. They had not seen animals, but they had been heard. No wolves or bears, but lots of birds and a yelping sound that she took for coyotes.

She stepped forward, and John grabbed her arm. To stop her in her tracks. He pointed to the spot she was about to step—a snare was set up. The metal loop was small but potent. It might not have harmed her, but if she stepped in it in the right way, it might tightened around her foot and cut through her shoe. At the very least, it would have tripped her.

"He’s here," John whispered. "He will not have set this up right by his camp, but he will be close."

Kelsey nodded. They moved forward again, and ten yards later, John didn't need to point out the trip wire. She was on the lookout for traps now and stepped over it. She looked at John, and he was thinking the same thing. A trip wire was to alert him. They were right at his camp now.

They might have missed the covered enclosure if they were not looking for it. Branches and leaves were piled over a green tarp, a small opening at one end. John and Kelsey both looked around—there was no one else out there; he was in the shelter.

John gestured, and Kelsey understood. She circled around to the other side of the shelter as he pulled his gun and pointed it at the small home. Kelsey walked as quietly as she could, checking for traps the entire time. She reached the other side and bent down, not bothering to take out her gun when John had his trained on their suspect.

"Come out," Kelsey ordered. "We are armed and have you surrounded."

There was no answer.

Kelsey looked up at John and saw the man standing behind him with a knife to his neck.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

"Don't do anything stupid!" Kelsey begged.

"You’ve already done something stupid," Henry Tate said.

Kelsey couldn’t see much of him behind John except for the large, bushy brown beard and piercing green eyes. He had one arm around John’s chest and a knife pushed to his neck with the other. John remained motionless, his arms raised out to the side, the gun still in his hand but pointed slightly into the air.

"I can show you my ID," Kelsey said. "I’m an FBI agent, and the man whose throat you have a knife pressed to is a deputy sheriff."

"I don't care. It doesn’t matter who you are. If I want to kill you, I could do it easily, and they would never find your bodies," Henry said. His voice was deep and gravelly.

"Game Warden Barney Cobb knows we’ve come looking for you," Kelsey stated.

"So?" Henry answered. His eyes cut through Kelsey. "They won’t find any evidence."

John looked at Kelsey, trying to communicate with his eyes. He wanted her to draw her gun and take the shot, no matter the consequences. That was not a risk Kelsey was willing to take. She only hoped he wouldn’t do something stupid and try to take down Henry. John was extremely capable, but there was something about the trapper that elevated him. He was on home ground. If John so much as moved, the trapper would slit his throat.

"We don't mean you any harm," Kelsey said, standing up slowly.

"You meant to surround me and beat me out of my shelter. He had his gun drawn. No waiting, nothing. Did you come up here to talk to me or to kill me?" Henry asked.

He wasn’t agitated—he had a calm serenity about him, but that was equally as unnerving. He was in complete control of the situation, and it would not be over until he said it was over.

John breathed evenly. He put his military training to use to ensure he could react when the chance came. There would come a point when Henry either let him go or tried to kill him.

"All I want to do is to ask you some questions," Kelsey said.

"Well, go on then," Henry said.

"Can you let my partner go first?" Kelsey asked. "You’re making me nervous."

"No," Henry said. "I can feel the tension in his body. As soon as I let him go, he’s baying for my blood. Can you assure me he will play nice?"

"Yes, I can," Kelsey said.

"Good. So, ask your questions, and when he has calmed down, I will let him go."

"Where were you two nights ago?" Kelsey asked, seeing no other way for this to progress.

"I assume you are asking about the motel."

"Yes. What happened at the motel?" Kelsey asked.

"I had an altercation with the manager," Henry replied.

John choked a little, and Kelsey almost went for her gun. Henry shifted to ensure John would not try anything and kept the knife touching his throat while not cutting him.

"I could kill you anytime," Henry whispered. "Try anything, and you’ll die out here, and that means she will too. Do you understand?"

John tightened his lips.

"Do you understand?" Henry repeated. "If you force my hand, it won’t just be you that dies, but her too. Her life is in your hands, deputy sheriff."

"I understand," John hissed.

"You don't feel any calmer. We are out in nature, and you are so tense."

Henry had a meditative irritation about him, and it did not make John look any calmer. Henry patted John’s chest.

"Altercation?" Kelsey asked when John looked a little calmer. "What does that mean?"

"It means I pulled my knife on the motel manager and threatened him."

"Henry, I will be honest with you," Kelsey said. "You pulled a knife at the motel, and you pulled a knife here. That doesn’t look very good to you. And I want you to know one thing. If you try anything with my partner, I will put a bullet in your head before you draw blood. I don't doubt you have some skills, but I have some too."

Henry was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "I’ll take my chances. I drew my knife on the motel manager because he disrespected me. I drew my knife today because the two of you disrespected me. If you had hailed me as you entered my camp, I would have had a conversation, but you didn't. If the motel manager hadn’t lied to my face and called me scum, I would have had a conversation with him. If you are asking if I killed that woman, then you are barking up the wrong tree."

"How do you know about the woman?" Kelsey asked.

"The trees have eyes, and the wind has ears," Henry said. "I know all about what is happening in the area. A fourth person was killed. You can be assured a fifth is coming."

"How do you know that?" Kelsey asked.

"Because you haven’t caught him yet, have you?"

"Convince me you are not the killer," Kelsey ordered.

"I don't have to convince you of anything," Henry said.

"True, but you deal in respect, don't you? Then, show me some respect and convince me that you are not the killer so I can go back to hunting him. I have an ecosystem, too. I can't have a murderer running around and killing people. That messes up life in town. You need the wolves out here to keep the natural habitat under control, but it is the opposite for me. If I find a wolf, I have to kill it. Show me some darn respect, Henry."

Henry considered his response again. "I don't have an alibi for the woman at the motel, but I do have one for the fire-haired boy. Will that suffice?"

"Yes," Kelsey replied.

"On the night he was killed, I had a blind set up ten miles from here. A blind is a concealed shelter—I can remain inside and study my surroundings. I had specially set this one up to watch a horned owl and some silver-haired bats. It was fruitful. I was not alone that night; I had a forest ranger with me. Talk to Charlie Bosco, and he will confirm that for you. I was miles from where the murder occurred, and it would have been impossible for me to get there and back. I don't believe I have alibis for the other three, but I have an alibi for that one, and if you can rule me out of one murder, then you can rule me out of all four, can't you?"

"I can, but only if you are telling me the truth. If you were the killer, it is exactly the thing you would say to put me at ease so you could kill me."

"I could have already killed you both," Henry claimed.

"No, you couldn’t. You believe me about my marksman skills. You can't take us both out."

"Then we are at an impasse. I have proven to you that I am not the killer, and all you need to do is believe me."

"You gave me the information that I can't check until I am back in town."

"Time is ticking, so you had better choose what you want to do," Henry said.

They were in the middle of nowhere, and Kelsey didn't doubt he could hide their bodies. He knew a lot about the killings for a man who lived off the grid, but that didn't mean he couldn’t find out that information. Kelsey could read people well, but Henry Tate was an enigma.

Kelsey put her hands up and approached Henry and John. She moved slowly and reached out for John’s gun, locking eyes: let it go, John.

He released his grip, and Kelsey took the gun. She clicked the safety button and placed it in the inside pocket of her jacket. She pulled the other gun out a little and clicked the safety on that one, too. Then, she stepped back to her original position.

"Okay, now let him go. I’m in control," Kelsey said.

Henry took a breath before he removed the knife from John’s neck. He slammed his other hand onto John’s back and pushed him violently, sending him tumbling head over heels. John quickly spun and jumped up, ready to fight.

"You are insane!" John stated.

"We don't have time to waste," Kelsey said.

John’s eyes were fixed on the knife in Henry’s hands.

"Survival instincts," Henry said as if that sufficed as an explanation.

John took deep breaths, not looking away from Henry.

"You entered my camp, and you get to leave it unharmed. Not a scratch on you," Henry said.

Kelsey held her hand out to try to ensure there was no fighting between the two men. She looked him in the eye. It was obvious why John was angry, and she was impressed with how restrained he was. Henry made a good point, but his decisions were not the most peaceful. Henry talked of respect, but Kelsey could see he had a warped view of respect. It was trumped by survival and paranoia.

"Can I interest either of you in some tea?" Henry asked as if they had not almost killed each other.

John snorted.

Henry didn't react, and by the time Kelsey looked back at Henry, he had a small fire started and was warming a small pot of water over it.

John rocked back into his rear and took a deep breath. He was shaking after coming so close to death. They had been in positions before where someone threatened them with a weapon, but that was all it was: a threat. There was no doubt that Henry would kill if needed.

Still, Kelsey believed they would find an alibi. He might have killed them if they had put up a fight after coming into his camp, but he wasn’t the type of man to go looking for people to kill. They came to him. And seeing as he spent so much time alone in the wilderness, there were few people to annoy him. He was about more than killing for petty reasons, no matter how insane he might be.

"What does the prairie rose mean to you?" Kelsey asked, making conversation until John was ready to go and hoping to get some inside information.

"Beauty," Henry said, not looking up from the small flame. "It’s a flower we need to protect and encourage to boost our ecosystem."

"How easy are they to grow?" Kelsey asked. "Could anyone do it?"

"Yes," Henry replied. "If you are asking for information about the killer, then yes, he could grow it in his garden if he wanted to. It’s not all that hard."

"Can we go?" John asked.

Kelsey positioned herself between John and Henry in case another altercation flared up.

"I don't think I will see either of you again," Henry said.

"I hope not," John replied.

"A word of advice," Henry said. "You came in a straight line from your truck to my camp, but it is not the quickest route." He pointed past Kelsey and John. "Go through those two trees, and you will find a deer path. Follow that, and it will loop around to your truck. It’s slightly longer but flat and level."

"Thank you," Kelsey said. She was sure if she were not there, John would go the way they had come just to spite Henry. That is, if they didn't come to blows first.

They left camp, and as they followed the path back, Kelsey had the sense they were being watched. That could have been Henry or a wild animal. They were almost back to the truck when John’s phone rang.

"Hey, what’s up?" John asked. A pause. "We were in the middle of nowhere, but we are on our way back now." Another pause. "Okay, send me the address, and we will go straight there. Good work."

"What did they find?" Kelsey asked.

"They found someone who might have seen the killer taking Tessa Jameson out to the prairie. They are texting me the address, and we can head straight there to talk with them."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

John screeched the truck to a stop. They had been sidetracked in the wilderness, and it only felt as if they had lost time. Kelsey agreed with Henry Tate. Someone else would be killed soon unless they got to the killer first. It was slowly coming together, but slowly was not good enough.

They both got out of the truck at the small ranch house in the middle of nowhere. They didn't have to go to the door and knock. A middle-aged man wearing coveralls exited and headed toward them with a smile, the kind of welcoming smile found a lot in small towns.

"Howdy," the man said. "Doug Jenkins. You the police come to talk about the truck I saw."

"Special Agent Hawk," Kelsey said in reply. "You think you saw the killer?"

"I did. How much is the reward money?"

"Reward money?" Kelsey asked.

"You know, for giving a tip that gets you the killer?"

"Sir, there is no reward money," John said. "But you will have peace of mind that the streets are safer."

"Hmm," Doug said. "The streets are already mighty quiet down here, and I have a repair to make on the barn, you know."

"Mr. Jenkins," Kelsey stated as calmly as she could. "If you want to obstruct justice, we can arrest you and take you down to the station. If not, I suggest you tell us what you know right now. So, I will ask you once more: did you see the killer?"

Doug thought about it for a second. "I don't know about that, but I saw someone out that morning. Don't get people in these parts much, but I was out on the back porch when the truck went by. Didn't see who was inside."

"Why do you think it was the killer?" Kelsey asked.

"Like I said, I don't know for sure, but it’s strange to get anyone down this way, and the road leads to nowhere. Sure, it leads you to the prairies, but not the nice part of it. There are a dozen other places to go. And it was the wrong type of vehicle. Not a truck like yours, but like a van, a delivery van."

"A delivery van?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, one with the large cargo area in the back. It was a black truck with the logo or some writing across the side. It was too far away to make it out. It went past in one direction, and about an hour later, it went back the other way. Can't say for sure who was in it, but it felt suspicious to me."

"I know that truck," Kelsey said. "We need to get back to town."

"Thank you for your time," John said, turning to make his way back to the truck.

"Samuel Kerr," Kelsey said. "He was making delivering in that truck when we spoke to him last. I’ll get on the phone and get someone to bring him in. Unless he’s already made a run for it."

***

"Do we have him?" John asked as he and Kelsey burst into the police station.

"He’s in interview room one," Officer Bradley said. "He was at the store when we went there, the van too. He didn't put up a fight or anything, but claims his innocence. He hasn’t said anything so far."

"Are forensics looking at the truck?" Kelsey asked.

"A team is on their way," the officer said.

"Notify me when they get here. How about the wife?" Kelsey asked.

"She was home when they knocked on her door. She came quietly as well, and she hasn’t changed her story. She claimed Samuel was with her all night, every night this week, and when he wasn’t with her, he was in the store. Except for Sunday when they went to church and spent the rest of the day in the backyard."

"Okay," Kelsey said. "Leave her alone for now, and we will speak to her after we speak to Samuel."

"You got it," the officer said.

"Oh, and send someone back to the house," Kelsey said. "I want to know if there are any prairie roses growing in his garden."

The officer looked confused for a moment, but he accepted the request and nodded.

Kelsey and John went straight back to the interview rooms. Kelsey looked in on Samuel’s wife. She sat in the assigned chair at the table and looked calm but worried. It was not the type of worry that suggested she had been caught, but it was worry that they had been brought to a police station. If Samuel was the killer, his wife was not in on it.

John didn't wait. He pushed the door to interview room one open and strode in. That is probably the best tactic. Instead of pleading his case, Samuel quickly closed his mouth and cowered before John.

"We have your delivery van heading to the crime scene on the morning Tessa Jameson was murdered," John stated.

"Wh-what?" Sammy stammered. "What are you talking about."

"Someone saw you, Sammy. You were spotted driving out to kill her, and then you were spotted coming back a while later," John continued.

"That’s not possible. I wasn’t out there. Talk to my wife. She’ll back up everything I say," Samuel whimpered.

"I don't care what she has to say," John told him. "I want to hear it from you. I want to hear you confess. All of this goes away if you do, and we don't have to worry about a trial. Sammy, we know why you did it. We know how much these people anger you. You were trying to do a good thing, and it got out of hand. You need to own up to that."

"I didn't do anything," Samuel claimed. "It must have been one of my employees. They probably stole the van and drove out there."

"Do they have keys to the van?" John asked.

"No, but they could hotwire it or something."

"Samuel," Kelsey said, stepping in. She moved to the table and sat down opposite him, looking him in the eye. It had a calming, hypnotic effect. John took it as his cue to move back and let her do her thing. "Samuel, do you think any of your employees could have killed four people?"

Samuel looked down at the table and then back up at Kelsey. "No, they wouldn’t."

"No, they wouldn’t," Kelsey repeated calmly. "We saw your truck, a black truck, driving out there."

"There are a lot of black trucks in town," Samuel replied.

"It had your logo on the side," Kelsey continued.

"It’s not possible," Samuel murmured. "It must have been someone else’s truck. Someone else must have the same truck and a logo on the side."

"Samuel, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do it," Kelsey said.

Samuel looked her in the eye. "I didn't do it. I swear to you that I didn't kill anyone." His eyes welled with tears. "I couldn’t kill anyone. I couldn’t do it. I would never do it." He started whimpering and murmuring words.

The knock at the door didn't disturb Samuel from his woe, but I did stir John and Kelsey. The officer beckoned for them to exit the room, which they did.

"Mariah Peters, a nurse at the local hospital, went missing late last night," the officer said. "She was seen leaving the hospital, but she never made it home. Her car was found in the employee parking lot, but there was no trace of her. She wasn’t formally reported missing until this morning, and I sent an officer down there straight away. Two of the employees entering the building shortly after Mariah left say they heard a small scream. It was not small in volume, but as if someone had started screaming and been stopped. Nothing at the time to warrant more than looking that way, but no one saw anything."

Kelsey felt her heart beating furiously. Someone was missing, and there was no dead body. That gave them a chance.

"Do you think it is the killer?" John asked Kelsey.

"We have to assume it is," she replied.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

"This was last night, right?" John asked. "He has her in his basement, and he’s biding his time until we release him. The wife is in on it, too."

Kelsey bit her bottom lip. "You saw how he was in the room. Did he seem like the kind of guy who has a woman locked up in his home? Did his wife seem off?"

"They’re not going to confess when they think we have nothing on them," John said.

Kelsey thought back to the entire conversation in the interview room with Samuel Kerr. She had looked him in the eye as he had pled his innocence. It didn't matter what words he spouted, only the way he said them. It was hard enough for one person to keep it together, but two?

"I know what you are thinking," John said. "And I know you are right. He was nervous the entire time, but he wasn’t worried, was he?"

"We follow this through. I don't think Samuel abducted her, but I want you to go to his house and check it out. Put out an APB for a black van with writing or a logo on the side. I saw how far the road was from Doug Jenkins' house. When he saw the van, he wouldn’t have been able to make out whose van it was. This town is not big, but it is big enough for there to be a few black vans with a logo on the side. And as soon as the forensics come back for Samuel’s van, I want to see them."

"What are you going to do?" John asked.

"I will take another run at Samuel and his wife. I don't like resorting to dirty tricks, but we are against the clock now."

John nodded and left. Kelsey heard him shout at the officers in the main area of the station, likely taking them along for backup.

Time was ticking, but she felt it was also on their side. There were two options: Samuel was the killer, or he was not. If he were the killer, they had time to find the missing woman.

Kelsey opened the door to the interview room, walked in, and closed it again.

"Samuel, we are keeping you here for now. We can hold you for forty-eight hours, and you had better believe I will keep you here for the entire time or until you tell me what I need to know."

"I didn't do it," Samuel pleaded. "I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you need to know."

"I’ll have everything I need soon enough," Kelsey said. "You won’t talk, but your wife is being very cooperative. This is your last chance, Samuel. You can make it easier on yourself."

"I’ll cooperate however you want, but I didn't kill anyone," Samuel said sadly.

Kelsey grimaced. "I’ll be right outside if there is anything you need to get off your chest."

Samuel held her gaze before his head slumped into his hands. He let out a sigh as he shook his head. He looked beaten and withered.

Kelsey left the room.

If Samuel was not the killer, they still had time on their side. Kelsey knew a lot about the killer and knew he was careful and deliberate. All four kills were in secluded areas. Carly Benson had been taken to a deserted parking lot, and Tessa Jameson had been taken out to the prairies in the early morning. Neil Saunders had been followed and killed in a dark alley. Lucy Hollis had been killed in her hotel room.

She could not be absolutely certain, but she imagined the killer watched his victims and chose the right time and place. He might kill close to home, someone local to Richford, but he didn't kill close to his home.

His current victim was an anomaly. Mariah Peters had been taken from a public place, but not in full view of anyone. He had meant to take her and kill her elsewhere. There had been a scream or the start of a scream. If witnesses had heard it, the killer would have heard it, too. He would be on edge.

With the police looking for a killer, he would be nervous. He might have to change his plans. He would have to wait. He would have her somewhere, waiting for the right time to kill her.

Kelsey hoped all of this was true. She believed they had some time, but she did not know how much time they had.

She went straight to the other interview room where Samuel’s wife was seated. She was stirred from her thoughts when Kelsey entered the room.

Elizabeth Kerr was short and slight. She had permanently furrowed brows as if she were constantly perplexed by something, but a welcoming smile she wore often.

"Mrs. Kerr, thank you for waiting. This will not take long."

"Okay, good," Elizabeth responded, measuring each word as if she had to speak as clearly as possible to be understood.

"Your husband has told us everything." Kelsey let the words hang in the air.

Elizabeth looked up at her with confusion. "I don’t… I’m sorry, what’s going on."

"He has told us everything, including your part in it all." Another pause from Kelsey. "Now, I don’t believe you had anything to do with it, but my opinion doesn’t matter. Only the facts matter."

"What did he say he did?" Elizabeth asked. "I don't understand any of what is going on here." Her voice rose as she spoke.

"I’m sure you don’t," Kelsey said plainly. "There’s a chance to save a woman, and if you help me do that, you won’t go to jail. Your husband is going to jail, but he won’t face the death penalty if you help us."

"Oh, my goodness!" Elizabeth placed a hand over her mouth. "What has he done? He can't have. It’s not possible."

Kelsey did not sense any lies coming from Elizabeth Kerr, but she needed to push to discover if there was a crack somewhere.

"You gave him alibis for all of the murders, and that means you are an accessory, Mrs. Kerr. You will both go to jail. If Mariah Peters dies, you will never see this town again."

"Who? What?" Elizabeth’s hands shook before her. "Please, I don't know what is happening. I don't know anything."

Kelsey got as close to Elizabeth as she could, crouching down before her. "I want the truth, Mrs. Kerr. Tell me the truth, or you don't walk out of here today."

"I have told you the truth," she whimpered. "I’ve told you everything."

Kelsey was sure Samuel’s wife truly didn't know anything.

"Where was your husband last night at 10 pm?" Kelsey asked.

"He was at home with me," she answered quickly.

"Where was he?" Kelsey demanded. "Tell me where he really was!"

"He was home with me." Elizabeth started crying. "I don't know what you want. I don't know what’s going on. I just want to see Samuel again."

Kelsey stood back up, feeling terrible for putting her through this, but a little hurt was worth everything in the pursuit of Mariah Peters. She couldn’t bring back any of the others, but she could stop him from killing again. There was no hard evidence, only the alibi from his wife. Still, Kelsey was sure Samuel was not the killer.

That meant the killer was out there, and he would be looking for a way to kill his next victim without being caught. Kelsey rubbed her forehead and eyes before she left the room. When Samuel was ruled out for sure, she would apologize to him and his wife, but she had to be sure first.

***

"We’ve searched the house and found nothing," John said. "I have someone going over to the hardware store, just in case, but there’s no chance he’s hiding someone there."

Kelsey held the phone to her ear. She had both feared and expected that. It put them back at square one with no real suspect. She could see the suspect in her mind and knew him well, stepping easily into his shoes. She had everything except a name.

"Okay, let’s go back to the start. What do we know?" Kelsey asked. "We’re sure he is local. All four victims had ties to the town in some way. We also know he cares about the town. He takes pride in it. He doesn’t want anything to disrupt his life or the lives of everyone around him. He’s someone out in the community. He knows people, talks to them, and discovers the bad eggs. He’s affected by these people, and he's probably a business owner. He has a van, too, likely a delivery van. Maybe the victims have interacted with him, or maybe he hears people talking about it. It wouldn’t be likely that all four had infected with him and given him reason to react as he did, especially with two of the women being from out of town. So, he’s a business owner who talks to other business owners and wants to do something—make a stand."

"So, where does that leave us?" John asked.

"Go back to the diner and talk to Al. I want to know who he talks to. Do the same with Carly’s aunt. It was mentioned that Carly would visit to help her get groceries, clean, and that sort of thing. Did she have people coming into her home? Making deliveries? Did she speak to any of them about her niece? I’ll talk to Samuel. Let’s see if we can narrow this down."

"On it," John said.

Kelsey hung up the phone and looked at the officer standing before her.

"Got the forensics back on the truck," the officer said.

Kelsey took the documents and looked through them. She had expected just that: no trace of Tessa Jameson anywhere in the truck. The Kerrs were innocent, but Kelsey was not ready to let them go just yet.

"Officer Bentley spoke to Charlie Bosco, and he confirms Henry Tate’s alibi. He was with him the entire night that Neil Saunders was killed."

"Okay, good," Kelsey said.

It was a process of elimination. Samuel Kerr and Henry Tate were like chalk and cheese, but they had both been ruled out. It was frustrating, but the good kind of frustrating. Every step back took them two steps forward.

Kelsey returned to the interview room with Samuel Kerr. Neither he nor his wife had asked for a lawyer or asked to talk to anyone to volunteer any information. They would look back on the fiasco someday as a blip in an otherwise ordinary life.

"I want to know who you talk to," Kelsey said.

"I didn't do any—"

"I don't care what you did or did not do," Kelsey said. "I need names. Who did you complain to about Tessa Jameson? Or Lucy Hollis?"

"What?"

"We don't have time for this," Kelsey said. "If you didn't kill anyone, then help me find who did. You spoke to someone about the two women who were killed? You complained about them before they were killed, didn't you?"

"Oh, no," Samuel said. "Did I—"

"Samuel, we don't have time. Nothing you did led to their deaths. I only want to know who you spoke to."

"I spoke to… no, he would never."

"Who?" Kelsey asked.

"I’ll tell you his name, but I want you to know he is not the killer."

"Just tell me his name," Kelsey demanded.

"Al," Samuel said.

"From the diner?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, but it’s just talk. And I didn’t mention anything about that second woman to him. I might have mentioned Tessa coming into the store, but it’s not like no one else knows what she is like."

"Did he tell you about Neil Saunders?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, but Al wouldn’t hurt a hair on anyone’s head. He was angry, but not for himself, for his employees. He paid them out of his own pocket. I didn't do it, and he didn't do it."

"Where did you and Al talk?" Kelsey asked.

"The Whip," Samuel said. "It’s our local. We go there once a week after work on a Saturday."

"Just the two of you?" Kelsey asked. "Do you hang out with other business owners?"

"No, just the two of us," Samuel replied. "He doesn’t have a black van."

"What?"

"You think Al killed them, but you are looking for someone with a black delivery van, right? He doesn’t have a black delivery van."

"Who does?" Kelsey asked.

Samuel’s eyes flicked from side to side as he thought. If he had an answer, it would take the finger of blame from him. "I don't know. There are dozens of businesses that make deliveries. Food places, grocery stores, pharmacies, and almost everyone else, too."

Kelsey looked up when she heard the knock at the door. John stood outside.

"Keep thinking," Kelsey said. "I want the names of anyone you spoke to or who might have overheard you." Kelsey took the pad of paper and pen in front of her and pushed them over to Samuel. "I want them all written down on this pad before I return."

"Whatever you need," Samuel said.

Kelsey hurried out of the room to speak with John. "What did you find?"

"Al said he spoke to Samuel about Neil Saunders, and he was pretty vocal about it in the pub, but he has a rock solid alibi for the night Neil was murdered and for two of the other murders. I checked for a black van, and he doesn't have one. An APB is out, but no hits yet. I spoke to Carly Benson’s aunt, and she seldom goes out. She gets regular grocery and takeout deliveries. She had a nurse visit every two weeks. A bunch of other people visiting—I have all their names written down."

"Okay, let me think," Kelsey said. She started walking, and John followed her. She headed straight for the main area of the station, needing the collective mind.

"I need a moment," she said, instantly commanding their attention. "We are looking for someone in this town, most likely a small business owner. They might own a black van. They make deliveries to the people in town. They could be a regular of The Whip. They will mostly keep to themselves. Most likely middle-aged."

Kelsey thought back to Tessa Jameson. Her home had been stocked with groceries. Is that how it had happened? Had she received a delivery, and he had taken her then? Carly Benson’s aunt received grocery deliveries. Had she spoken to someone about her niece?

"I think he owns a grocery store. It will be one store, small and independent. Possibly a good gardener who grows prairie roses. He will be friendly and be proud of the town. Maybe engaged in the local community. Who is that? Someone must have an idea?"

Officer Britton raised her hand. Kelsey pointed to her.

"My mom shops at Ridley’s Greengrocers on Center Street," Officer Britton said. "I don't know the guy, but Mom swears by him and always chats with him when she’s in there. Walter? Winston? Something like that. I don't know about a van, but he does make deliveries in town. Don't know about the pub, but that’s the main hangout for much of the town, and it is close to his grocery store."

"Good," Kelsey said. "Get me his home address. We’ll head to his store now and talk with him. Keep on with everything else. This is a race against time. No matter how many dead ends we hit, we keep pushing forward until we find him, okay?"

There were nods and agreements around the room, but the overall feeling was ripe in the air. They could all feel it. Another would die soon unless they caught him.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Kelsey stared into the empty grocery store as John shook the front door—it was locked. He cupped his hands over his eyes and peered in. There was no sign in the window to inform anyone they were closed, and there were no opening or closing times either. It was dark inside, and there was ample room in the rear of the store and the storerooms behind to hide a body.

"You’ll have to come back tomorrow," an old man said as he walked by.

"Why?" John called after him.

The old man stooped and turned to face them. "Ridley’s is always closed on a Tuesday." The old man shook his head and walked off as if everyone should know the opening times of the grocer’s.

"Perfect opportunity to hide someone in the store," John said.

"Let’s check around the back," Kelsey suggested. "If the van is here, we know he’s inside."

John went one way, going in the same direction as the old man, while Kelsey went the other. She skirted around the side of the building, not seeing a black truck anywhere. She reached the back of the store as John did. He gave a shake of the head to indicate that he hadn’t spotted a black van either.

"I have his home address, but we have to go in first, don't we?" John asked.

Kelsey smiled at him, reading her mind.

"Small town, not much crime; pretty safe bet there won't be an alarm system," John continued. He strode straight past Kelsey and tried the back door, shaking it a few times. "Stand back!" John wrenched on the door, and the wood around the lock splintered.

An alarm blared instantly. Kelsey looked up above the door for the source of the blaring. John quickly stepped inside, grabbed something on the inside wall, and ripped it off.

The alarm stopped.

"So much for the element of surprise," Kelsey said, rushing inside. "If Walter was inside, he knew that he had arrived. And the cops might be on their way—that would slow them down.

"We move quickly," Kelsey ordered. "Either find them or get out of here."

John and Kelsey had worked together long enough to move through the storeroom at the back of the store without needing to communicate. They were well-oiled machines, covering each other and moving together in fluid motion. They both checked the bathroom, cleaning cupboard, office, and the main store, calling out Mariah’s name.

"We should go," Kelsey said, waiting for sirens to be heard. She headed for the rear exit but diverted back to the office.

John followed.

She had seen something but had not had time to explore it while searching for Mariah. She still did not have time to explore it, but it was necessary.

In the office was a board with photographs pinned to it. Above were the words: Undesirables. Do Not Serve!

Kelsey quickly scanned the photographs. Tessa, Carly, Neil, and Mariah were all there.

"Come on, we have to go," John ordered.

***

"Look." Kelsey pointed to the front yard as they pulled up. She had been certain they were onto something, and now, she was sure.

John looked at the bush growing in the front yard. "Prairie roses!"

"It’s him," Kelsey said. She checked in the wing mirror and swiveled in her seat to get a better view both ways down the street. "No black truck."

"No garage either. Maybe he has it parked around the back," John suggested.

"Maybe," Kelsey said.

They got out of the vehicle and ran toward the house.

"I’m going around back," John said.

Kelsey could feel the emptiness of the house just by looking at it. No lights were on inside, which was not unusual with it being daytime and light, but unless the van was around back, Kelsey did not think Walter Ridley was inside.

She walked slowly up the path to the front door and bent down beside the prairie roses. They smelled wonderful.

"Same color and size," Kelsey muttered. "Some of the stems have been cut."

"Hello?"

Kelsey looked up and behind. A woman stood peering over the fence, her face half obscured.

"Can I ask what you are doing?" the woman asked.

"Your neighbor, Walter Ridley; is he in?" Kelsey asked.

"I don't know if that is any business of yours," the woman said. She looked toward the backyard as John came from there.

"What’s going on? I’m calling the police," the woman stated.

"We’re already here," Kelsey said, standing up and showing her badge. "Special Agent Kelsey Hawk."

"Oh, yes. What is this about? Walter is not in trouble, is he?"

"We only want to speak to him," Kelsey said. "Do you know if he is in?"

"No. No, I don't think so. I don't know if he came home last night. Not that I spend all of my time concerned with where he is, but I am on the neighborhood watch." The woman nodded proudly.

"Does Mr. Ridley drive a black truck or van?" John asked.

"Yes, he does. He delivered the groceries in his van. He does that for free, don't you know? Very nice man and a very good neighbor. Never any trouble. He’s not in trouble, is he?" The woman shook her head. "No, he wouldn’t be. He’s very nice. You can see how nice his garden is. He helps me, too. He took me to buy my groceries because I’m no spring chicken anymore."

Kelsey could sense the old woman’s fear. She was worried her neighbor was in trouble, and she was pleading his case.

"Do you know where he might have gone?" Kelsey asked.

"Maybe he is at work," the woman said. "He’s always working or helping people. He’s the type of man who actually cares about his community."

Kelsey looked at John, and the two of them moved away from the woman, though she continued to watch them.

"We need a team down here. He might come back, but if he hasn’t been back since last night, then there’s a good chance he is out there somewhere trying to work out what to do with Mariah," Kelsey said.

"Unless he has disposed of her already," John pointed out.

"We can't think like that. Until we know for sure, we assume he is taking Mariah somewhere to kill her."

"But we don’t know where," John said.

"Let me think," Kelsey said. "He wants seclusion, but he’s worried someone heard him last night. Given the report from the hospital, no one saw who took Mariah, and he’s too careful to be seen. The killer is worried someone heard him, but not that someone saw him. And he’s too ingrained in the community to make a run for it. He’ll be planning on killing her soon and doing his ritual. He had time with the other four and the right circumstances. Maybe he had somewhere to take her this time, or maybe the prairie is where he wants to kill them."

"You think he’s gone back to the prairie?" John asked.

"It’s familiar to him. It’s where the prairie roses came from, and it’s where he wants to return them. Carly was out of town, so he took his chance when and where he had it. The same goes for Lucy. Neil was stronger, and he didn't want to risk it. But what if his plan is to take them to the prairies? I think he delivered food to Tessa and then got her in his truck somehow. A small store in a small town like this? Pretty likely he deals a lot in cash sales. Nothing to trace back to him. It’s familiar, and he doesn’t know the truck was spotted. Even at this time of day, it’s deserted out there. He’s probably spooked and lying low, but it’s only a matter of time until he pokes his head out. When he does, I think he will go back to the place he took Tessa Jameson."

"Then what are we waiting for?" John asked.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Walter Ridley stopped the van. He looked out into the nothingness and took a deep breath. It had not got exactly as expected, but he was nearly there, and it would soon be done. She was quiet in the back, and that was good. She had made a fuss for so long that he’d had to keep off the streets for a while.

Walter picked up the prairie rose from the passenger seat and smelled it. It was the most beautiful smell imaginable, his chest rising pridefully as he inhaled. There were hints of summer, rose, and death. His mouth watered as he thought of Mariah’s impending doom.

He looked around the empty parking lot and was relieved. He had not expected anyone there, but he couldn’t be sure until he arrived. He checked in the wing mirrors to look behind. No one on the road. It was only him and Mariah, alone for miles in every direction.

He would not make the same mistake again. It was his second kill, so he should have known better, but it was still all so new to him. When he brought Tessa to that exact spot, he had not expected her to take off running. She had almost gotten away from him, but he caught up to her in the end and strangled her life from her. Mariah Peters was tied up tightly in the back of the van, and he would not untie her hands until he had killed her.

Tessa had been so willing to drive out with him but not so willing when they reached the open prairies. He had offered her money for sexual acts with no intention of going through with them. It was disgusting that a woman would agree to such a thing and a good test of moral character. She had failed it miserably. As soon as he parked the car, she took off running as if she knew his true intentions.

She was a harlot, but he was the fool. He had taken no precautions. It was only through sheer willpower he had caught and strangled her. There would be no running this time. Winston would lead Mariah out into the middle of nowhere and do what needed to be done. He would ensure she was far enough off the trails not to be found for a while.

How exciting would it be if she went undiscovered before our next winter and her body was frozen and preserved until next year?

Walter opened the door and exited the vehicle, taking the prairie rose with him. He placed the prairie rose on the hood of his truck to protect it for now. He looked back the way he had come to make sure no one would disturb him and then went to the back of his delivery van. He freed the latch on the bottom of the door and opened the two doors outward, flooding light into the van.

Mariah was sat at the back of the van, and she whimpered and pushed herself back with her feet, reacting to the sun as if it were a red-hot poker. She was blinded by the light, and Walter took the opportunity to enter the van and grab her arm. He bent down and untied the bindings around her ankles with his free hand.

Mariah whimpered through the gag as Walter lifted her to her feet. She looked down at the cargo compartment floor; her eyes closed tight as Walter led her to the opening.

"Stay there," he ordered. Walter let go of Mariah’s arm and jumped a foot and a half to the ground. "There is a step down, but I will guide you."

Mariah winced and shied away as Walter took her arm again and pulled her forward. She almost fell as he pulled her out of the truck, but Walter was strong enough to catch her. He gave her a second to get her bearings, excited to lead her into the majesty of the prairies.

Mariah finally came to her senses, and the look of fear and dread returned. Walter had to stop himself from smiling; it was bad manners. She deserved to be punished, but he shouldn’t find satisfaction in her reaction. The satisfaction came in fulfilling his duty to his community.

"I’m going to remove your gag," Walter said. "You will die soon, and it is only right that you get to breathe some of the wonderful fresh air out here before you do."

Mariah whimpered through the gag. She had no tears left to cry, her eyes red and dry. Walter reached around to the back of her head to untie the gag. Her hands were still bound in front of her body. As soon as he removed the gag, Mariah screamed.

"Help! Somebody help me!"

Walter immediately raised his arm, flashing the back of his hand, ready to strike her across the face.

Mariah shrunk back, and her breath caught in her throat.

"I don't want to hit you," Walter said. "I do not want to treat you like a child. Look around you. There is no one around for miles. There is no one here to hear you scream. If you scream again, the punishment you receive will be your own fault. Please do not make me hit you."

"Why are you doing this?" Mariah shouted, her voice shaking.

"Because you deserve it," Walter stated. He threw the doors to his van closed again and retook Mariah’s arm.

"I’ve done nothing to you," Mariah pleaded. "Please let me go. Please!"

"I’m sorry, but I can't do that," Walter replied. He led Mariah past the van, picking up the prairie rose on the way, and walked her into the prairies.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" Walter asked. "I love coming out here."

"You are a psychopath," Mariah spat.

"I am sure many would call me that if they knew the things I have done, but more would agree with my methods. I’m not a psychopath. I’m just a man who cares."

"A man who cares?" Mariah laughed as she was dragged through the tall grass. "You are delusional. I am a nurse; I can get you the help you need."

"I don't need help; I offer help," Walter said.

He closed his eyes for a second as he walked, feeling the pride rise in his chest again. He knew his methods would be frowned upon by some. Of course, he knew that. Murder was something he had not imagined himself doing, but it was a means to an end. It was like a weed. You could cut it down or poison it, but there was always a chance it would grow back. The best thing to do was to rip it out at the roots. Kill it once and for all.

"Please," Mariah begged. "Please, I have a family. I have children."

"You should have thought about that," Walter warned. "You brought all of this on yourself, so you have no one to blame."

"I brought what on myself," Mariah moaned. She stopped walking and let her body go dead.

Walter let go of her, and she dropped to the ground with a soft thud. She quickly grabbed Walter’s legs.

"Please! Please! Tell me what I have done, and I will make it right. I’m sorry, I really am! I’ll do better! Just tell me what I must do, and I’ll do it."

Walter kicked her hands off his pants. "It’s too late for that." He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

"No, please!" Mariah begged.

Walter was becoming annoyed to hear her beg repeatedly. Tessa might have run from him, but that meant he didn't have to deal with her whimpering and begging.

"What did I do? What did I do that was so bad? You must have the wrong person. I won’t tell anyone about this; you have my word."

Water almost laughed. Of course, she would tell people. He might have been a fool on one previous occasion in his life, but he was not an idiot.

"Do you know how many people complain about you?" Walter asked. "We should treat our elders with more care and attention, but when they are in their greatest need and most pain, you treat them like dirt. You are supposed to help people, to heal them, but you have failed at that. You only add to the pain and suffering, but not for much longer."

"No, there have been cutbacks at the hospital," Mariah moaned, becoming optimistic that she could convince him. "You have no idea how hard the job is. I want to help people, and I do help them. Please, let me go, and I will return to helping them. I will be better this time."

Walter sighed. "Mariah, you don't get it, do you? Even if I could take you back home now, I would not be able. You have seen too much, so you must die. Now, take a look around you and try to enjoy what little of your life you have left. You will die, Mariah, but on my time. Please don't annoy me so much that I have to kill you before it is time. I don't like to have my hand forced. Do you understand?"

Mariah didn't answer.

"I shall take that as a yes. You have caused so much trouble for those around you. Please don’t cause any more."

***

The truck bumped up and down as John drove down the dirt road. Five minutes ago, they had passed the small ranch house, and the dirt track wound back and forth in the shallow valley.

Kelsey would have urged John to drive faster, but he was already at top speed. It was not top speed for the truck, but it was as fast as he could go without spinning out on the corners. They shared the silence, neither daring to talk.

An APB was out for the truck, all available officers were scouring the town, a team was at Walter’s house, both searching it and waiting for him to return, and officers had been sent to the closest access points to the prairies from the town. John and Kelsey had to get there as quickly as they could to stop him or turn around and head back to town if he was not there.

An explosion of joy hit Kelsey in the chest, and the words didn't come out of her mouth when she opened it. She could only point and gasp. She didn't need words. John saw it, too: a black truck with the Ridley’s Grocers logo and lettering on the side. It was not identical to Samuel Kerr’s truck, but they shared a passing resemblance.

John floored the accelerator for the last straight part of the road, the truck roaring, then slammed on the brakes thirty yards from the black truck, coming to a stop just in front of it.

There was no one in the driver’s seat, and Kelsey knew there would be no one in the cargo area, but they needed to be thorough.

"Check in the back," Kelsey ordered.

"Where are you—"

John didn't get a chance to finish. Kelsey leaped out of the truck and ran. She ran from all her problems, her entire focus on just one problem: catching the killer.

Kelsey looked around as she ran, never looking back. Time was of the essence. A part of her told her to keep on running. No matter what happened, she should keep on running until no one can catch her and her problems are far behind her.

There you are!

Kelsey spotted them up ahead and to her right. She couldn’t make them out, but there were two figures close together. It had to be them.

Her heart pounded. It was beautiful and tragic. The surroundings were majestic as she ran toward the killer and his victim. The ground was soft below her feet, the wind made her hair dance as it rushed by, and the smell was intoxicating—it brought thoughts of picnics and countryside walks.

The prairies were the land of solitude and nature, and death was in the middle of it all.

Walter saw Kelsey coming and grabbed his victim, using her as a shield. Kelsey drew her gun as she came to a stop. She did not feel out of breath.

"Let her go," Kelsey ordered.

Walter didn’t have a visible weapon. One arm was around Mariah, and the other was holding the single prairie rose.

"I have heard people talking about you," Walter said. "They say good things. You don't have to worry about any of this, Special Agent Hawk. We are on the same team."

Mariah looked terrified. She did not look hurt, but her hands were tied. She did not make a sound, but her eyes pleaded with Kelsey to save her.

"No, we are not on the same team," Kelsey said. She kept the gun trained on Walter. She would take him down if needed, but she wouldn’t risk hurting Mariah, and she still could not be sure that Walter didn't have a weapon.

"I am ridding the world of the bad elements," Walter said. "You can leave me to finish my work."

"Let her go," Kelsey ordered in an even tone.

"This will be over very soon, and we can all return to town," Walter said.

"Walter, what do you think happens next?" Kelsey asked.

Walter frowned slightly. "I am doing good in the world. I know you will not arrest me. I will kill her and return to town, and I will root out the other bad elements for you and the entire force."

"Let her go," Kelsey told him.

"You don’t need to watch this," Walter suggested. He looked down briefly before looking back at Kelsey with a smile. "Unless you want to, of course. Perhaps people will think twice before disturbing our peace."

John arrived beside Kelsey, out of breath, holding his gun pointed at the killer.

"Let her go," Kelsey ordered.

"I know you have to pretend because you are a cop," Walter stated. "Is he one of the bad ones?" Walter shifted his eyes to John and then back to Kelsey. "We can take care of him too."

"Let her go," Kelsey repeated. She readied her gun, seeing there was no reasoning with the man. She did not want to shoot him, but she would.

"I’ll take care of this one, and you can take care of your partner," Walter said.

John sprung into action first as Walter grabbed Mariah around the neck with both hands, pushing her forward like a human shield.

Mariah gasped and choked, her mouth hanging open.

John rounded Walter on one side, holding his gun but lowering it. His first instinct was not to shoot, but he was ready to. As soon as he came upon Walter, Walter thrust Mariah forward, releasing the choke hold. John quickly dropped his gun in fear of letting off a bullet.

Kelsey could not see a weapon in John’s hands, and she holstered her gun, not wanting to enter the chaos with an itchy trigger finger.

Walter grabbed Mariah by the back of her shirt collar and yanked her back hard. John reached for her, and Walter threw his free fist, knocking John off balance. Walter tried to grab Mariah around the neck again, not seeing Kelsey as a threat as she came for him.

Kelsey slammed her elbow down onto Walter’s arm, breaking his hold with Mariah. She kicked Walter in the chest, knocking him back. Then, she grabbed Mariah by the shoulder and threw her toward John.

Walter stumbled, but he didn't fall. He dug his foot into the ground and leaped forward, slamming into Kelsey and sending them both tumbling. They both went head over heels once before Walter landed on top of her with his hands around her neck.

Kelsey brought up her knee with as much force as she could into Walter’s groin, and the grip loosened. He groaned and would have collapsed on top of her if John hadn't grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him off.

Kelsey got to her feet, breathing heavily. Mariah was kneeling on the ground sobbing. Kelsey rubbed her neck.

John threw Walter face-first to the ground and cuffed him.

"You are safe!" Kelsey called over to Mariah. "You are safe."

EPILOGUE

Kelsey flexed her shoulders as she walked toward the hospital's main entrance. She was put on edge when she felt someone grab her arm but relaxed when she saw it was John.

"Oh, hey," she said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine," John said. "I just got done with the Peters family. The kids don't know what happened, but apart from being a little shaken up by the event, Mariah is doing fine. She’s been checked over, and he didn't hurt her at all. Even the bindings on her wrists and ankles were done carefully. I don't know about psychological damage, but she is fine physically."

"That’s great news," Kelsey said. "It’s a tragedy for any of the victims to have died, but Mariah has a family at home. I’m glad we could get her home to them."

Kelsey had been thinking a lot about what she needed to do next to protect her family.

"How about Walter Ridley?" Kelsey asked. "I have a feeling he will cooperate fully, thinking he has done nothing wrong."

"Yeah, exactly that," John said. "I think they are still taking his formal statement now. He’s giving them everything: exact times of death, how long he surveyed the victims for, why he targeted them, where he heard about them, potential killing spots, and so much more. He is practically writing a novel at the police station. He firmly believes he’s not going to jail. I don't get it at all. I’ve dealt with a few psychopaths now, but not someone this delusional."

"He’s dangerous, and he will go to jail," Kelsey said.

"Yeah, I know," John said.

There was more that he was not saying.

"You didn't come here just for that, did you?" Kelsey asked.

Please don't tell me to run or hide or do something else. My mind is made up.

"No, I came for… I needed to do this." John leaned in, took Kelsey by the shoulders, and kissed her.

Kelsey had not been expecting it, and the kiss took her by surprise, her body tensing. But, as his lips moved on hers, she melted. She didn't want or need the kiss with everything going on, but now that she was kissing John, she hungered for more. She felt her desire rise, and she clung to him.

He muddled her feelings and desires, and it wasn’t something she could deal with.

She didn’t break the kiss, but as soon as it ended, she turned to flee.

"I can’t do this right now," she stammered.

John grabbed her arm again to stop her. "I had to do that. I don't know what you are planning, but you are not in this alone, okay? Just please think about what you have here. We can fight this together—you know how far I will go for you."

"I know," Kelsey said, shaking her arm from his grip. She placed her hand on his cheek. "You’ve made everything so easy for me."

And so hard! I need to make a decision based on what is best for us all, not on what my heart wants.

Kelsey turned and left while she still could. She looked back to see John standing and watching her. It felt like a goodbye.

She entered the hospital and wiped her tears as she strode down the long, white, sterile corridor. She erased thoughts of him from her mind—if she let herself think of John, it would be all she could think of. Kelsey paused when she got to her sister’s room. If she told John, he would stop her. She couldn’t let that happen.

Kelsey put on her best smile and entered the room.

Erica was sitting up in the bed, staring at the wall. She continued to look at the wall until Kelsey sat back down by the bed, and then she turned to look at Kelsey.

"Oh, there you are. I didn't see you come in."

Kelsey smiled.

"I have these," Erica said, picking up the pills from the table by the bed. "They say they will stop me from being as crazy as a coconut, but we are experimenting with the dose."

Erica winked at her sister, and Kelsey burst out laughing. She took her sister’s hand and held on tight. John wasn’t the only person making the decision a hard one. Kelsey took a quick look at the clock. It would have to happen soon.

"You sound happier," Kelsey said.

"I’m pretty sure it’s the pills," Erica said, winking again. "It’s like… it’s like… it’s like I have a curtain that has dropped down in my mind. I can still feel all the pain and hurt behind the curtain, and it will always be there, but I don't have to look at it. Does that make sense?"

"Compared to some of the things I have been through, it makes more sense than a lot of things. I like seeing you like this, Erica. You don't deserve to be in pain anymore."

"You’re leaving, aren’t you?" Erica said, taking hold of Kelsey’s hand and squeezing it tight.

"I have to," Kelsey replied. "I’ll be gone for a while."

"For how long?" Erica asked.

"I don't know, but as soon as I can return for you, I will."

"What about John?" Erica asked.

"What about him?"

"Oh, come on." Erica broke into a smile.

It was contagious, and Kelsey smiled, too. "I don't know. I can't just stay because I have feelings for him. When I come back for you, I’ll see where I stand with him. I hope he will forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye, but I think he knew."

"I’ll talk to him," Erica said.

Kelsey laughed again. Everything felt so normal after how her sister had been that it was hard not to laugh. She felt the defiance rise inside again, and she wanted to change her plans and stay by Erica’s bed, sleeping in the chair.

"Look after him for me," Kelsey said. "Although, I’m sure I will see him sooner or later. The big goofball is probably going to come after me."

"That must mean he likes you," Erica teased.

Kelsey stood up, then bent down, and kissed her sister on the forehead. The longer she talked to her sister, the harder it would be to leave.

"I waited twenty years to see you again," Erica said. "I can wait a little longer."

Kelsey smiled and then kissed her sister on the forehead again. "Yeah, she agreed. Kelsey squeezed her sister’s hand again, holding back the tears. She took one last look at Erica and then left.

Only when she was back in the corridor did she let the tears flow. The tears blinded her, but she was familiar enough with the way out of the hospital that she didn't need to see. Kelsey strode straight to her car, checking over her shoulder to make sure she was not being followed.

She got in, started it, and pulled out of the parking lot. She made her way to the main road heading out of town. Kelsey glanced in the rearview mirror as she drove through the impending darkness of dusk to ensure she was not being tailed. She drove toward the outskirts of town.

She turned on the blinker when she saw the sign informing her she was at the town limits. A lump rose in her throat. She pulled into the small gas station parking lot and parked beside the black sedan.

As soon as she pulled up, two men in black suits emerged. Kelsey took a deep breath and then got out of her car.

Kelsey held her hands out in front of her, her wrists touching and her palms facing up.

"Okay, you can arrest me," she told the FBI agents.

NOW AVAILABLE!

DEAD OF NIGHT

(A Kelsey Hawk FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Seven)

Tough and brilliant FBI special agent 30-year-old Kelsey Hawk is relocated to the desolate and unforgiving landscape of small town North Dakota, to which she’d vowed to never return, when a diabolical game unfolds within the merciless badlands. Victims abandoned in a sinister labyrinth must find salvation or face their end. Can Kelsey navigate nature's deadly puzzle before she becomes part of a macabre collection?

 “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

DEAD OF NIGHT is book #7 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!

“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

“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

“Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

“WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

“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.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

“Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

“Extremely well written, and well worth buying and reading. I can't wait to read book two!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

DEAD OF NIGHT

(A Kelsey Hawk FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Seven)

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); and the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five 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

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

DEAD INSIDE (Book #1)

DEAD RECKONING (Book #2)

DEAD TO ME (Book #3)

DEAD SILENCE (Book #4)

DEAD TO DAWN (Book #5)

DEAD END (Book #6)

DEAD OF NIGHT (Book #7)

DEAD CALM (Book #8)

DEAD AND GONE (Book #9)

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)

Table of 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

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

EPILOGUE