D E A D

Q U I E T

(A Kelsey Hawk Mystery—Book 12)

K a t e   B o l d

Kate Bold

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

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

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

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

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

The sun had not yet risen over the farm, and the sky was a dark, inky purple, almost black. Tom Wheeler drove his old, brown pickup truck toward the rising sun. The small sliver of orange-gold on the horizon was not his destination. The two looming shadows were cutting chunks from the impending sunrise.

Tom knew the roads like the back of his hand and could have turned off his headlights as he drove and still known the way by the shadowy landmarks and his innate sense of the layout of the farm. He didn't turn off the headlights.

Tom Wheeler was a farmer, and he had toiled the land for as long as he could remember, filling the two silos over and over with grain, and before the second was built, repeatedly filling the first. He had raised cattle, chickens, sheep, you name it. Sheep were sheared for wool, cows milked, and eggs collected from chickens. He had treated the animals when sick and processed them for meat at the end of their lives. As a farmer, he had done it all.

So, he was not surprised that when he brought his truck to a stop, there were tears in his eyes. He was shocked to cry for the first time in years but not surprised. Tom took a moment to wipe his eyes with his shirt sleeve.

"Get a hold of yourself, Tom."

He was retiring and not dying, but that felt the same in many ways. He’d known fellow farmers who had retired, and some had planned what to do afterward, some hobby or activity to keep the mind active and the body moving. That was the key. Life for a farmer after retirement was not one of idle relaxation; that was the killer of those who had worked hard their entire life. Tom still didn't have a plan for the week after or the weeks that followed.

For now, he had something to do. The final preparations were to be made before the realtors did their thing, and the deal was done. So, Tom had beaten the dawn awake and was engaging in one of the more glamorous jobs of farm life: ensuring there were no dead animals in any buildings.

That task began at the buildings farthest from the farmhouse—the two-grain silos. Then, he would work his way back through the large barn, the equipment shed, the tool shed, the greenhouse, and the smaller sheds by the house.

Tom switched off the engine, killing the headlights and plunging the grain silos into darkness. He grabbed the flashlight from the passenger seat and switched it on as he exited the vehicle. He pointed the light at the first grain silo, cutting through the darkness and bouncing off the dull metal. It was the newer of the two, metal over wood.

A crack of a twig to Tom’s right sent him spinning and aiming the flashlight like a gun. He was used to the noises of the farm, but they still caught him off guard. He pointed the light at the long grass, swiftly moving a foot to the side, then switching back to cast the light the other way.

Tom stopped when the eyes reflected the light, reading two ovals of bright silver in the grass. The red fox looked back at him for a few seconds before turning and running off. Tom smiled. He didn't believe in luck or coincidence, but something about the red fox felt good. Tom swung the flashlight back toward the metal silo and headed for it.

The small door at the front of the silo was unlocked. Tom pulled it open, and the sweet smell of years of grain and seed wafted out. He shone the flashlight inside, sticking his head in and running the light around the bottom curve of the interior for dead animals. The place was empty.

Tom had not often looked inside the empty silo. When it was empty and needed cleaned, the farmhands took care of it, and when it was filled with grain, he would take the stairs that wound around the exterior and look down into the interior. Still, it filled him with nostalgia and emptiness. The silo would be filled again, but not by his hand.

He took a moment, looking inside the empty silo that he had perhaps only looked inside once before. Then, he moved on to the next one, the older wooden one. The recent heat wave in the area was historic, and Tom also wanted to check for any damage. There had been a decent amount of rain and then extreme heat. That wouldn't affect the metal silo, but it could cause damage to the wooden one.

He found the door in the darkness and pulled it open. It took a little more effort to open it, but not much more. The same sweet graininess wafted out, mixed with a woodiness from the structure. There was a third smell that he couldn't quite place.

Tom shone his light around the inside edge of the silo interior, and a shadow in the middle of the empty interior caught his eye. He shone the flashlight on it but couldn’t quite work out what it was. At first glance, it looked like a bundle of rags.

He stepped into the silo, letting the door swing shut behind him. He pointed his flashlight at the rags as he walked toward them. The smell came to him. There was a dead animal in the rags. The only thing he could think of was that someone had carried the injured animal into the silo and left it for some reason.

Tom stopped. He saw a face. Not an animal face but a human face. At one end of the pile of rags was a shriveled face looking up toward the hole in the top of the silo. Tom instinctively looked to where the mummified corpse looked, staring up into the brightening black sky as the stars twinkled their last.

He looked back down at the dead body in his silo, and a shiver ran through him as if the ghost of the deceased had passed through his body. His hands shook, and the flashlight tumbled from one, the corpse animated for a second in the spinning light.

Tom ran for the door. He would have screamed if he could catch his breath.

CHAPTER ONE

"The town is quieter," Erica said. "I haven’t seen them around in a while."

"We have the upper hand now," Kelsey said. "It’s only a matter of time before the FBI has enough to take them down."

"Is it really happening?" Erica asked.

"Something will come of this," Kelsey said. "I thought it was over when I got you back, but it won't be over until we take the entire organization down, and to do that, we need the FBI. I can't do this by myself, not even with John at my side."

"That’s good," Erica said, nodding her head jerkily. "I don't want you in any danger. I still… have flashbacks of when they came to our house. What was I? Nine?"

"Yeah, you were nine, and I was ten." Kelsey finished pouring the coffee and took the two mugs over to the breakfast bar to sit with her little sister.

"I don’t really remember anything from when they took me, but I remember the feeling. I know how dangerous they are, Kelsey, and I don't want you going after them alone."

"I know," Kelsey agreed. "I wanted to at first, but this is not a problem I can solve by myself. It’s not a problem I can solve at all. I’ve done my part, and we wait for the FBI to do the rest. Philip Guppy is the first domino, and he’s fallen. They just need to get to the next domino, and the next, and they all fall eventually.”

Kelsey had secretly housed Philip Guppy in her apartment for over a week, hiding him for the organization that had once killed her parents and kidnapped her sister, all to protect her sister from being taken from her a second time. That was their mistake. Philip was a counterfeiter and didn't know a lot, but he knew some things.

When they returned for him and took him again, he contacted Kelsey and asked for her help in exchange for information. She and John tracked him down and brought him in, delivering him to the safety of the FBI.

Now, they waited.

"Do you remember much of Mom and Dad?" Erica asked.

"Yeah, I remember some," Kelsey admitted.

"I know I remember some things, but it’s like they are locked away," Erica said.

Kelsey reached out and took her sister’s hand. "You’ve been through a lot of trauma. They had you so drugged up for twenty years that you didn't know who you were. It’s taken time for you to remember yourself. Those memories will come back in time. I’m sure of it."

"Can you tell me about them again?" Erica asked. "Something you haven’t told me yet."

Kelsey thought about it, smiling at the memories of her parents alive and well before they were brutally slaughtered in their home. Kelsey had been lucky. She had hidden when they came, and the intruders had left with Erica before they found Kelsey. It was a blessing and a curse. She spent twenty years believing her sister was also dead after they planted a fake body gained from the morgue so Erica would never be looked for. If Kelsey had been found, maybe she would have been with her sister all those years. Maybe she would have been brainwashed enough that she wouldn’t know her sister anymore.

"Do you remember Dad reading to us?" Kelsey asked.

Erica grimaced and shook her head.

"We shared a room together from the day you were born. You were in a crib for a long time and then a bed like mine, and I remember it being so much fun to share a room with you. We’d get wrapped up under our blankets after brushing our teeth, and Dad would come in and read us a bedtime story. I don't remember what stories he would read, but I do remember the sound of his voice.

"It always felt so warm. I remember being warm under the blankets, and when he spoke, everything got warmer. He would sit on your bed because you were younger, and he would read to us for maybe fifteen minutes. I remember one story that he read over and over about a baby bunny that had lost its mother and went searching for her. You really liked that one. Then, when he was done, he would kiss you on the head, then kiss me on the head, and say goodnight at the door."

Erica smiled as she listened to Kelsey tell the story, and Kelsey saw the same smile in her as an adult as she had as a kid when their father read to them.

"Thanks for being so patient and understanding," Erica said. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Kelsey smiled. "You save me, too. I was aimless before I found you, and I don't need any patience and understanding with you, Erica. You’re my sister, and I will care for you and protect you to the ends of the earth."

"Maybe I’ll get to do the same for you one day," Erica suggested.

Kelsey shook her head slowly. "You were abused for twenty years. You’ve paid your debt to whatever it is we pay our cosmic debts to. You deserve happiness in your life, and you never need to worry about caring for me. All I want is you here with me."

"And John?" Erica asked with a smirk.

Kelsey smiled, the joy bubbling to her lips. "Yeah, he’s not so bad to have around."

"How’s it going with him?" Erica asked.

"Really well," Kelsey said. "When I left Lakeview and my fiancé, I wasn’t really in the mood to get into a new relationship, and then I came here to Winchburgh in the middle of North Dakota, and thought it would be the most boring place on the planet, but it’s turned into the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m in love with a good man, I have my sister back, the community is amazing, and I find value in the work I do here."

"And you’re the best there is at it," Erica pointed out.

Kelsey gave a sly smirk. "Well, I try my best."

Erica smiled before drinking her coffee, and in that moment before the mug touched her lips, Kelsey saw genuine happiness. Erica smiled easily now that she had structure and love in her life, but her smile was always guarded, as if she worried it would be taken away. That morning, her smile was the first one to contain unguarded and unbridled joy.

Kelsey smiled more, unable to contain herself. Her happiness was important, but she also valued her sister’s happiness. After what Erica had been through, Kelsey wanted nothing more than for her sister to have an easy and happy life.

"So, that’s what we do?" Erica asked. "We wait for all of this to come to an end?"

"Yes," Kelsey replied. "I’ll help the FBI out where I can, but there’s not much more I can do now. Philip Guppy is officially an informant, and he is cooperating. The information coming from him will be quick, but it will take time to confirm it all. The FBI has to make sure they have all their ducks in a row before they make their move. It’s better if it takes longer, as it means they are doing things right. When they move on this, they take it all down."

Erica sipped her coffee, then returned to her guarded smile. She nodded, her lips tight, as she drank more.

A knock came at the door. Kelsey patted her sister’s hand and then got up to answer it. Kelsey was guarded, too, but not in the same way as Erica was. She had assured her sister they were out of danger, but they might be in the most danger yet. Kelsey and John had been as careful as possible, but the rescue of Philip Guppy had come with risks, and they couldn't be sure what they knew. There was still a chance she, John, and Erica could be targeted.

Kelsey let out a sigh of relief when she saw John through the peephole. Then, with a smile, she opened the door.

"We were just talking about you," Kelsey said.

"Hopefully, you were saying only good things," John replied.

"There are no bad things to say," Kelsey told him. "I just made some coffee. Do you want some?"

"Yeah," John admitted, "but to go. We’re needed."

"What is it this time?"

"They’re not sure yet, but they want us to go over there to consult on the case and see if we can make sense of it," John said.

Kelsey ushered him in while she grabbed a to-go mug to pour some coffee into. "That sounds… interesting? So, they have a dead body? A murder?"

"They think so," John replied. "They’re not entirely sure yet if it is murder or not, but the body was desecrated."

"Desecrated?" Kelsey asked.

"And mummified," John added.

Kelsey stopped pouring the coffee into the cup but quickly started again when she realized she had stopped. "Mummified? Let’s go! If this is a murder and someone is mummifying bodies, it won't only be one. A killer with rituals does not stop at one person. This might not even be the first." Kelsey grabbed her jacket and shoes, hurrying to put them on. "Erica, I’ll call you when I know what’s going on."

Then, she rushed out the door, eager to see the mummification for herself and stop whoever was behind it.

CHAPTER TWO

"Have you heard anything from your FBI contact?" John asked as he drove them to the crime scene in his truck.

"I’ve heard from him, but nothing that puts me at ease," Kelsey admitted. "From what he’s told me, Philip Guppy is cooperating, and the FBI will do all they can to protect him. He’s in a secure facility, guarded around the clock, and he’s feeding them as much information as he can."

"But they need the time to check it all out?" John noted.

"Yes, exactly." Kelsey reached for the air-con controls and turned up the fan while turning the dial as far to the left as possible to where the blue line was the thickest. "They don’t want to bring in anyone he’s named just yet in case it tips off those higher up. And each piece of information he gives needs to be checked out until they are reasonably certain it’s factual. That means talking with informants and undercover cops. It’s a long process."

"But one that’s finally coming to an end," John said. "It might take time, but we are in the endgame now."

"I hope so," Kelsey said. "They won't go down without a fight, but at least they’ll be fighting the FBI and not us. Thank you for putting yourself in the firing line and helping me bring in Philip Guppy. We don't have a lot of power to fight them, but we were the first domino. We give a small push, and even the biggest will fall."

Kelsey rubbed her neck. Even with the air conditioning on, it was still hot in the truck.

"We should talk about the future when the FBI have them," John said. "I’ve really enjoyed our last few months together, and I’m not young anymore. I don't want to wait for the things that will make me happy."

Kelsey smiled, and her breathing got a little heavier. Her heart THUMP-thumped in her chest. She had thought a lot about the future, and every scenario she could think of included John.

"Is it getting hot in here?" Kelsey asked with a chuckle.

"It definitely is, and while I’d like to think that was all down to my talk of wanting to be with you, I suspect the historic heatwave has something to do with it."

"You definitely make any truck ride hotter and more pleasurable," Kelsey noted.

John laughed through his nose and reached out to take Kelsey’s hand. He squeezed it firmly, keeping a hold of it as he drove the farm road.

For the first time in a while, the crime scene they were traveling toward was not far from Winchburgh. Kelsey looked out the window as they drove, the air distorted by the heat swaying lazily. There was no visible livestock in the fields—they must have retreated to the shade of the barn. The grass was pale and yellowing after only two weeks of no rain. The heat took its toll on everything and everyone.

When he reached the farm's entrance, John slowed down and drove around to the side of the farmhouse, where most of the vehicles were parked. When he turned off the ignition and the air stopped flowing, the heat started to take hold. When they opened the truck doors, the heat hit them in the face like a wet towel.

Kelsey stepped out into the morning, wading through the air as if it were water. She hadn’t gone far when she felt beads of sweat appearing on her brow. Detective Waters left a small group of people to talk with them. They hadn’t worked with the detective on a case but knew him through their community outreach. He was very involved in his town.

The detective wore pants and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. John had opted for a short-sleeved shirt rather than a long-sleeved one, putting his arms on show. John was a muscular man, handsome and powerful. He could be commanding when he needed to, a skill that was useful in the past when leading troops in Afghanistan.

"Thanks for coming," Detective Waters said, extending a hand.

John shook it first, then Kelsey.

Kelsey pushed the black hair that was sticking to her brow behind her ear before dropping her arm back to her side.

"What are we looking at?" Kelsey asked.

"Maybe it’s better if you come and take a look," Detective Waters suggested.

"All right, lead the way," John said.

Detective Waters nodded toward an older man in jeans and a checkered shirt as he walked.

"That’s Tom Wheeler," the detective explained. "He’s the one who found the bodies this morning before sunrise. He’s run this farm for going on forty years, and his father before that. He’s due to sell it, but that’ll be put on hold for now. Awful thing to happen to him."

"What was he doing out so early?" John asked.

"Surveying the property for dead animals," Detective Waters said. "He was worried that the recent heat might have driven animals into his buildings, and he didn't want the potential buyers to see that. It’s expected on a farm, but it doesn't make the best first impression. Looks like he got more than he bargained for. A lot of us know Tom and can vouch for him. I don't see any reason why he would do this, but then, I don't see any reason why anyone would do this. That’s why we asked for you. I’ve never seen anything like this before."

The detective stopped before a wooden grain silo. He looked inside and called out, "Let's vacate for now, and you can cool down a little and hydrate." He turned back to Kelsey and John. "It's hotter inside the silo, if you can believe that. No breeze, and half a dozen people crammed in there."

Kelsey and John waited until everyone had stepped out—the forensic team removing their hoods and masks to reveal red faces—before they stepped over the wooden plank and through the door.

Detective Waters was right. The heat hit them as soon as they entered, and so did the smell. A staleness hung in the air, mixed in with an earthy paperiness. It was not an unpleasant smell, and that is what made it offensive.

The naked body lay in the middle of the concrete silo floor. There was cracking under their feet as they stepped on stray dried kernels of corn and oats. Kelsey’s stomach clenched when she got closer.

The face wasn't grotesque or contorted, only sunken and paper-like. The eyes and mouth were closed, too. But the cheeks were hollow, and the skin wrinkled, but not by age. The skin had a yellow tinge as if jaundiced, and it was papery, almost translucent. The skin was similar all over the unclothed body, pulled tight to the muscles and bones below, ready to tear at the slightest touch

"Looks like dried-out chicken skin," John noted.

A brown blanket lay to the left of the body. It was new, in good condition, and unsoiled. To the right were four clay jars, each with a different animal head as the lid: human, baboon, jackal, and falcon.

"The jars were against his body, two at each side, and the blanket covered him," Detective Waters said, joining them inside the silo. "The blanket had come off enough to display the face by the time Tom Wheeler found him. He was placed here purposely, but for what reason?"

Kelsey stepped closer, looking down at the body. The head was positioned to look straight up at the small opening in the top of the silo. The legs were together, the arms folded across the chest. The man's palms lay flat on his chest, one covering his heart on the left and the other symmetrically placed on the right side.

A stitched wound cut through the torso from the navel to where the hands crossed.

"Canopic jars," Kelsey said.

"What jars?" John asked.

"They are Egyptian," Kelsey said. "Just like the mummification. Whoever did this removed the organs from the body post-mortem—at least, I hope it was post-mortem."

"So, the organs are in the jars?" John asked.

"Some of them," Kelsey replied. "Imnesty, the human-headed jar, protects the liver and is guarded by the goddess Issi. Hapi is the baboon, the lungs protected by the goddess Nephthys. Duamutef is the jackal-headed jar, the goddess Neith protecting the stomach. Finally, Qebehseneuf, the falcon-head jar, protecting the intestines."

"Wait, so the stomach and intestines are in those jars?" John asked.

"And the liver and lungs," Kelsey said. "The ancient Egyptians believed that a person couldn't be reborn in the afterlife without them. So, whoever did this knows their mythology and the practices that go along with it."

"Someone went to a lot of trouble to do this," Detective Waters said.

"The jars are specialized," Kelsey said, thrown into action. "They were either specially ordered or made. I want to know where they come from or who would be capable of crafting them. They are professionally made."

"I’ll find out who’s local," Detective Waters said.

Kelsey crouched down by the body. She almost wanted to reach out and touch the body out of morbid curiosity—the body didn't look real with the leathery skin as if it had been crafted along with jars. She looked closer at the skin and a white crystal on the upper arm.

"Salt," Kelsey told them. "I think the body was killed and dried somewhere else. They used salt to speed up the process and then transferred the body here."

"Why?" Detective Waters asked.

"I don't know," Kelsey said. "It suggests that they chose this grain silo for a reason. They did go to a lot of trouble to do this and chose the silo as his final resting place. Detective Waters, I also want you to look into any salt orders over the past six months. They would have needed enough to partially or fully cover the body. And the killer will have needed a place to dry the body for at least a few days. Maybe a week or so. The heat will have helped, but this was planned. The killer knew it would take time to get the body to this stage."

"Clay jars, salt, a facility," Detective Waters confirmed. "Got it."

Kelsey wiped her brow again. It was almost unbearable to be in the silo, and only a small part of that was down to the mummified dead body.

"I want to find out who he is, and then I want to talk to any family," Kelsey said to John. "We move quickly on this one. This was planned. It took time. We don't know if they have another body in the process of mummification. Detective Waters, get a picture of the face out to local law enforcement. I don't really want the picture circulating, but someone must recognize him."

"I’ll do it now," the detective said.

"What do we do?" John asked.

"We hope they come back with something soon because I have an unsettling feeling that more death is to come.”

CHAPTER THREE

The body was informally identified as Michael Reynolds within the hour, and Kelsey and John hastily set off to speak with the person listed as his emergency contact: his ex-wife, Melanie Crock.

"This doesn't feel like someone who has a score to settle," Kelsey noted.

"No?" John asked as he drove into the small town of Dunwich.

"If you want someone dead, you do that. If this were a crime of passion or a score to settle, the cause of death would be obvious, right? You don't go to all that trouble to kill someone if it’s about the person. To me, this is about what came after death more than the death itself. We can't rule out that the victim was unknown to the killer and was chosen randomly. If that’s the case, I would hazard a guess that Michael kept to himself and didn't have a large social circle. He must have been missing for a week, maybe more. There’s no missing person report filed."

"So, what are we looking at?" John asked.

"Someone who is obviously interested in Egyptian burial practices and mummification," Kelsey replied. "It is significant that they left the body in the silo. If they wanted the practice, they could have kept the body where they dried it out with salt, but they didn't. They put it on show, knowing it would be found at some point. Perhaps there’s a connection to the grain silo. Seeds that can give life. Some correlation between life and death. I don't know yet."

John slowed as he indicated to turn onto a side street. "It still creeps me out to think about it. I mean, it was like flaky pastry or old tattered strips of paper. When we were in the silo, I was worried that he was going to extend his arms up and then sit up and come after me."

"You’ve been watching too many movies," Kelsey said.

"So, what about the brain and heart?" John asked. "Ancient Egyptians didn't remove the heart after death? Did they not pull the brain out with a long hook or something?"

"The brain? Yes," Kelsey said. "They didn't value it, so they would remove it, and it wouldn’t be included with the body. There was no sign on the victim that the brain had been removed. If the killer didn't value it either, maybe they didn't see any point in removing it. Or maybe they don't have that skill down yet. As for the heart, that was very important. They believed that the heart was weighed by Anubis against a feather. Live a good life, and your heart will be light, and you will be let into the afterlife. Live a bad life, and your heart weighs you down. It was devoured by a monster, ending your existence."

"Whoever did this must have a heavy heart," John said. "It’s counterintuitive if they believe in this stuff."

"Unless they believe they are doing some good by mummifying the bodies." Kelsey rubbed her forehead. "I wish I could say body, but something tells me there are more out there or coming."

John shivered and then pulled the truck to a stop. "We’re here."

Kelsey looked at the modest house before them. She was not sure what to expect, but what they had seen so far was grotesque and performative. The house where Melanie Crock lived was understated and altogether normal. It reminded Kelsey that the person they were looking for likely operated within the normal confines of the life they all knew.

"Let’s see if she can point us in the right direction," Kelsey said. "After breaking the news to her."

Kelsey and John exited the black truck and walked to the front door of the house together. John knocked, and a middle-aged woman answered the door. She wore a long, flowery dress that was purposely oversized. Her brown hair had grey streaks, and she wore thick, brown glasses—thick frames, not lenses. She immediately came across as entirely pleasant and reserved.

"Melanie Crock?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes," Melanie replied.

Kelsey took out her badge. "I’m Special Agent Hawk, and my partner, Deputy Sheriff Gallant. Do you mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?"

"The FBI?" Melanie questioned softly. "What’s going on?"

"It would be better if we could come in and talk with you," Kelsey said.

"Yes, of course," Melanie replied. "Yes, please come in."

Melanie led them into the house, through to the living room. The interior looked freshly decorated and neat. There were a few personal touches to add some character to the home, but they were kept to a minimum, as if Melanie didn’t want to go overboard. A small frog figure sat beside the books on the bookshelf, and a handmade mug provided decoration on the mantle above the electric fireplace.

"Did you make that yourself?" Kelsey asked, pointing to the mug.

"Yes, last year," Melanie said. "My local bookstore hosts nights where you create something. I have done painting, ceramics, cross-stitch, and a bunch more. This was the only one good enough to display." Melanie’s tone suggested she didn't believe the mug was good enough but was the best of a bad bunch.

"Do you work with ceramics a lot?" Kelsey asked. "Or clay?"

"That was the only time I did anything like that," Melanie replied.

"Do you know anyone who works with clay?" Kelsey asked.

"With clay?" Melanie asked. "No, I don't think so. What is all of this about?"

"Miss Crock, when was the last time you saw your ex-husband?" John asked.

"Michael?" Melanie asked. "Has something happened to him? Is he in trouble?"

"We’re sorry to have to tell you this, but Michael Reynolds was found dead this morning," John said.

Melanie immediately covered her mouth with her hand, and her eyes widened a little. She shook her head, unable to say anything.

"Come and sit down," Kelsey told her.

Kelsey took Melanie by the arm and guided her over to the chair.

"Wh-what happened?" Melanie asked as she sat down. She looked from Kelsey to John.

"We believe he was killed," John confirmed.

Melanie’s brows immediately furrowed, and her eyes tightened to become almond-shaped and thin.

"What?" Melanie’s bottom lip trembled, and her hands shook as she took it in. "I don't understand. Who would want to kill him?"

"That’s what we hope to find out," John said. He paced around the room a little as Melanie tried to hold it all together.

"We know this is hard, but we will need you to formally identify the body," Kelsey said. She didn't want to think about Melanie's reaction to seeing her deceased ex-husband in his current state. They couldn't even keep his injuries covered. She would have to see his face and the dried-out skin.

"I have to identify him." Melanie's eyes lit with a glimmer of hope. "So, you’re not sure it’s him? That means—"

"Three separate law enforcement personnel identified him," Kelsey told her. "We are sure it’s him, but we will need you to formally identify the body. I’m sorry."

"He would never hurt anyone," Melanie muttered.

"When was the last time you saw your ex-husband?" John asked.

"It was a long time ago," Melanie replied, still in a daze. "Maybe three months ago. We got together for coffee. We talk every so often, but not for very long. I think I called him two weeks ago, maybe ten days ago."

"How was he when you called him?" Kelsey asked.

"He was fine," Melanie said. "I mean, he was Michael. He didn’t always have the most positive outlook, and he could be depressing at times, but he was never going to change that. It’s part of the reason why we split."

"When was that?" Kelsey asked.

"Eighteen months ago," Melanie confirmed.

"You’re still his emergency contact," John pointed out.

"I wish I could tell you it was some romantic notion and that he thought we would get back together, but we both knew it was over, and we made our peace with that."

"Is there anything you can tell us about him that might help us find who did this?" Kelsey asked. "Anything at all."

"There’s not really much to tell," Melanie replied. "Michael was always very stuck in his ways. He’s a history professor at the university, and I know the faculty there. None of them would want to hurt Michael or have it in them to kill anyone. They must have chosen the oldest people possible to personally teach history."

Melanie chuckled at the joke that sounded well-practiced, then quickly stopped when she remembered what they were talking about.

"He didn’t have anyone that disliked him, and he didn't really rub people the wrong way," Melanie clarified. "He might have been stubborn and had a pessimistic worldview, but you had to really get to know him to see that."

"What did he teach?" Kelsey asked. "Do you know if he taught any Egyptian history?"

"Egyptian history?" Melanie asked with a tilt of her head. "No, he taught American history. Why?"

"We only want to cover all bases," Kelsey said. "You mentioned that he had the same routine every day."

John gestured to his pocket to indicate he was getting a call and then stepped out of the room. Kelsey sat down on the sofa opposite Melanie Crock's seat.

"Yes, he didn't usually deviate," Melanie replied. "Not when we were together, anyway, but from what he said when we spoke, he kept his same routine. There was one thing more recently."

"What thing?" Kelsey leaned forward as if she might miss what was said.

"He joined a new group recently, and it surprised me because he never did anything like that."

"Do you know the name of the group or what it was for?" Kelsey asked.

"No," Melanie replied. “He mentioned meeting once a week and talking about… I don't know. He said they talked about life and death, so I suppose it could have been anything."

Kelsey’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of death. "What else did he say about it?"

"That was it," Melanie said, shaking her head. "He was spending more time in the library, doing research. I remember that, but I don’t know if it was connected. It must have been around the same time because I remember hearing that he was doing both, and I found it interesting that he had something more in his life. He did say that. He told me he found more fulfillment. I presume that was because of the group."

"But he didn't mention the specifics of the group? A name, where they met, anything else?" Kelsey asked.

"No. I’m sorry, but we don't ever talk for a long time. It’s more of a check-in to see how we are both doing." Melanie suddenly slumped her shoulders and brought her hands up to her face. "Maybe I should have checked in more. I don’t even remember the last thing we said to each other, but it wasn’t anything affectionate, I know that. It was probably something mundane. How stupid is that?"

"It’s not stupid," Kelsey consoled. "Listen, I’m going to have someone come over and be with you, and they will talk to you about identifying the body. They will be with you every step of the way." And they will be able to prepare you to see your ex-husband much better than I will. "Deputy Gallant and I will keep you updated with the investigation as best we can."

"Thank you," Melanie said sadly. "We haven’t been together for some time, but I loved him."

"I can see that you did. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, please call me." Kelsey gave Melanie her card. "I’m stepping out with my partner, but someone will be here soon to guide you through this."

Melanie stared straight ahead and nodded.

Kelsey hesitantly left the room and went outside to find John, who was not on his call anymore.

"Did you get anything more from her?" John asked.

"It could be nothing, but she suggested that Michael joined a new social group recently, and it was out of character for him. He also spent more time at the library doing research. Both might come to nothing, but we have to follow up on them."

"We have something we need to follow up on first," John said. "The coroner’s office called. They’ve not fully finished the autopsy yet; they found something we need to take a look at, and we should get over there as soon as possible."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Kelsey said.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kelsey got on the phone as John drove them to the coroner’s office.

"Hello?" Detective Waters answered.

"Detective Waters, it’s Special Agent Hawk. How is everything going on your end so far?"

"It’s going," the detective replied. "I have my team calling around to try and find out where the ceramic pots were made, but we haven’t found anything yet. They look too specialized. Either we find out quickly who made them, or we never find out—maybe someone made them at home so they wouldn't be traced. This kill was planned, and they knew the jars would be found. They wouldn’t want them traced if they were smart."

"Which we have to assume they are if they went to so much trouble to mummify someone and leave the body to be found. They wanted us to see their work," Kelsey asked.

"As for the salt, we are chasing up any large orders over the past twelve months and are following up with anyone who bought enough salt to cover a body. We have the opposite problem to the clay pots. With the roads in bad shape over the winter, a lot of government and private companies salt the roads across the state. It might take a lot of salt to cover a body, but in the grand scheme of things, it might not be noticed if it went missing from a large company."

"At least some of the companies must have kept an inventory," Kelsey said. "Check for any reports of missing salt from them, no matter how small."

"You got it," Detective Waters said.

"We’re on our way to see the coroner," Kelsey said. "They might have something for us. We just spoke to the deceased’s ex-wife, and there were some routine changes for the deceased in the time leading up to his death. Michael Reynolds was a history professor at the university, and according to his wife, he was spending more time in the library doing research before taking a recent sabbatical. See if you can find out what he was researching."

"Check what he was researching," Detective Waters confirmed.

"And he had a new social group," Kelsey told him. "Do you have a team at his house?"

"I have two officers searching it right now, looking for anything that might connect to his murder."

"Check for anything connected to a new group," Kelsey suggested. "He must have a laptop or tablet. Go through that. Check any social media, emails, messages, anything. I want to know who he was meeting with. He suddenly changed his routine, and he ended up dead. Coincidences are coincidences until we prove they are not."

"I’ll talk to them now," Detective Waters said.

"Thank you," Kelsey said before saying goodbye and hanging up.

"Do you think he met someone new, and they killed him?" John asked. "Maybe he joined some sort of cult. Michael Reynolds was an educated man, but how many times have we read about educated people lacking common sense or social skills?"

"Yeah, maybe," Kelsey agreed. "He joins a group about Egyptian death practices, and they find out he’s a bit of a loner, and no one will report him missing. We’ll need to check in with the university about that. His ex-wife hadn’t noticed he was missing, and there’s no missing person report on file. Did the university know?"

John turned off into the parking lot and found a spot close to the front of the medical examiner’s building. Kelsey was doing a lot of thinking as she got out of the vehicle. The mummification didn't feel violent, and unless they had missed something on the first viewing of the body, the death didn't seem violent either. He hadn’t been obviously stabbed or shot.

John held the door open for Kelsey to enter and then followed behind. The receptionist welcomed them and called for Dr. Sarah Mitchell, who came to meet them and take them back.

The coroner had long blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail. She wore a white lab coat and black-framed glasses.

"Thank you for coming in," Dr. Mitchell told them. "I won't have my full report for some time, but I wanted you to have as much information as possible at the beginning of this case."

"Thank you; we appreciate it," Kelsey said.

"Right this way," the coroner said, gesturing toward the open office.

Kelsey and John entered and sat down on one side while the coroner sat on the other. She typed on her keyboard before addressing the special agent and detective.

"I like to think I’ve seen everything between the bodies I’ve examined and the cases I read about in school, but this is entirely new to me," the coroner said. "Obviously, made harder by some of the organs being in clay jars."

"It’s the first time I’ve seen something like this, too, and I’ve seen a lot," Kelsey said.

"No doubt, no doubt," Dr. Mitchell said. "Let’s start with the body itself and the mummification." She turned her screen so they could all see the images and clicked through images of the body with close-ups of the skin. "The skin is paper-thin. At some point, it was packed in salt. The timing of the mummification might be important, but I can’t assert that with confidence."

"You mean with the heat wave?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, exactly," the coroner said. "We aren’t able to say how long the body lay in the silo, but from what Tom Wheeler told the police, it could have been anywhere up to two weeks. From what I can see with the body, I would estimate that the body was in the silo for between two days and a week. I can't give a more accurate estimation than that, and it was packed in salt for up to two weeks before that. So, Michael Reynolds was killed anywhere between two to three weeks ago. The lack of moisture in the body makes it hard to establish all of the facts."

"Do we know how he was killed?" John asked.

"Possibly," Dr. Mitchell said. "When we started the autopsy, we looked over every inch of the body. There are no obvious wounds except for the incision in the stomach. He was not shot or stabbed. Now, the dried-out skin makes it almost impossible to find any needle marks, so there is the possibility he was injected with something, but if he was, it didn't kill him. No, I can't say that for sure. I don't believe it’s what killed him, and we found no toxins or poisons in his body, but we have such a long time between death and finding the body that we might not find evidence of poisoning, even if that is how he was killed."

"But you have another theory?" Kelsey asked.

"I do," Dr. Mitchell admitted. "Before we get to that, let’s talk about the body a little more. We are confident that Michael was not restrained at any point, and he didn’t put up a fight. There are no defensive wounds of any sort that we can see. There are no obvious injuries from the person who killed him. When looking at the incision and subsequent stitching across the stomach, I can be sure this is someone who knows what they are doing. I would be sure they have done this before or have a medical background. That extends to the removal of the organs. The incisions made were professionally. The extraction of the organs was done with care and precision."

"The ritual of it is important to the killer," Kelsey said. "They could have just taken the organs out and placed them in the jars and roughly stitched him up, but they believe in what they are doing, and the precision is important."

"Does that mean that what comes after the kill is more important than the kill itself?" John asked.

"I would say it does," Kelsey replied. "The killer spent a lot of time preparing the body and presenting it. If we can figure out who the presentation was for, we get closer to finding them."

"Pinpointing the exact cause of death was hard," Dr. Mitchell told them, "especially with the dehydration, as the symptoms of death overlap. Again, I can't be certain with the state of the body, but I am reasonably sure the victim died of dehydration and starvation."

"The killer held him somewhere and starved him to death?" John asked.

"Either that or the victim did so willingly," the coroner replied. "Perhaps he was held in a room somewhere, but he didn't struggle. He wasn’t bound, and there was no sign he tried to escape. If he tried to get out of a room and he was not restrained, I would expect to see wounds on the hands and feet, but there is nothing."

"So, he could have done this to himself?" Kelsey asked.

"I don't know about that, but the evidence of the body suggests he didn't fight against it. Obviously, someone had to remove the organs and perform the mummification post-mortem."

"You’re sure about the cause of death?" John asked.

"It’s not conclusive, but I am sure," Dr. Mitchell said. "I can show you what brought me to the conclusion if you don't mind looking at some of the images."

John nodded for the coroner to continue.

Dr. Mitchell removed the photos of the body and brought up photos of directed organs. "Obviously, the body has been dried out, so the things we would expect to find with dehydration are already there, like weight loss, loss of elasticity in the skin, sunken cheeks and eye sockets, darkened tongue, brittle hair, and brittle nails. The study of the internal organs gives us a little more information as the salt would draw a lot of moisture from the skin, but not as much from the internal organs, and some of the organs were removed before the body was packed in salt, which does help us."

The screen displayed a photo of the cut-open lungs and a close-up of the direction.

"The lung tissue is dry and a little sticky."

Another photo, this time of the heart.

"We can see muscle breakdown in the heart, which would have happened before death. The heart is slightly smaller than it should be, and we did find lower levels of potassium and sodium in the heart tissue."

Then, photos of the liver and kidneys.

"The liver was fatty and shrunken. This is common with malnutrition, where the body breaks down more fat for energy. The kidneys were also shrunken, and there were elevated levels of waste products in the blood."

Images of the brain.

"The brain was shrunken slightly, but no other signs of trauma or damage."

Finally, the stomach and intestines.

"The stomach was empty. The intestines were shrunken and also empty. No sign of ulcers or any interior damage to either. We were able to test the blood still within the body, helped enormously by the organs contained in the clay jars. There was low potassium, sodium, and magnesium across the board, with elevated ketones as the body broke down fat for sustenance. Elevated creatinine shows kidney failure from dehydration. Everything points toward the deceased not eating or drinking for some time before death."

"If someone was around to remove the organs and dry out the body, we have to assume they forced Michael not to eat or drink," John said.

"One thing to think about," the coroner said, "is the effects of starvation and dehydration. It can be uncomfortable at first, but over time, people report it becoming quite enjoyable. There is an increase in euphoria and hallucinations. If I am right, and he died of dehydration, I don't believe he was in any pain when he did pass."

"It could be the new social group," John said to Kelsey. "If he did get embroiled with some sort of cult, maybe he was convinced to sacrifice himself."

"I hope it’s a lot simpler than that, but I’m starting to think it’s not," Kelsey said. She turned to the coroner. "Thanks for bringing us in to show this to us."

"Of course," Dr. Mitchell said. "If I find anything else, you will be the first person I call."

Kelsey and John said their goodbyes and left the office, heading back to the parked truck. As soon as they got outside, Kelsey's phone rang.

"Special Agent Hawk," she answered.

"We might have something," Detective Waters said. "I just spoke to the librarian at the university, and she said Professor Reynolds was acting strangely before his sabbatical. I can send an officer over to take a statement, but I figured you would want to follow it up."

"I do," Kelsey said. "We’ll head straight there."

CHAPTER FIVE

Kelsey and John strode through the university in search of the library. It wasn’t hard to find, with well-thought-out signs on most of the walls pointing toward all the available departments.

Students milled about, some standing and chatting, others making their way toward class. None of them paid any attention to Kelsey and John. They quickly found the library and entered, heading straight for the desk.

"I’m Special Agent Hawk," Kelsey said, showing her badge. "We’re looking for Elsie Brown."

"Just a second," the woman at the desk said. She got up and went to the door behind, calling into the room beyond.

A few seconds later, an older woman with grey curly hair exited. Her spectacles hung around her neck on a small chain. She wore a long gray skirt and tan turtleneck. She looked exactly how Kelsey expected a librarian to look.

"Elsie?" Kelsey asked.

"I was told to expect you," Elsie said. "Why don't we go and take a seat?"

Elsie led them to a small, vacated common area with comfortable chairs. She gestured for Kelsey and John to sit before she sat herself.

"You spoke with Detective Waters," Kelsey said.

"Yes, I did," Elsie confirmed. "He is such a nice man."

"So, you are aware of the investigation," Kelsey said.

"Yes, I am aware of what is going on. It is so sad that Professor Reynolds is dead. He was also such a nice man, too. He was always very pleasant, even if he didn’t ever say very much. Well, not until right before he left."

"He was on a sabbatical?" John asked.

"Yes, he was," Elsie confirmed. "I don't know what he was on the sabbatical for; you would have to ask the dean about that. Most of the time, it’s to pursue personal projects, but I have heard that some professors take sabbaticals just because they can. I mean, if they are allowed to take them, then why not?"

"You mentioned that Professor Reynolds interacted with you more right before he went on his sabbatical," John said. "What changed?"

"I don't know if anything changed," Elsie admitted. "And I’m not sure if he interacted with many other people. He came to the library to do some research, so I assume that was what his sabbatical was for, and that meant coming after office and class hours, so we would see him in the evening. I work mostly the later shifts, so I was here. I think it was purely coincidental that he spoke to me over anyone else, as I was the person he saw more. Professor Reynolds was known for—not for being reclusive—but for keeping to himself."

"What was he researching?" Kelsey asked.

"It’s curious that he was found dead because he was researching death practices," Elsie said.

"Death practices?" John asked.

"Yes," the librarian confirmed. "Practices from all over the world, popular and unpopular, and different customs related to various worldwide cultures. Religion and the ideas of death within them. And some books about death in general; ideas about death and death practices, poetry, novels about death, and other such things."

"Did he ever talk to you about the books he was checking out or using?" Kelsey asked.

"Perhaps in a general sense," Elsie said. "He didn't ever discuss what he was working on, but he must have thought it unusual to be checking out so many books about death and death practices. I believe I might be the only person in the university to see him smile. He must have seen my reaction to his checking the books out, and he assured me he only wanted to know about death and not taste it."

"Not taste it?" John asked. "Those were his words."

"They certainly were," Elsie said. "I remember them clearly because it was so out of character for him to interact like that directly. He could have put it any number of ways, so the words were very memorable."

"Did he interact with you on other occasions?" Kelsey asked.

"Not much," Elsie replied. "There was one brief discussion a couple of days before he went on the sabbatical that I do remember well. I don't remember his exact words, but I could tell he was at peace with something. He felt very calm and almost content with his life. Professor Reynolds was a good man and professor, but he did complain a lot."

"Do you remember what he said to you during that interaction?" John asked.

"Not exactly, but he did say goodbye to me. I never thought at the time that it would be the last time I would see him, and his goodbye didn't sound like a permanent one. He did ask me what I thought happened after death, and the question flustered me a little as I was not expecting it, so I didn't really have an answer. He mentioned something about our souls living on through what we do while still alive, and I didn't really know what he meant by that. That was the last time I saw him."

"Did he check out any books specifically on Egyptian burial rites or mummification?" Kelsey asked.

Elsie looked at Kelsey curiously. "No, I don't believe so, but some of the books he checked out must have mentioned it in some way. I can get you a full list of the books if that would be helpful."

"It would be helpful," John replied.

"Let me get that for you now," Elsie said. She got up and shuffled quickly toward the desk.

"Do you think he was a part of his own death?" John asked.

"I’m starting to feel that he was," Kelsey replied. "After finding his body, I was sure there would be more, but what if this is all there is? What if Michael Reynolds is his own killer and had someone perform the rights after his death? Legally, we have some form of crime, but we don’t have a killer."

"That sounds like our best-case scenario," John replied.

***

Amanda Canton walked with her golden retriever through the long grass, trying to hold on to one end of the leash. Benjy pulled on the retractable leash, which was fully extended, and searched the grass for interesting scents.

"Benjy!" Amanda called after him. "Slow down!"

She couldn’t help but laugh to herself as she was pulled along through the fields. It was a dream come true for her family, but most of all, their dog. Benjy had all the space in the world to explore, and he made the most of it, taking her in a different direction each time they went for a walk. In time, they would have to avoid some areas, but for now, they had free rein in the place.

The old farm had been split into four properties, with a new house built on each. The surrounding area was old farmland that was now the property of the state, but with no projects planned at all on the land, it was free for public use. That meant she and Benjy could explore to their heart’s content and would only have to limit where they walked when the other houses became occupied. They were the first to buy, and while it was nice to have complete freedom, it would also be welcome to have some neighbors on the land.

Benjy yanked on the leash, propelling Amanda forward. She clung on, secretly enjoying the feeling of being pulled. The exercise did her the world of good. Living in Fargo had its advantages, and she often took Benjy on walks, but there was something different about doing it in the countryside. She took in a deep breath, enjoying the freshness.

Amanda chuckled as she was yanked forward, sailing through the air for a couple of feet before breaking into a run with Benjy. She ran carefree through the fields, enjoying being alive.

Benjy tugged her to the side, and she followed where she went with no one to stop her. The grass tickled her legs. She wore shorts and a thin tank top to battle against the heat of the day. She knew she shouldn’t be outside for too long with the temperatures as they were, but both she and Benjy had hydrated well before going out, and they would hydrate again as soon as they got home.

Benjy stopped before the large grain silo and began barking at it.

Amanda laughed at her dog. "What is it now, Benjy? What have you found?" She walked toward her dog, the leash retracting for the first time since starting the walk.

The developers had spoken about the residents having the old farm buildings removed or converted, but Amanda liked them. They added character to the area, and none of them were in danger of falling down, even with their age.

"Do you smell an animal?" Amanda asked her dog as he continued to bark at the small, slightly ajar door leading into the grain silo.

Benjy stepped forward and pushed at the gap in the door, and it gave. Benjy leaped into the relative darkness of the grain silo, the leash extending and Benjy barking furiously.

"Oh, what have you done now, Benjy?" Amanda called after her dog as she followed.

I really hope he hasn’t cornered a skunk!

Amanda pushed the door open enough to slip into the grain silo. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness within. Benjy stood near the middle of the silo, barking, his tail stiff.

"What is—?"Amanda dropped the leash and froze. She scurried back and screamed as she hit the interior wall of the silo. She brought her hands to her face and screamed again as she stared at the horrendous display before her. The unclothed body was monstrous, twisted in some way, grotesque, and very, very dead.

CHAPTER SIX

"We didn't get what we wished for," John said as he drove into the newly developed property. "I really hope Detective Waters is wrong, and this is not connected, but I highly doubt that. We have two mummified bodies. What do we think? If this one is the same as the first, then we have two people who voluntarily died for this death ritual?"

"Yeah, it could be," Kelsey said. "Whether they voluntarily starved themselves or not, someone is orchestrating this. I’m not sure what’s more worrying. Someone killing two people and mummifying them or someone convincing the two deceased to slowly kill themselves."

John slowed the truck as they approached the forensic and law enforcement vehicles.

"We don't know the social group Michael Reynolds had joined?" John asked.

"A search of his house didn't give us anything other than some of the books he checked out from the library. I don't doubt the ex-wife, and that only leads me to believe the group is secretive in some way. If he joined a new group not long before dying and there is no mention of it, then maybe the group wishes to remain a secret."

"Some form of cult," John said.

"We have no evidence for it, but we have to think it," Kelsey agreed as they came to a stop. "I hate to say it, but a second body gives us more opportunity to find a link. Michael Reynolds was more reclusive. Let’s hope the second victim was not."

Kelsey and John got out of the truck, and the heat hit them immediately. Kelsey became impatient, being in the midst of a heatwave. It distracted her. It was not only that the heat tired them all out quicker, but the fact that all she could think about at that moment was getting back in the truck with the air conditioning switched on.

Detective Waters spotted them and almost ran to them.

"Thanks for getting here so quickly," he said. "Two deaths in two days. I don't know what’s going on anymore."

"You’re sure it’s the same as yesterday?" John asked.

"Almost exactly," the detective said. "You can take a look for yourselves, but the body was stripped, dried, organs removed, the same clay jars. This is definitely the work of the same person."

Kelsey looked behind the detective to a woman standing, sipping from a bottle of water. A golden retriever sat by her leg, looking up at her.

"Is she the one who found the body?" Kelsey asked, gesturing with a nod of her head.

Detective Waters looked behind and then back to Kelsey. "Yeah. Well, her dog, anyway. They were out for a walk, and the dog must have caught a scent and led her there."

"Looks like this was a farm at one point and converted to residential," John noted.

"They’re the first to buy a place here," Detective Waters said. "They only moved in a week ago. Mrs. Canton has been walking her dog multiple times a day, even in this heat, but this is the first time they’ve gone anywhere near the silo."

"So, we don't know how long the body has been in there," Kelsey said.

"We have no idea," Detective Waters said. "I think she’s been in there for the same amount of time the first victim was in the other silo. The bodies look exactly the same. You know, with the exception of the first being male and the second being female."

"Let’s go take a look," Kelsey said.

Detective Waters led them to the old silo that stood by itself.

"How many other mummified bodies are out here in silos in the middle of nowhere?" John wondered.

"And how far does the killer’s reach go?" Kelsey asked. "These two bodies are thirty miles apart. And we don't even know if the killer is a killer or if they are only doing the work after the person is dead."

"We don't know a whole lot," John admitted.

"No, we don’t," Kelsey agreed. "Not yet."

When they got to the silo, Detective Waters called for the forensic team to exit to allow Kelsey and John to go in without the interior of the silo becoming overheated. Once everyone was out, Kelsey and John went inside.

There was barely any smell to the body, even with the incredible heat that was more intense inside the silo than outside. They didn't have direct sunlight, but the heat accumulated within. The body had a slight sweetness to it that was not offensive.

Detective Waters was right. The second body looked exactly like the first, except for the first being male and the current being female. The skin on the body was almost the same shade of tan, and it looked translucent, just like with Michael Reynolds. Kelsey squatted down beside the body.

"I don't think she’s been dead as long as the first victim," Kelsey said. "The skin looks slightly less dried out."

She looked over the body. The dehydration presented in many of the same ways as with the first victim, but the female body had a little more fat. As a result, the skin was slightly more stretched as it dried and had more curves than angles. Still, the eyes and cheeks were sunken, and the hair looked straw-like.

The woman had a stitched incision in her stomach, and four familiar clay jars stood close to the body.

"Now I’m thinking that the silo is a connection," Kelsey told John. "We have two dead bodies that someone mummified before placing each of them in a silo, likely around the same time. They didn't have to choose a silo, but they did. Choosing a silo a second time tells us the silo is important. They knew the bodies would be found, but they wouldn’t be found immediately. They wanted the mummification process to continue. But why silos? They hold grain, so maybe it is connected to rebirth. The Ancient Egyptians buried their dead to be reborn in the afterworld, so maybe that’s connected to the grain silos."

"Or maybe they were convenient places to put the bodies," John suggested. "The killer or the person doing the mummifying placed the first body, and it worked well, so they stuck with it for the second?"

"It’s a possibility," Kelsey said. "I fear we won't know which direction we need to go with this until we find out who she is and how she connects to the first victim, if she connects to him. The other worry is that whoever is doing this is picking people at random and starving them to death. Though, that would make it more likely there was a connection as the person responsible would have to find both people. That’s a form of connection right there, and—"

"What is it?" John asked as Kelsey stopped talking.

"I don't know," she said. "It looks like there’s something… can you grab me a pair of gloves?"

John looked around, bent down, and took a pair of latex gloves from one of the forensic cases. He walked over and passed them to Kelsey, who put them on.

She shuffled over a little, getting closer to the woman’s head. Kelsey had never had a problem with dead bodies, but as she reached out, the papery skin creeped her out. She gently touched the woman’s neck and found the skin was tougher than expected. Instead of feeling like old paper that might tear at the slightest touch, it felt like tough leather.

Kelsey brought down her other hand and touched the woman’s neck, running her fingertips gently over a crease. Only, it didn't look like any of the other creases of wrinkles. She pressed her fingertips to either side of the crease as John bent down to join her. Then, she gently pulled the skin apart.

"It’s a clean cut," Kelsey said. "This woman didn't starve to death; she had her throat cut."

***

"The victim’s name is Kelly Mayer," Dr. Mitchell said.

Kelsey and John found themselves back in the office of the coroner, searching for more information.

"She died from exsanguination," the coroner confirmed. "She bled to death. The carotid artery was cut cleanly, most likely with a scalpel or some similar blade. The death would have been quick, and I don't suspect the victim felt much pain."

"Okay, so we know we are dealing with a killer now," Kelsey said. "Maybe Michael Reynolds starved himself, or maybe he was forced to do that, but that is irrelevant with the discovery of the second body. We have a killer on our hands, and there are two victims. I’m moving back to my original theory that there will be more bodies. There might be bodies out there right now waiting to be discovered."

"We can get teams searching abandoned silos within a fifty-mile radius of both deaths," John confirmed.

"And missing persons," Kelsey added. "We know Michael was a loner, and no one noticed him going missing, but what about our current victim? What about other missing people out there? The next victim might already be long dead and in the process of mummification. I want a full list of missing people in the area. That’s where we need to start."

"I’ll call Detective Waters now and see what they are working on and what we can divert to this search." John got up and hurried out of the room.

"Do we know the time of death?" Kelsey asked. "The body looked… fresher—to use an awful word to describe her."

"You’re right about that," the coroner said. "Kelly Mayer was very likely killed after Michael Reynolds, but not much after. She doesn’t have the same extent of mummification, but that is likely due to her eating and drinking right up until her death. We found her stomach half full, and all signs point to her being fully hydrated before death."

All right, so what? The killer does his thing with Michael Reynolds, either with Michael or against his will, and he enjoys it so much that he immediately goes out and kills someone else to do the same.

Kelsey still couldn’t shake the idea that the killer thought they were doing a good thing. They took time to care for and prepare the bodies, removing the organs and putting them in jars. Did the killer believe they were doing the victims a service and ensuring rebirth in the afterlife?

"We need to go," John said, returning to the doorway. "Right now."

"Call me if you find anything else," Kelsey instructed the coroner. She waited until she was out of the office to ask, "What’s going on?"

"I just got off the phone with Detective Waters," John told her. "There was a missing person report filed for Kelly Mayer by her husband two weeks ago, but he didn't file it until she had been missing for a week."

"A week?" Kelsey asked. "Why did he wait for so long?"

"He told the police he thought he could find her by himself," John said.

"That’s suspicious as heck," Kelsey replied. "We need to find out what is going on and if he has any connection to Michael Reynolds."

CHAPTER SEVEN

John pounded on the door. When it wasn’t answered immediately, he pounded again. It was answered shortly after that by a tall man with broad shoulders.

"Mr. Mayer?" John asked.

"Yeah? What’s it to ya?" Greg Mayer replied.

Kelsey could smell the alcohol on his breath.

John took out his badge first, moving forward a little toward the man who shifted unsteadily from foot to foot. Greg Mayer had a look in his eye like a snake that would lash out at any moment.

"I’m Deputy Gallant, and my partner, Special Agent Hawk from the FBI," John said. "How about we go inside and talk?"

Greg glared at John for a moment before curling up his upper lip and nodding. "Come in," he said gruffly. "Is this about Kelly? It’s not good news, or you would have said so. I knew from the start that this wouldn’t end well."

"Why did you know that from the start?" Kelsey asked as they walked into the house.

Greg stopped in his tracks, causing John and Kelsey to stop. Greg turned to face them with fire in his eyes, and Kelsey was glad for the presence of John between her and the man.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Greg asked.

"It’s a simple question," Kelsey replied.

"It’s not the question but how you asked it," Greg told her. "You think I had something to do with this, don't you?"

Kelsey wasn’t sure. Greg Mayer seemed like a man capable of violence but not one who would take the time to mummify his wife’s body or even be interested in doing so.

"Mr. Mayer, I don't make accusations without evidence to back me," Kelsey told him. "I have no reason to believe you killed your wife unless you give me a reason to believe so."

Greg tightened his lips and nodded. "So, she is dead then. You cops need to work on how you break the news to people."

Greg had lashed out with more anger at being asked a simple question by Kelsey than he did on hearing his wife was dead. He acted as if he expected it.

"I need a beer," Greg said.

"Mr. Mayer—" John began, but it was too late. Greg turned and strode off toward the kitchen.

John turned to look at Kelsey with eyebrows raised, and she replied with a shrug. They showed themselves through to the living room, the place a complete mess. If Kelsey had to hazard a guess, she would say that Kelly was the one who had kept the house in order, and since his wife went missing, he had not made an effort to clean up after himself.

Beer bottles littered the floor, some knocked over, and stains on the carpet where beer had spilled. Dirty plates and cups were scattered over most surfaces and the floor. Thankfully, there was no sign of kids or pets.

A sudden crash from the kitchen put Kelsey and John on edge, and she didn't feel like she was overreacting when she also saw John move a hand toward his gun. Another crash followed—the sound of a mug hitting a wall. The anger was finally surfacing, but Kelsey wasn’t sure if it was because his wife was dead or because he was being questioned for it.

"Do you want a beer?" Greg shouted from the kitchen.

"We’d like to talk with you!" John called back.

Not long after, Greg appeared from the kitchen with a beer in his hand. He unscrewed the top and tossed it to the floor. His eyes were red.

"What happened to her?" Greg asked. He looked directly at Kelsey but not to intimidate her.

Kelsey took a moment to size him up. She wanted the truth from him about why he filed the missing person report when he did, and she estimated that he was a man who told it like it was, even if that annoyed most people. Perhaps it would make things worse, but she had the feeling that if she told him the truth, it would be easier to get the truth from him. He would have to identify the body so he would see what had happened to her.

"She was murdered," Kelsey told him.

Greg took a swig of his beer and stared at Kelsey as if waiting for more. As if the initial news was not showing in any way.

"She had her throat cut," Kelsey continued. "I know this is no consolation, but she would have died quickly."

"Yeah, that’s no consolation," Greg told her.

Kelsey watched his face the entire time. "She was likely killed two to three weeks ago. Whoever killed her mummified her."

"What?" Greg asked in confusion.

Kelsey could see the confusion was not in surprise at what he was hearing but in confusion at not knowing what it meant. Still, his anger had at least subsided for the moment.

"It’s what the Ancient Egyptians used to do," John added. "Some organs are removed, and the body is dried out."

"What?" Greg repeated, taking another swig of beer. "She was like wrapped in bandages and crap like in the movies?"

"It’s not quite like that," John told him.

"It’s not quite like that!" Greg shouted, startling Kelsey. "Then what is it like!"

"I’d appreciate it if you would lower your voice, Mr. Mayer," John stated. "We are here to help you, okay?"

"Are you?" Greg asked. He gestured with his beer, spilling some. "Are you? Are you? Because you think I'm the one who did it. You think I killed her and did all that crap to her, and that's why I didn't report her missing for a week. If I did do all that, then why would I report her missing at all? Believe me, if I had killed my wife, her body wouldn't be found."

"No, and why is that?" John asked, stepping closer again in case he lashed out and Kelsey faced any of it.

"Because I’m not an idiot," Greg snapped. "Why the heck would I dress her up in bandages and leave her anywhere for you to find? What’s the point in doing that?"

"That’s what we’re trying to find out," John told him.

"Why a week?" Kelsey asked. "Why wait a week to report her missing? I get leaving it for a couple of days, but not a week. Tell us why, and we can move on to other things."

Greg shook his head and paced to the shelf on the left-hand wall, looking at a picture of him and Kelly. He turned and strode to the armchair, swiping his hand over it to remove the beer bottle and crumpled wrapper. Then he sat down on the chair and stared at the ground.

"I thought I could find her," Greg said angrily. "This is not the first time she’s gone off without telling me. If you hadn’t noticed, I have a slight anger problem, though with the way she talks about me to her mother, you would think she lived her life in constant threat of being…"

"Of being what?" John asked.

"Yeah, I’m not saying that and having you think what you’re already thinking," Greg spat. "Talk to her mother if you want to know that. Jeez, she’s going to think I did this to her. It won't matter who you find for this; she’ll blame me for it. Kelly’s the one who ran off in the first place."

"Why a week?" Kelsey pushed.

"I already told you," Greg replied. "I wanted to be the one to find her. I thought she was at her mother’s, but she wasn’t. I checked some of the bars in the area. She could really drink when she wanted to. Then I checked in with friends and work, but I couldn't find her. I’ve always been the one to bring her home, but when a week passed, I knew something was wrong. I don't care if you believe me or not, but what idiot kills someone and then reports them missing a week later? Even I’m not that dumb, and I can be pretty dumb at times."

Kelsey took a beat before asking her next question. "Where does Kelly work?"

"She manages a department store," Greg replied.

"They must have called you to ask where she was," John noted.

"They did, and I fobbed them off by telling them she was sick. I really thought she would be back, and I didn't want her to lose her job. Then, when I called the police to report her missing, I told them her work, too. They didn't seem too happy about it, but screw them."

Kelsey looked around the room. She didn't know yet what to make of Greg Mayer, but she couldn’t help feeling he was hiding something from them, that he knew more than he was letting on.

The main problem with the case was that it was nearly impossible to get an accurate time of death for both victims, so nailing down alibis for possible suspects would also be difficult.

"Does the name Michael Reynolds mean anything to you?" Kelsey asked.

"Michael Reynolds?" Greg asked. "No, I have no idea who that is."

It sounded like the truth to Kelsey.

"Mr. Mayer, did your wife change any habits over the past few months?" Kelsey asked. "Do you know if she joined any new social groups?"

Greg was still staring at the floor, so she couldn’t look him in the eye to gauge his reaction. Still, there was a tightening in his shoulders that gave him away. The mention of a new social group meant something to him. Greg looked up at Kelsey.

He looked far too pleasant compared to how he had looked previously. "No, I don't think so. Honestly, she did a lot I didn't know about. Tell her mother that! Kelly would go off drinking by herself while I was stuck at home, so maybe she had something new, but she never told me about it."

Kelsey was sure now that he was lying. "We’re going to need you to come into the station soon to give a formal statement, but you have to be sober for that, Mr. Mayer. Anything you can tell us will help us catch your wife’s killer."

Greg suddenly dropped his bottle and stood up. John moved forward, but Greg was too quick, and he got right into Kelsey’s face, but he didn't touch her. He stood glaring into her eyes, his breath warm with beer.

"When you do find the person who killed her, I want five minutes alone in a room with him; do you understand me?" Greg asked.

"You know we can't do that," Kelsey replied.

John took hold of Greg’s shoulder and pulled him back.

"Five minutes; that’s all I’m asking," Greg said. "No one will ever know I was there."

"Please don't go anywhere," Kelsey said. "I know this is a hard time for you, but we need your cooperation with this investigation, Mr. Mayer."

"You cooperate with me, and I’ll cooperate with you," Greg said.

"We can show ourselves out," Kelsey told him.

John watched Greg as Kelsey left the room and then followed her out. They exited the house and walked back toward John’s truck.

"He’s hiding something," John said. "Are we really just letting him go?"

"I agree that he’s hiding something," Kelsey said. "And we’re not just letting him go, but we don't have a reason to bring him in yet. His excuse about calling the police to report her missing after a week is suspicious but so ridiculous that I almost believe it."

"So, what do we do with him?" John asked.

"We look as if we’re leaving, but we stay close and see what he does next. If he is involved somehow, we hope he makes some sort of move. I don't know what to make of Greg Mayer just yet, but everything in my gut tells me he’s impulsive, so we won't have to wait long to find out."

CHAPTER EIGHT

"I don't know if I have ever been on a stakeout before," John admitted.

"It’s not usually my style either, but better to be here if he does make a move," Kelsey said. "I want to know exactly where he goes if he leaves the house or exactly who visits him. He will make a move sooner or later, I’m sure of it. And there is the added bonus of getting to spend some quality time with you, John."

John smiled. "There’s nothing more romantic than sitting in my truck waiting for a potential serial killer to make his move."

"We know how to have a good time," Kelsey replied.

"Only we don't have a picnic or anything like that. Remind me to pack a picnic basket and have it with me at all times in case we have an impromptu stakeout."

"What?" Kelsey gasped, placing her hand over her heart. "You don't carry a picnic basket around with you at all times for this very scenario?"

John shook his head sadly. "I guess this is why you work for the FBI, and I’m only a lowly sheriff’s deputy."

"Well, they did have a whole module at the academy about food," Kelsey commented. "Picnic baskets for stakeouts, when to bring wine to kick down someone’s door, the best food to give prisoners to get them talking."

"You learned so much there," John commented. "I mean, I don't even know the best fruits to replenish energy during a high-speed chase."

"Plums," Kelsey said confidently.

"Plums?" John asked.

"Come on, everyone knows that."

John laughed. "Now that I think about it, it has to be plums because of the…"

"Chase-ion chemicals that heighten your reactions when driving at speed," Kelsey finished.

"Chase-ion! Yes!" John exclaimed, trying not to laugh. "When I pack my picnic basket, I’ll be sure to include plums."

"Good," Kelsey said, "because I don't want to be with a man who forgets to pack the plums in his picnic basket." Kelsey couldn’t help it any longer and burst into a fit of laughter.

John joined her, leaguing heartily and deeply. He took her shoulder and pulled her toward him to kiss her.

When they came apart, Kelsey said, "See, you do know some things only taught at the FBI, like when to kiss your partner on a stakeout. You wouldn’t believe how many agents mess that up on the exam."

"So, I passed?" John asked.

"You passed with flying colors," Kelsey said. "Wait, here we go."

John looked to where Kelsey was looking. The sun was piping down behind the row of houses when Greg Mayer finally emerged carrying a duffel bag. He looked left and right down the street, not seeing Kelsey and John were in the parked truck a hundred yards away and then got into his vehicle.

John started the truck and waited. Greg drove in the opposite direction from them, allowing John to pull out of his parking spot shortly after Greg pulled out from the curb.

"Let’s see where you’re going, Greg," Kelsey said as they drove. She stared at the car, afraid to let it out of her sight.

The streets were not busy anymore, and John maintained a distance through the town, keeping at least a hundred yards from Greg’s vehicle. When Greg left the town and merged onto the highway, John got a little closer.

"Where is he going?" Kelsey asked.

"Maybe he has more bodies out here somewhere," John replied. "He might have one drying and wants to place it before we go back to talk with him again. Is it right to be letting him drive? We both saw how he looked when we were in his house."

"I don't like it, but I think we have to weigh the risks," Kelsey said. "If his driving becomes erratic, we stop him. Something tells me this is not the first time he’s driven under the influence. As long as he is not a danger to anyone else and might lead us to another body, we let him drive."

A couple of minutes later, Greg turned off the main highway and onto a range road. John followed him, and when they got a few hundred yards down the road, John pointed toward a farm and the four grain silos.

"I see them," Kelsey said.

John started to slow down when Kelsey said, "Keep driving. Don't slow down."

Greg turned off onto the farm. John did as instructed and continued driving past the turnoff.

"There are half-a-dozen cars parked out front of the farmhouse," Kelsey said. "I don't know what’s going on, but we don't want to tip our hand. Something tells me this is what Greg Mayer was lying about. If this is what it looks like, then we have something to tie everything together and put Greg Mayer right in the middle of everything as our prime suspect."

"A cult?" John asked.

"Maybe," Kelsey replied. "Certainly, a gathering of some sort. And with four grain silos on the property, we have to believe the worst. I want to get a closer look before we do anything. If they see law enforcement heading their way, it gives them a chance to clean everything up. We go in first and then call in the cavalry."

"All right." John finally slowed and pulled off the road and into a field behind a large oak tree. "The first sign of trouble, and we get out of there as quickly as possible."

"Agreed," Kelsey said.

They exited the truck, and both checked their guns to make sure they were loaded and the safeties were off. In the back of her mind, Kelsey was sure they were not about to spy on a cult, but she could not shake the feeling that was exactly what they would come face to face with.

"Let’s go," John ordered.

They ran together, keeping to the tree line for cover. It was getting dark, and the oncoming darkness provided an extra shield against being seen.

Was Kelly Mayer a part of the group, and they killed her? Is this the new social group Michael Reynolds joined? Did it get them both killed?

If those thoughts were confirmed, then Greg Mayer was connected in some way. Kelsey didn't believe he had what it took to mummify two bodies, but if a group worked together, he wouldn’t need to do anything. Still, he let it happen to his wife.

Your anger was real, Greg. When you asked to spend some time alone with the killer, you meant it. Did they kill her against your wishes?

Kelsey and John reached the edge of the property, seeing lights on in the farmhouse and the large barn behind on the opposite side of the house as the road. Next to the large barn were the four grain silos. Shadows moved through the property as if dark ghosts populated it.

"I’ll take the barn if you want the farmhouse," John said.

Kelsey could see why John made that suggestion—it was to protect her. Most of the shadowy figures were walking toward the barn to congregate.

"I’ll check it and then join you there," Kelsey said.

John nodded. "Be careful."

"I’ll try," Kelsey said back.

She watched John move and skirt around the tree line to approach the barn from behind. Kelsey waited a few seconds before she moved directly toward the farmhouse, approaching from the side. Swathes of light cut through the darkness at the front of the house as more cars arrived and people got out. They all headed in the direction of the barn.

Kelsey reached the site of the house and pressed her back to it. The shadows that moved through the property did so on the front and opposite side of the house. Kelsey moved slowly along the wall, her hand on her gun, ready to use it defensively if she were caught. If they were in the midst of a cult that had killed two people, there was no telling what else they might do.

Kelsey shook her head. We don't know what we are dealing with yet. I can't jump to that conclusion without seeing it with my own eyes.

She reached the end of the house and carefully looked around the corner. Shadows still moved, but with their backs to her as they walked toward the barn. She looked in that direction to see lights within. Kelsey couldn’t see John and was glad she couldn’t. If she couldn’t spot him, it was unlikely they could.

Shouting erupted from inside the house, a furious argument that immediately perked up Kelsey’s ears. She couldn’t make out what was being shouted but had spent enough time with Greg Mayer to recognize the tone of his voice. He had the same anger in his voice as he’d had when they were at his house.

Kelsey needed to hear what was being said, and she risked moving closer, using the fact that darkness had almost fallen and a deck at the back door of the property mostly obscured her from view. Kelsey crouched as she made her way toward the edge of the deck, hoping that no one looked directly her way.

More shouting came from another male voice this time. Kelsey was not close enough to them, and the wall between them didn’t allow her to hear their words, only the tone and intent. It sounded like a fight was coming, and Kelsey wasn’t sure what to do.

In her mind, it sounded like Greg Mayer was confronting someone else in the cult about his dead wife, and he would take action. If Greg tried to kill the man, she had a duty to step in, but with so many people around, she didn't know what their reaction would be. It could be a dozen people against her and John.

Kelsey didn't have to make a decision. The back door flew open, and Kelsey instinctually ducked. Greg Mayer burst out of the farmhouse, storming off. If he had looked to his right, he would surely have seen her.

Greg pulled his hood over his head, and only then did she notice he wore a long reddish-black cloak. That was when it clicked that they were all wearing robes, which was why they all looked like shadowy ghosts.

A few seconds later, the second man burst out of the kitchen and followed Greg, but he didn't call after him. He wore a long cloak, too, and the hood was already up. Kelsey made the assumption that he was the leader. He had come from the farmhouse and likely lived on the property, and he had argued with a man who could clearly do him some damage and come out unscathed.

Did he confront you about his dead wife? Are you the one who killed her?

Kelsey waited two more minutes to ensure no one else left the farmhouse before she made her move toward the barn. She kept low but didn't use the trees for cover now that no one else was walking from the house to the barn. She reached the large building and stopped to catch her breath, listening for what was going on inside.

She couldn’t quite hear, just like at the farmhouse, so she moved around the exterior of the building, hoping for an open window or some gap in the wall. They might not call themselves a cult, but they all wore the same robes and were congregating secretly in a barn. They were definitely a cult. They were dealing with two dead people and a cult, and Kelsey was sure they were connected. She rounded the corner and almost gasped when she came face to face with a large man.

Her heart quickly slowed when she saw it was John. Her shoulders dropped, and she gave him a tight smile. John pressed his finger to his lips. Kelsey nodded and then followed him when he turned. He moved along the rear of the barn until he was near the center and pointed upward.

Kelsey looked up to see a small opening where they would have loaded hay bales into a hayloft. She nodded again, and John squatted down, placing one hand face up on top of the other. Kelsey placed one foot on his hand and pushed herself up as John simultaneously lifted her.

She wobbled slightly as she balanced on one leg and then pressed herself to the barn's exterior, steadying herself. She straightened her leg, and John pushed her up some more, taking her feet, one in each hand. Kelsey almost smiled at how they must look, the two of them pressed to the barn like two gymnasts in some weird show. She reached up and gripped the bottom of the opening, finally steadying herself. Then, she fully straightened herself just enough to peek into the barn.

The hayloft was no more. The interior was wide open, and Kelsey looked down on the fifteen figures, all gathered together wearing robes. They stood in the center of the barn, close to each other, talking amongst themselves. It looked initially like nothing more than some people coming together to socialize. If they were not all wearing the same red cloaks, she might think that.

Kelsey couldn’t pick out Greg Mayer or the man whom he had argued with. She did see feminine features. The group was not only males. Lanterns lit the interior of the barn, but there were no candles.

That had been one of her first thoughts as she had looked down into the barn to see the cloaked and hooded figures. Her first association was with some evil or devilry. She had expected a pentagram and some candles, but there was none of that. There was not very much of anything.

Kelsey held one corner of her face in the bottom corner of the window, just enough to see it without being seen in the darkness. One of the figures turned around, and she saw it was Greg Mayer. His eyes looked fiery red beneath the hood. He turned again, and one side of his cloak shifted enough for her to see below.

Kelsey felt her whole body tighten. Greg had a handgun strapped to his belt. Some of the others shifted as if they were doing a dance just for her. Greg was not the only one carrying a weapon. She spotted two more handguns and a rifle. Then they were gone again, hidden beneath cloaks.

She had only seen weapons on some of them, but she knew in her heart they were all armed. Her mind went quickly to the vehicles parked at the front of and around the farmhouse. If they got the plates, they could run them and discover who owned the property. It was a big risk with a possible payoff. Was the reward with the risk? If they were spotted now, they ran the real risk of being shot at before they could escape the farm.

CHAPTER NINE

"Welcome all!" the voice boomed.

Kelsey wanted to shift to see the man who had spoken, even though she had an idea of who it was. She didn't know his name but was sure it was the man who had argued with Greg Mayer in the farmhouse and likely the man who lived on the farm. He also seemed to be the leader.

The group of cloaked figures turned to face the wall where the opening was that Kelsey had looked through. She couldn’t see the man who addressed them but could clearly see Greg Mayer now. She watched him, studying his features for a sign that he might do something, either at the meeting or after.

She was more exposed now. They all faced her direction, and all they had to do was look up at the empty window to have a chance of seeing her. It would only take one, and they would be in danger,

She and John would have a head start while the cult members exited at the front and ran around to the back, but with at least fifteen of them and all of them armed, she didn't like their chances. Still, she wanted to hear what they had to say during the meeting.

"Welcome!" the leader boomed down below, still out of view. "It is so good to see so many of you here, and while I am disappointed that some of our members are not in attendance, it heartens me to have so many of us here again under one roof. Brothers and sisters, take a look around and see who you are here with tonight. Give each other thanks for making this effort, and take heart in your own attendance. Do that now."

Whoever the leader was, he spoke with charisma and authority. The more he spoke, the less worried Kelsey was about being spotted. When he spoke, they all clung to his every word. She could see it in their faces—most of them. Greg glared at their leader with a burning intensity.

The congregated members did as they were asked, looking around at each other with smiles and quiet thanks. Some shook hands, and others clapped their fellow members on the back or shoulder. After each interaction, a few of them looked toward the hidden leader as if wanting to show just how well they were doing as instructed.

"Good, good," the leader said. "Oh, my, how it heartens me to see you all in such good spirits when we have been so besieged by such bad luck. Thank you for leading me through the start of this evening’s proceedings as I shoulder the burden of those lost to us. I set out each day to bring hope to the world, and that hope is often returned to me in unexpected ways. I don't know if the character of each and every one of you is purposely on show tonight for my benefit, but it sure feels like it, and I thank you for consciously or subconsciously bringing me peace."

Most of his followers beamed at him in response to the words of praise. Most, but not all—not Greg Mayer. Kelsey didn't like it. If Greg decided to do something, there were a lot of guns in a very confined space.

"We must recognize and mourn those we have lost," the leader continues. "It is a sad day when anyone we love is lost to us, but unlike the masses, we can take heart in that loss. We understand that the loss is not permanent, and we will see our brethren again. That does not often bring us any peace, but we must try to allow that peace into our hearts. They are gone, and someday, we will be gone too, and when we are, we will be reunited with them. Please find peace in the brothers and sisters with you here tonight who share in your pain and sadness but also share in the knowledge that death is not the end."

"Death is not the end," the members repeated together.

"No, death is not the end!" the leader called.

"Death is not the end!" came the reply.

"Yes!" the leader shouted. "It is not the end indeed, and we shall not fear it. We shall not fear the fight that comes for us all and embrace death when it takes us. The greatest death any of us can experience is a death where we die fighting for what we believe in. If we do not fight when they come to tell us we are wrong, then the truth dies with us. When that truth dies, so do our sons and daughters and all our loved ones, for they will never know the truth and will fail to join us in the afterlife."

Kelsey tried to remember it all, to take it all in. She had heard wording and tone like it before from leaders who wanted to influence, and she couldn’t deny the effect he had on his followers, even Greg, who had softened some. Kelsey wanted to stay up there all night and listen to what the leader had to say, and she knew John would hold her for as long as she needed.

"I like to get ahead of myself," the leader said. "We are the Preservers of Tomorrow, and tonight we have a new member. We welcome you tonight; we all welcome you."

The group converged slowly on one young woman, placing one hand each on her head and back. Kelsey looked at the faces where she could but didn't recognize any of them except for Greg. She tried to memorize the faces so she could identify the people again. They grouped around the young woman, her head bent, hands on her, and stood there for a full minute before they moved away again. The young woman took a deep breath afterward, a shaky smile coming to her face.

"Welcome!" the leader boomed. "You are most welcome here with us, and we look forward to you learning our ways to help preserve tomorrow."

The young woman smiled and nodded.

"We have a lot ahead of us," the leader told them. "We do not know what our changing times will bring, whether it will be with us or against us, but like a sailboat in the ocean, we go where the current takes us, not resisting, but always holding firm against the pressure. Allow me to thank those of you for your diligent work in these trying times. I don't need to single any of you out—in your hearts, you know who you are and what you have done. Let us take a moment to be thankful for the things that are done in our name to bring us glory."

The heads bowed in unison, and it looked like they were all in communal prayer. Kelsey moved from face to face, not seeing much with heads bowed. Then she caught the eyes of the young new initiate. Kelsey froze, the moment surreal, and the young woman bowed her head again.

Kelsey felt her heartbeat in her ears, and she ducked down. Then, she pushed her foot to add pressure to John’s hand, and he got the message and lowered her. Kelsey leaped to the ground when she was close enough.

"We have to go," she hissed. "I think I was spotted."

John didn't question her. He ran by her side as they sprinted from the barn into the darkness and safety of the trees. Kelsey didn't look behind as she ran. She didn't want to trip and lose her footing in the darkness. Loud sounds came from the barn, and she couldn’t make out if they were shouts or chants. She waited for the crack of a gun and a bullet to hit her. Her heart pounded, threatening to rip through her chest and escape on its own.

They pushed out of the trees, and John grabbed her arm so they could run together and he could protect her. When her feet left the ground, she felt as if she were floating, and she was pulled forward a little more than she would be able to step mid-spring.

They got to the truck and jumped in. The lights came on inside, making them an easy target if they were being followed. John started the engine, and Kelsey ducked down, looking back the way they had come. She could see the barn's light behind the trees, but it was impossible to see anything or anyone else.

The tires of the truck spun in the grass, and then they were propelled forward and toward safety.

CHAPTER TEN

Erica walked with a spring in her step. She didn't know what it was about the day, but she felt good. She stopped at a small store selling handcrafted art, but she didn't look at the art. Instead, she stared at the window, looking at her reflection. Erica smiled at herself, seeing her happiness reflected back at her. It had been a long time since she had been genuinely happy.

It was so long that she couldn’t remember it. She knew that she must have been happy as a child before she was kidnapped and forced into a life of slavery, but the memories of her time before had been snatched from her just as she was snatched.

Kelsey was away on a case, and that was a part of it. When Kelsey had left before, Erica had always become paranoid that she was being followed. She knew she was being followed and watched at times, but her mind made it more than it was. She knew she still needed help to function, but as she walked through Winchburgh that day, she was happy she was surviving on her own.

She looked forward to her sister returning and hearing about the progress with the FBI, but at that moment, she was happy. Independent and happy. Everything before they took her at nine years old had been wiped from her memory, and she had lived drugged and married to a man she didn't love for over a decade, so it was indeed the first time she felt independence, and Erica knew she could cope with it.

Kelsey and John are away and will solve whatever crime they are investigating. Then, they will come back, and the FBI will have enough evidence to bring down the organization that took me. Kelsey and John will be married and start their own family. And I will be an aunt!

The thought made her a little dizzy. It hadn’t happened yet, but she felt the love of her future family echo back through time to her, and she already loved her nieces and nephews more than anything in the world. After what had happened to her, Erica would never have a relationship ever again, but that didn't mean she couldn’t have love.

Erica eventually looked away from her own reflection to some of the art in the store window, her heart beating with giddiness at the imagined future she would help to manifest. She looked up and to the right and caught sight of a figure. Her eyes focused on the reflection in the window again, and she saw him.

Erica’s heart stopped before beating furiously. She saw a figure standing across the other side of the street, looking over at her. The figure must have spotted her and moved. Erica spun around quickly, but he was gone. She looked up and down the street, searching for him, trying to work out where he had disappeared to, but she couldn't find a trace of him.

Take a deep breath and think about this! There never was anyone there. You were only imagining it.

Erica half-believed herself. She breathed short breaths through her nose, trying to calm her beating heart. She looked left and right to see a sparse number of Winchburgh residents going about their daily business without a care in the world. An old lady walked past and smiled. Erica knew she should recognize her, but she couldn’t think straight. She returned a crooked smile while she thought what to do next.

I can't call Kelsey. She’ll believe what I saw, but I’m not even sure I believe what I saw.

Erica knew the man was gone. She told herself to go home and forget all about it, so she walked. She continued down the street, trying to keep a neutral expression so the people she passed wouldn’t think she was crazy.

She had gone two blocks when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she involuntary spun around to check behind. She almost bumped into the lady who was walking close behind, and the lady scowled before apologizing for being in the way. Erica ignored the woman as she walked past, looking down the street behind her for evidence she was being followed.

A young man walked down the street on his own, but it was not the person she had seen in the reflection, and she recognized him as living in the town, though she couldn’t quite place him either with her mind muddled.

Just keep going and get home! I’m safe there.

Erica continued on again, her breathing heavy as she walked as quickly as possible. She looked over her shoulder as she walked and noticed people giving her looks, but she didn't care. They could think she was crazy all they wanted, but they couldn’t help her if she was attacked. No one could help her except Kelsey, and she was not there.

Erica broke into a run, almost knocking over a woman. She stopped at the lights to cross the street and looked behind, struggling to catch her breath. A block back, she caught sight of someone but couldn’t make out who it was. There were more people now, and it was harder to see if she was being followed.

The lights changed, and Erica sprinted across the street. A horn honked at her. The lights for the cars had changed, but not for pedestrians to cross. She continued to run as the car honked after her, the tone changing as she ran from the noise.

I can't go home. They know where I live, and if they are coming after me, that’s the first place they will go.

Erica ran, putting distance between herself and the man chasing her. She still didn't know if anyone was chasing her, but it was better not to take chances.

Sheriff Anderson!

She would go there. When Kelsey had left town before, the sheriff had taken her in and protected her. There was another person other than Kelsey who could protect her, and that was the sheriff.

Erica broke into a sprint. If she could reach the sheriff’s office, she would be safe from them.

***

The man sat down at his ornate oak desk and pulled up the hood to cover his head. He adjusted it so that it covered his hair but didn't hang down enough to block his view. He smoothed the wrinkles in the hood, then looked down at the old book on the desktop.

The man looked down at his hands, which were covered with thin silk gloves. He rubbed his forefingers and thumbs together, taking time to enjoy what was about to happen. The book was new to him, and he was excited to learn that hundreds, perhaps thousands, of others had read it. He ran his fingertips over the words on the front cover.

The Mummy: Chapters on Egyptian Funeral Archaeology by Sir Ernest A. Wallis Budge.

He had not been familiar with the author until recently, and when he discovered him, he had to have a copy of the book for his collection. Searching online as he waited for the book to be delivered had taken him down a rabbit hole. The author was one of the leading Egyptologists of the nineteenth century, and the book covered the lesser-known and rare burial customs from history.

The man licked his lips as he gently opened the front cover. He leaned down and brought his nose close to the first page, inhaling. A part of him remembered the curses brought down on explorers entering tombs and opening sarcophaguses for the first time. They hadn’t known until later that the curses were only diseases trapped in time and released.

Will I consume something from the book through my nose that will doom me to a fate worse than death?

He was afraid of death, but that was only because he was not yet prepared for it. There was no one to do to him what he had done to others. When he first set out on his journey, he thought the task would be a simple one, but finding the right person, someone who could fully understand what he worked toward, proved difficult. Still, he knew his death would not come for some time. He was on a mission to help others, and he would not be taken before he had helped many.

The scent was not unlike the bodies once they had dried sufficiently. He wondered if it were the smell of the body’s history brought to the surface by the mummification. Everything the person had done was brought to the skin as if it were invisibly written them.

He sat back up, adjusting the hood of his cloak to sit a little better. Then, he turned the pages until he got to the contents page and drank in the topics within the book. One stood out, and he immediately went to the page, taking his time to protect the dry pages from damage.

The man read about natron baths. Natron was a naturally occurring salt that was harvested from dry lake beds and often used to pack the body or mixed with water to bathe the dead. He read about the ritual slaughter of servants and the debate over whether that happened—whether the figurines included in tombs showed that servants had been slain to join their master in the afterlife or if they were only figurative. There was a chapter about amulets secretly hidden in the body to bring good luck and safe passage to the afterlife, and he took out his notebook to write that down. It would be simple to incorporate the act into his ritual.

He jotted more down in his notebook, including the fact that some mummies had their stomachs and intestines replaced with sawdust or their hearts replaced with scarab hearts, pieces of wood, or clay.

The man had spent a lot of time researching his practices before trialing them, and he was extremely happy with the end results, but that didn't mean he couldn’t change what he was doing. As long as it was done back then, it could be done now. If it was right then, it was right now. He could take no chances in sending people to the next world. The more accurate he was, the better the chance of success. If he did not act in complete faith within his practices, he risked it all being for naught.

He skimmed the book, taking notes on some parts. He would revisit it another time and digest it more thoroughly, but the parts he had recorded gave him more than enough food for thought about what would come next.

The man closed the book and then his eyes. He thought of the two that had been discovered: Michael Reynolds and Kelly Mayer. He was confident in his work, even if he might change it. He could feel them in the afterworld, knowing what he had done for them, even if they both might not have agreed to it at the time. Their eyes would finally be open, and they would revere him as the master of their deaths.

I will join you when the time is right, but that time is not now.

They would be grateful at how he had honored them, and that gratitude would extend and extend until it was his time to pass. He was only getting started on his journey. The man had only taken the first step of many. The two mummies that had been found were only a drop in an immense ocean.

The man opened his eyes and smiled. There was a lot of work still to be done, and he had to guide many people from this life to the next, no matter how much resistance he faced.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kelsey poured coffee from the pot in the small kitchen into her mug and set it on the hot plate. She sighed and walked out of the room with the coffeepot in her hand. She had just stepped out when she noticed her mistake, and she shook her head with a wry smile on her lips.

She returned to the kitchen, switched the coffee pot for her mug, and left the room with that instead, though she was tempted to take the entire pot back to her desk to share with John.

There was no hotel or motel in the town of Dunwich, but accommodations had been made for them to stay in the small town in a property owned by the sister of Detective Waters. She was in Fargo for the week on business, and they all hoped the case would be wrapped up long before then. Kelsey and John didn't like staying in someone else’s house, but it made sense in this case.

They could have returned to Winchburgh and driven back to Dunwich in the morning, but that would have taken too much time. Furthermore, the second body had been found thirty miles in the opposite direction from home, making Dunwich seem like a good place to settle for now. They had no idea where or when the next body would appear.

For the past four hours, they had been at the small police station in Dunwich, deciding on the best plan of attack. Kelsey returned to the small desk she was currently sharing with John and set the coffee down before she plonked herself down in the chair. They had taken over the desk of the single officer who inhabited the station, and he sat by the wall at a foldable table that had been brought in to give them more space. Detective Waters was not based out of the station, only coming in when needed. He was currently outside and, on his phone, as he chased up some leads.

"How are you feeling now that you are up and moving about?" John asked.

"That bed did not agree with me," she replied. "I don't know what it was because it sure felt comfortable when I lay down on it, but when I woke this morning, I felt like I had gone ten rounds with someone kicking me in the back. I don't know how you can be comfortable sleeping just about anywhere."

"Life in the army," John responded. "You have to sleep in some uncomfortable places at times, and I guess my body got used to it."

"Did your platoon ever complain about your snoring?" Kelsey asked.

"Nope," John said with a smile and a shake of his head. "Probably because I don't snore."

"Next time, I’m going to record you," Kelsey said.

She rubbed her face. She would be more annoyed if John was anyone else, but he had a calming effect on her, and it was almost impossible to be angry with him even when she had not slept well through the night and been woken once by his snoring.

"All right, so where are we are with all of this?" Kelsey asked.

"Detective Waters is still chasing up where the salt might have come from, but I don't think we get anything from that," John said. "He’s also calling in as many favors as he can, and I’m doing the same so we can have people go out to silos in the area to check them. The word has also been put out to as many farmers as possible to check their silos, but the dead bodies haven’t been mentioned yet. We don't want to alarm people, but we will need to get ahead of this at some point. I’m sure people are talking about mummified bodies, and once the press gets a hold of it, they will have a field day."

"Agreed," Kelsey said. "If this drags out, we call a press conference and decide among us what we tell them."

"I know that Detective Waters is also looking into anyone with a medical background, but that likely won't give us much. We can hardly go into hospitals in the area and interview everyone. We need to keep that piece in mind when we go after any suspects, but it’s not a starting point."

"No, you’re right," Kelsey said. "It gives us more of the picture but not the whole picture. I’ve looked into the Preservers of Tomorrow all morning, and there’s not a lot on them. The only real mention of them is through a local meetup app where they met at various libraries in small towns in the area, including Dunwich, on a rotating basis."

"So, the group has evolved?" John asked. "I can't imagine them turning up in robes to the library and sitting around a table together."

"No, I can't either," Kelsey admitted. "The last mention of them is from two years ago, and then it looks like they disbanded, but they must have gone off the grid as a group. They met once a month to talk about history, but that’s all the information I could find. I can't even find any names associated with the group. It was always advertised as an open drop-in group, and there was never any sign up. Whoever posted the group details did so anonymously."

"Okay, so if this is the same group, which we have to assume it is because it would be too much of a coincidence to have two groups with the same name in the same area, then they started out discussing history, and then what? They get into mummification and take it all off the books because they know they are committing crimes?"

"That’s how it looks from what we have seen so far," Kelsey said. "This group meets once a month, and I am confident the leader I heard last night was either the one posting the group details or joined the group at some point. They start off discussing history and maybe get into more serious topics around death, and it evolves into what we saw last night."

"If they were all armed, then they expect to defend themselves when needed, which only suggests more strongly that they have a reason to defend themselves or are hiding something. I didn't hear what they were saying as well as you did, but from your description, it seems that they will follow their leader in whatever he wants them to do."

"All except for Greg Mayer," Kelsey pointed out. "Maybe we should have brought him in already. As soon as we visit the farm again, I want to check back in with Mr. Mayer. I’m worried he might do something. Take matters into his own hands."

John suggested, "I can talk with Detective Waters and have someone sent to his house to check on him if you are worried about it. "

"Yeah, I think we should," Kelsey agreed. "I don't know what it is, but I have this bad feeling in my chest that something awful is about to happen. I heard Greg Mayer arguing with the leader and saw the way he looked at him. If Greg believes their leader killed his wife, I think he will take his revenge."

"Okay, I’ll talk to Detective Waters now and have Greg picked up for his own safety. We don't want a serial killer and a murderous cult member on our hands."

Kelsey nodded and picked up her mug of coffee, taking a long drink. She went back to her laptop, trying to find any more information on the group, but she only came to dead ends.

The Preservers of Tomorrow. It was an apt name for a history group, looking at the past to better understand the present and preserve the future. It was also an apt name for a cult that killed people and mummified them to guide them into the afterlife.

Are you preserving the bodies for the afterlife? Is that what this is all about?

The two deceased victims hadn’t been named at the meeting the previous night, but Kelsey had to assume they were the ones mentioned. It would be too much of a coincidence not to be. She felt as if ants were crawling over her skin, eager to get out of the office and do something. She was worried about Greg Mayer and the leader of the cult, but so far, they had no evidence of any wrongdoing.

Kelsey’s phone ringing took her out of her thoughts. She took her phone from her pocket to see Sheriff Andersen was calling. Since moving to Winchburgh, Sheriff Anderson had become a father figure to her, and once Erica joined the town, to her sister, too. John had a calming effect on her, but so did the sheriff, just in a different way.

"Hey, Sheriff," Kelsey answered, expecting to be calling to check in how the case was going.

"I don’t want you to become concerned," Sheriff Anderson said, immediately making Kelsey concerned.

"What happened?" Kelsey demanded. "Is Erica all right? Has something happened to her?"

"She’s fine," the sheriff said. "She’s here with me and can stay with me for as long as she needs."

"What happened?" Kelsey repeated. "Something happened, didn't it?"

"Your sister was out in the town this morning, and she thought she saw someone following her. She was sure a man was after her, and with everything that was going on right then, she ran straight to the office. We have her here right now, and she’s having some tea, but she’s pretty shaken up about it."

"Was there someone?" Kelsey asked. Erica had been right in the past about seeing people, but she had also seen things that were not there.

"We haven’t found anyone," the sheriff said. "I have people out in town looking for any strangers, and they’re talking to the townsfolk, but no one has seen anyone out of the ordinary. Not yet. But I don't think she imagined it."

"No?" Kelsey asked. "There’s more, isn’t there?"

"When she came to the office, I sent people out onto the streets, and I had them check your apartment, too. Someone tried to force open your door, but they must have been scared off before they got in."

"What?" Kelsey gasped.

"Your neighbors didn't see or hear anything," Sheriff Anderson said. "We don't know at the moment if the two things are connected, but we are looking into it. As I said, Erica can stay with us for as long as needed."

"I need to come back home," Kelsey said.

"You don’t," Sheriff Anderson asserted. "You are needed there, from what I’ve heard, and there’s nothing you can do here that we can’t."

"Erica needs me," Kelsey said.

"Hawk, I know the situation is fluid at the moment, but all you can do is wait for the FBI to move. Erica might need you, but she needs safety, and I can give her that. She will be here when you get back, and the state needs you to figure out what is going on out there. Erica is safe in my company, but a killer is out there, and they will strike again, won't they?"

Kelsey sighed. "I think they will."

"So do what you are best at and catch them before they do," Sheriff Anderson ordered. "Then, get back here, be with your sister, and be ready when the FBI moves in. I know this is almost over, but that doesn't mean North Dakota doesn't still need your help."

Kelsey breathed through her nose, holding her phone tightly in her hand. She wanted to rush to her sister but knew the sheriff was right. She was needed in more than one place, but a serial killer on the loose took priority.

"Thank you for taking care of my sister for me," Kelsey said. "Call me as soon as you know anything else."

"You know I will," Sheriff Anderson said. "Stay safe out there."

"I will. Bye, Sherif."

Kelsey didn't put down her phone just yet. She found the number for Lucas Garcia, her FBI contact. She hit the button to call him and pressed the phone back to her ear.

"Hawk," Lucas answered.

"How’s everything going over there?" Kelsey asked.

"Slow," Lucas replied, "but what’s new? If you are calling for an update, I don't have anything else for you."

"I’m not," Kelsey told him. "I’m calling to warn you. My sister might have been followed this morning, and if she was, it was them. We haven’t found the person following her yet. Someone tried unsuccessfully to break into my apartment. If they are making a move, they might go after Philip Guppy, too. Pass this on to the team guarding him, and make sure to move him somewhere else for now and to be on the lookout for anyone or anything."

"No, yeah, I will," Lucas said. "Are you and your sister all right?"

"We are," Kelsey replied. "We were both out when they tried to get into our apartment."

"Good," Lucas said. "I’ll pass on the information."

"Thanks, Lucas," Kelsey said before hanging up.

She still felt like ants were crawling all over her, and she couldn’t sit still. Kelsey had to do something—not only to catch the killer but to get home to her sister. She couldn’t sit in the office anymore and needed to get out there and feel like she was doing something.

Kelsey got up from her desk and marched outside to find John. He would go with her, and she needed to share what had happened with Erica. Sharing the burden would make her feel less alone, and she knew he would want to know about and support her.

She opened the door and almost bumped into John as he came back in. He reached out and took her shoulder to prevent her from crashing into him.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked.

‘Yeah, sorry," Kelsey replied.

"We have the name of the guy who owns the farm," John said. "Marcus Kane."

"Good," Kelsey replied. "Let’s go and talk with him before anything else happens."

CHAPTER TWELVE

John flew down the highway in his truck on their way to Marcus Kane’s farm. They were going there in the daylight this time and hopeful that he wouldn’t be surrounded by a dozen armed cultists.

"If you want to go home at any point, we go home," John said. "I don't care what anyone says. If you want to be with your sister, then you go and be with her."

"Thank you," Kelsey said. "I want to be there, but I also want to catch this killer before they kill again. We just have to hope both victims were killed around the same time, and then he took a break. He killed them both three weeks ago, and that gives ample time between then and now to kill again without anyone knowing. Who knows how many bodies are in the process of mummification as we drive around chasing our tails."

"It’s them; I can feel it," John said. "They’re just creepy."

"They are, but we don't have anything on them yet. All we know is that they get together, but we don't know if they are connected to the deaths in any way. We have to remember that Kelly was Greg Mayer’s wife. He was angry about his wife’s death, even with everything surrounding it. I don’t believe he would let their leader kill her without putting up a fight."

"Do you think Greg Mayer could have killed her?" John asked.

"I think he’s capable of violence, but he doesn't strike me as someone capable of the precision needed to cut a body open and remove the organs to place them in jars."

"They still could have done it together." John pulled off the main highway and onto the same road they had taken to get to the farm the previous night. "Greg Mayer kills them, and Marcus Kane or his followers process the bodies."

"All I know is Greg and Marcus were arguing strongly last night. I want to know what that was about."

"I want to know what the cult is all about," John told her.

He slowed as they approached the farm, turning off into the farm this time instead of driving by to hide the truck. Much to their relief, there were no vehicles parked out front. Kelsey didn't like the idea of visiting as law enforcement when there were armed cult members on the property. She had ideas of Marcus Kane giving orders for someone else to do his bidding.

John parked the truck out front, and he and Kelsey exited the vehicle. Kelsey glanced at the storm door covering the open doorway to the farmhouse, and a figure appeared at the entrance. For a moment, she thought he was wearing a cloak, but it was just the way the darkness hit him. When he pushed open the door, she discovered he was wearing jeans and a checked shirt.

He was older than Kelsey expected, in his mid-fifties, and his black hair had streaks of grey. Yet, he was an attractive man with soft features, and when he smiled, it was a warm smile that drew people in.

"Marcus Kane?" John called.

"I am," Marcus replied. He spoke with the same voice as the leader of the cult had spoken with in the barn the previous night.

"Deputy Gallant," John said, showing his ID. "And my partner, Special Agent Hawk. Might we come in and talk with you?"

"Certainly," Marcus said with a smile. "I have some lemonade in the kitchen, and I won't take no for an answer."

"That’s very kind," John said.

Marcus continued to smile at them, then waved a hand for them to join him inside. He let the storm door swing closed as he left them to enter by themselves. Kelsey followed John to the house and entered after him.

"Right through here!" Marcus called, and they followed his voice.

The interior was not in the best condition, but it wasn’t dilapidated, either. Its dated and lived-in appearance suggested that Marcus had lived there for some time.

Kelsey suddenly stopped before an open door and looked in. Her heart beat faster when she saw some clay jars similar to the ones they had found with the bodies. The jars were not quite the same, a little smaller, but they were handmade and featured the same animal and human heads.

The room also contained various Egyptian artifacts, both old and new, and piles of books. Kelsey wanted to step into the room when another call came from the kitchen.

"You haven’t lost your way, have you?" Marcus called. He sounded both pleasant and authoritative.

Kelsey and John left the room for now, following the sound of the voice to the back of the house and into the kitchen. Marcus was waiting for them there, holding a pitcher of lemonade.

"I know it’s warm out, but we are shaded from the sun out on the back deck at this time of day," Marcus said. "Would one of you mind bringing the glasses?"

John obliged him, and he and Kelsey followed him out onto the back deck, beside which Kelsey had hidden the previous evening. When they exited the house, they had a full view of the barn and the silos behind.

"Please, sit down," Marcus said, the same smile still plastered on his face.

Kelsey couldn’t quite tell if the smile was welcoming or creepy. She took a seat beside John, the heat not overwhelming in the shade, and Marcus poured them lemonade. Kelsey sat a little forward to reach for her lemonade, but something stayed her hand. She decided not to drink any.

Marcus took a large swig of his before wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"So, what can I do for you?" Marcus asked.

"We’re investigating a possible double homicide," John told him.

"Oh my," Marcus said. "That’s terrible. I have heard some whisperings of deaths in the area."

"Do you own this farm?" Kelsey asked.

"I do," Marcus replied.

"Is it a working farm?" she asked, looking toward the silos. "Are the fields full of cattle and the silos full of grain?"

"No, not at all," Marcus said with a wave of his hand. "No, it is not a working farm at the moment. I own the land, but I don't want to farm it. My son would like to, but he has some things to put in place before he comes here to work with me, and then he will need to hire people to work on the farm. So, no, the fields and the silos are empty."

He looked at Kelsey the same way she looked at him, as if trying to work out exactly what she was asking, or perhaps, knowing exactly what she was asking him. He had a calm and commanding way about him, and there was a keen intelligence in his eyes.

"What is it you do?" John asked.

"I deal with Egyptian artifacts," Marcus said plainly. "I am somewhat of an expert in Egyptian customs and items, and I buy and sell anything connected to Ancient Egypt."

"That’s what we saw in the room we passed?" John asked.

"That’s why you took so long to join me in the kitchen. I don't mind you snooping around my property, but please ask if you would like to see anything."

"We noticed clay jars in the room," Kelsey continued. "You’re planning on selling them?"

"I am," Marcus said with a smile. "They are crafted down in Mexico, and I have a buyer lined up in Washington. They are not authentic, of course, far too small, and the detail is somewhat lacking, but the Mexican fellow down there has Egyptian heritage, so they can be promoted as authentic. An expert will easily spot the difference, but for the common person, it doesn’t matter all that much. They are not all that expensive, but they are hard to find in the US."

"So, you import and export fake Egyptian artifacts?" Kelsey asked.

Marcus chuckled. "You really do get straight to the point, don't you? I appreciate that, Special Agent Hawk. Yes, I suppose I do, but my passion is to get the real artifacts into the hands of those who will appreciate them. The artifacts in that room are common and cheap, but the sale of them subsidizes selling the legitimate artifacts, so I can't complain about it. If you would like to see the real thing, I can gladly take you down to my basement."

Do you have any canopic jars down there?" Kelsey asked.

"Ah, you know your stuff, Special Agent. No, I don't have any down there at the moment, though on an FBI salary, I’m not sure you wouldn’t be able to afford them."

"Do you know where you might get some around here?" Kelsey asked.

"Around here?" Marcus furrowed his brows. "If you are talking about the real thing, then you won't find them anywhere near here. Perhaps they will be uncovered in an archaeological dig in Egypt, but I have not managed to get my hands on one yet. They are overpriced as soon as they hit the market, and I don't have a list of contacts to sell to that others do. If you are talking about something like the cheap imitations I have in the room, then I don't believe there is anywhere in the state. Anyone proficient in pottery might be able to recreate them with some accuracy, but they will never be mistaken for an original."

"Do you have those skills?" John asked.

Marcus brought up his hands and looked at them. "Me? Goodness, no. I tried a pottery night once on the suggestion of a friend, and it went so badly that I swore to never try my hand at it again as a service to the rest of the world. It is best if I don't try to create things with my hands."

Marcus took another drink of his lemonade, and Kelsey noticed that John had joined her in not drinking any.

"Mr. Kane, you once ran a group called the Preservers of Tomorrow. Is that correct?"

Kelsey didn't know for sure if he had run it, but she was certain he had.

"Yes, that is completely correct," Marcus replied. "We were a small history group that met once a month to discuss anything and everything. I have a passion for Egyptology, as you might have guessed, and it allowed me to explore that some, but if anything, it was a social group."

"A social group?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes." Marcus's eyes lit up as he spoke. "I found that the type of person who came to a group to discuss history was not usually the type of person to have a wide social circle. I can point to myself on that note also. I found that while many of the members wanted to talk about history, what most of them craved was to just talk. They craved interaction with other people. So, over the years, we limited the talk about history, and we found companionship in each other."

"Did this group continue?" Kelsey asked. "I found some organized events online, but that ended two years ago. Did you continue to meet after that?"

"Oh, come, Special Agent Hawk," Marcus said. "Why don't you just come out and say it?"

"Say what?" Kelsey asked.

John sat forward in his chair, expecting something as Marcus’s tone shifted.

"Are we really going to beat around the bush like this?" Marcus asked. "I have been nothing but polite to you and your partner, and I have invited you both into my home when I would be well within my rights to report you to your supervisors and ask for your badges for trespassing last night. I know this is not your first time here. You had the nerve to trespass on my property, and you were almost shot as a result of that. I would have been well within my rights to have you both shot last night, and that would have been a tragedy for us all. Still, something must be done about your impudence, Special Agent Hawk and Deputy Gallant. Yes, you must have consequences for your actions."

Marcus suddenly stood up from his chair, and John quickly followed, grabbing Kelsey and pushing her behind him.

Then, a cracking gunshot.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kelsey gasped, unable to see what was happening.

"What are you doing?" Marcus shouted, his voice still polite but with more authority in it.

"Don't move," John ordered.

"Please put the gun down," Marcus said.

Kelsey looked around John to see John pointing his gun at Marcus, while Marcus stood with his arms by his side as if unbothered by the whole affair. The broken lemonade pitcher lay on the deck, the source of the loud crack.

"What are the consequences of our actions?" John asked.

"You pulled your gun on me for saying that?" Marcus asked. "I only meant that you should apologize for coming onto my property and spying on us."

"Why did you stand up?" John asked.

Marcus laughed. "I didn't know it was a crime now to get to one’s feet! I’m not armed, Deputy Gallant." Marcus lifted his shirt and turned in a slow circle to show there was no gun tucked into his pants or attached to his belt. "The reason I stood was to go into the kitchen to bring out the cookies I baked, but I wouldn’t want to face police violence for offering you sugar."

"How about we all just sit back down?" Kelsey suggested. "And we can put the gun away."

John immediately holstered his weapon but didn't immediately sit.

"Am I allowed to sit, or will I be attacked?" Marcus asked.

"Mr. Kane, we are all on edge right now, but how about we limit the sarcasm. When we were on your property last night, you were all armed, so you’ll excuse us for jumping to any conclusions."

"I hope everyone has permits for their weapons," John said.

"You will have to take that up with the individuals," Marcus said. "I can show you the permits for all of my guns. They are all legal; I can assure you of that, and I have taken multiple gun safety courses."

"I’d like to follow up if you have a list of names," John said.

"I don’t," Marcus replied with a smile. "I don't charge any fees to be a part of our social group, and I don't take names. As far as I am concerned, the character of the individual is far more important than their name or any other mundane details."

"You run a cult," John said.

The three of them still stood on the deck.

"No, I don't believe so," Marcus said. “We are a social club. If you saw any evidence of us acting like a cult last night, please let me know. I welcome feedback and would like to eradicate any cultish behaviors."

"We didn’t get a chance to watch you all night," John said. "And if you are not a cult, then why the robes?"

Marcus smiled again, clasped his hands together, and sat down again. "We wear cloaks. I can understand why they might look unfamiliar to you, but I find that a uniform brings people together. Once you strip away the outer shell, you can really see what is inside. I would be happy to gift you both a cloak if you wish. It's not ideal in hot weather, but it's very comfortable on colder days."

"No, thank you," John chimed.

"I heard you mention losing members last night," Kelsey said, now that everything was out in the open. "You were talking about Michael Reynolds and Kelly Mayer, weren’t you?"

"Yes, I was. It is such a shame to lose them, but we must move past that and not dwell too much on the past."

"Do you know what happened to them?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, I know exactly what happened to them," Marcus replied. “One of my members, who will remain nameless, works in law enforcement, and they relayed the information to me. I believed we would eventually be paid a visit."

"Then why not come forward?" Kelsey asked. "Why not get ahead of it?"

"We have nothing to hide, and it is not our responsibility," Marcus said.

"Two people are dead, and they both belonged to your social group," Kelsey told him. "They were both mummified, and you are an Egyptologist. We saw you congregating in cloaks last night, all of you armed as if you were expecting a war. You tell me what we are supposed to think about that?"

"I’m sorry," Marcus said with the same smile. "What laws have we broken? If you wish to accuse me of something, please come out and say it, but I have done nothing wrong, and you know it."

"Did you have anything to do with the two deaths?" John asked bluntly.

"Now, not at all. I appreciate the direct question, and I hope we can all be done with this."

"You argued with Greg Mayer last night," Kelsey said.

"I did," Marcus replied, unfazed by the question.

"What was the argument about?" Kelsey pushed.

"It was a lot of nothing," Marcus admitted. "Greg has always been an angry person, but that was exacerbated by the discovery yesterday after you visited his home that his wife was dead. He was very upset about it."

"And he blamed you for it," Kelsey said.

Marcus smirked as if he were impressed by the question. "I am unsure if he blamed me. He asked me if I had anything to do with it, and when I told him I didn't, he stormed off. I know Greg well enough to know that he would have resorted to violence if he truly suspected me of any wrongdoing."

"Do you believe you will see Michael and Kelly in the next life?" Kelsey asked.

"If we are prepared in the same way, then yes," Marcus replied. "I don't agree with what was done to them before they were mummified, but whoever did it, did them a service, and I believe they have now passed on to the next world. I applaud the work even if I don't agree with it."

"So, you want the same done to you when you die?" John asked.

"Yes, of course," Marcus replied. "Why wouldn’t you want that done? It is the only way to live on after death. Don't you see that?"

"No, I don’t," John replied.

"Do you know of anyone who would have the skills to do something like that?" Kelsey asked.

"I’m afraid I don’t," Marcus said. "I am an Egyptologist, but no one else in the group is. We are a social club, and we talk about life and death, but not only in the context of the two recent murders. I believe it is the right way, but not everyone does. Perhaps there are multiple ways to get to the afterlife. You both should join us sometime, and we can discuss it further."

"I don't think so," John said.

"I’d like you to write up a formal statement of your whereabouts over the past four weeks," Kelsey said.

"To prove that I didn’t kill them," Marcus said. "Yes, they must have been killed a few weeks ago to get them into that state before they were found. I will gladly recount the places I have been to the past month, though I mostly stayed on the farm. Of course, I have many visitors, so I am not often alone. I don't believe I will have any trouble providing alibis for any of the presumed times of death. Whatever I can do to help bring this madman to justice."

"Two people are dead, Mr. Kane, and they both attended your social group," Kelsey said. "We need a list of names for our investigation."

"And I don't have any names to give. If I did, I would happily pass them on."

Kelsey shook her head. "I would like to look in your barn and the silos."

"Of course," Marcus agreed. "Why don't you go do that now, and I will work with the deputy sheriff to go through my whereabouts over the past month. There might even be some cookies here when you come back if your partner doesn't shoot me first." Marcus beamed a smile at Kelsey.

She looked at John, and John nodded in agreement.

Kelsey didn't think she would find anything if he was agreeing to it too readily, unless he had come with cult members hidden and ready to take her out. If someone in law enforcement was a part of the cult, he might have known they were coming.

"Keep an eye on him," she told John before getting up from her seat.

She walked toward the barn, remembering the hooded figures who had made their way there eighteen hours earlier. They had not seen any additional vehicles on their way onto the farm, so she doubted there was an ambush, but she still kept her hand near her gun, just in case.

When she was back in the sun, she felt the heat beating down on her, almost pinning her to the ground. Her steps became heavy as she walked. Kelsey reached the barn and went in through the open front door. She only had to look quickly to the left and right to see that the barn was completely empty. She looked up at the hayloft window, where her head had been the previous evening.

The walls were unlit, and lanterns hung on the walls. The floor was hard earth with a few stray stands of straw. Apart from that, there was nothing else in the room.

Is it sparse because it truly is a social club, and all you do is come in to talk, or is it sparse so you can bring things in, perhaps some of your Egyptian objects?

Kelsey left the barn and headed for the silos. There were four of them, and they were all modern. The two they had found the bodies in were wooden. The ones on Marcus Kane’s farm were metal.

Kelsey reached out and pulled on the handle of the first silo. It creaked as it opened, and heat radiated out. She didn't have to put her head too much inside to see the silo was empty. Kelsey looked at the middle of the silo where a body would be placed if it were in there, looking for any sign that a body might have been there at some point, but it was clean. She repeated the search of the other three silos, coming up empty each time.

Kelsey still didn't trust Marcus Kane, but there was not much they could do with him. He was right. Apart from them being a part of his social cult, there was nothing else currently to connect him to the murders. Perhaps he had a motive in wanting them to pass on to the afterlife, but it was still not enough to arrest him or bring him in for more questioning.

Dejected, she returned to John, hoping that he had uncovered something that blew the entire case open.

Marcus stood up as she returned and held out a plate of cookies. The broken pitcher had been cleaned up. "Please, at least take some to go."

Kelsey looked at John. "He was very detailed." Then back to Marcus as he stood. "We’ll check in with the people mentioned on the list, and then we might have some more questions for you, so please don't go anywhere."

"This is my home," Marcus said. "Feel free to come back any time you like."

"Before we go, I do want to see the Egyptian artifacts that you have in your basement," Kelsey told him.

Marcus’s eyes brightened again. "I thought you would never ask. Follow me."

Kelsey followed him into the house and then to a doorway that led downstairs into a dark basement. Marcus pulled on a string at the top of the stairs to illuminate their way. The coolness of the basement was extremely welcome after being outside in the sun.

The basement was sparse, with a concrete floor. Kelsey studied the area as she followed Marcus to the other side, hoping to catch a glimpse of something that suggested he mummified bodies, but there was nothing. Marcus led Kelsey and John to a metal door with a keypad on it. He typed in four numbers, and the door clicked, a teen light appearing in place of the red one on the lock. He pulled the door open, and it was slightly disappointing that there was only a small cupboard behind it and not a room.

Marcus pulled out a box and placed it on the floor before bringing out the second and final box.

"I should have told you not to get your hopes up," Marcus said. "These pieces are rare, and there is not a lot circulating at any one time. I once had four artifacts in my vault. I hope you are not too disappointed." He carefully opened the first box to reveal an item packed in bubble wrap and foam, which he then unwrapped.

"A blue-glazed faience ushabati figurine, likely dating back to five hundred B.C.."

Marcus cradled it like a baby but didn't offer for it to be held.

"These were placed in tombs to serve the deceased in the afterlife. This one is worth twenty-five thousand dollars."

Marcus carefully rewrapped the artifacts and brought out the second.

"A bronze head of a cat, dating to around three hundred B.C.," he said. "Worth almost thirty thousand dollars. The cat represents the goddess Bastet, who was a fertility goddess. I don't have a buyer lined up for this one yet, but I won't have any problem finding one. I’m glad I got to share these with you, Special Agent Hawk and Deputy Gallant."

"We can show ourselves out," Kelsey said.

Marcus smiled at them and started putting the boxes back in the vault. Kelsey and John left the basement and then the house, got back in the truck, and drove away.

"I’m assuming you didn’t find anything," John said.

"The silos and barn were all empty," Kelsey replied. "You?"

"He gave a lot of information, and there were many people in his house over the past month. I don't trust him, so I’m not sure if any alibis we get will be legit or if he will have his cult members covering for him. Still, it might be a way to get in contact with his cult members. He maintained that he didn't have a list of names to give to us, but some of the names he gave as potential alibis must be cult members. Maybe we get them to talk more about what goes on in there."

"Good thinking," Kelsey said.

***

"Same again," John said as he unintentionally slammed down the phone. "That’s the fourth person I have called, and they back up what Marcus told me exactly. When pressed on the cult activities, they claim to have no idea what I’m talking about. I don't want to threaten them with arrest because I can't do that, but even mentioning the two dead bodies and the potential for more deaths does nothing. Either they are covering extremely well for him, or they are genuinely not involved."

"We have to keep trying," Kelsey said. "I still believe that Marcus Kane is hiding something, and I want to know what that is. We both got to be in his presence, and it’s not hard to imagine him being able to get people to do his bidding. Although, if we go through all the contacts he gave us and get nothing, then maybe they don't know anything."

"But he does?" John asked.

"Maybe," Kelsey confirmed. "I don't know what it was, but I can't shake the feeling that he wasn’t telling us something. No one is that nice all of the time. Didn't it seem like an act the entire time?"

"Yeah," John agreed. "He knew exactly what to say and when to play dumb. He let us into his house, knowing we were the ones who were there last night, and he withheld that until he could use it to throw us off-balance. I got the impression from him that he likes to be in control, and he knows just how to manipulate people."

"Exactly," Kelsey agreed. "Marcus said it himself about his group. They were all people who were reaching out for more social interaction. It’s likely many of them were reclusive loners like Michael Reynolds. Others likely had their own problems, like Kelly and Greg Mayer. Two people killed at around the same time from the same group? That doesn’t sound like a coincidence. If we don't get anything from the names he gave you, I want to go back and press him for the names. Maybe it’s him, or someone from the group, or some combination of him and the group working together."

"If that’s true and they close ranks, it might be hard to get them. If they all give each other alibis, we won't ever have enough to get them to trial."

"Then we have to look at other ways of getting them," Kelsey said.

John took a long breath and then let it out. "At least tell me you have something we can use."

"I don’t," Kelsey admitted. "We have the connection with the two victims being members of his group, but nothing to link Marcus to killing them. We do have an interest in Ancient Egypt, but it’s still not enough. Marcus did teach Egyptology at the university until four years ago, but not the same university as Michael Reynolds. I checked for any medical background, but there isn’t one. Nothing in his past to suggest he is capable of any surgical procedures."

"So, we don't have anything," John said.

"We have pieces to bring us closer and other prices that rule people out. I want to stay positive. I have to stay positive so I can get back to my sister and help her, and I need you with me on this, John," Kelsey complained.

"I know," John said quickly. "I’m sorry. I am with you on this. You’re right. We are in this together, and we will catch whoever is behind this. I lost focus for a minute, but I’m with you, Kelsey. I’ll keep going through the list."

"Hold that thought," Detective Waters said as he entered the small office. "I can take care of the list if you want to take care of Greg Mayer."

"What happened to Greg Mayer?" Kelsey asked.

"I sent an officer over to his place as requested to talk with him and bring him in so we could talk with him, and he freaked out and attacked my officer. Officer Grant had to taser him. He’s in a holding cell in Westfield—that was the closest town with a cell to hold him. I would go over there and talk some sense into him, but I don't trust myself right now. Officer Grant is a good man."

"We’ll go over there and find out what’s going on," Kelsey said. "Before we go, I have something else for you to check into. The gathering over on Kane’s farm is definitely a cult, and he told us he had a member from law enforcement in the area. See if you can find out who is supplying him with information so we don't have to force it out of him."

Detective Waters rubbed his forehead. "Jeez," he sighed. "Before yesterday, I had no idea there was a gathering like this right under my nose, and now I find out we have someone in the group. They should be feeding us information instead of the other way around. I’ll find out who it is, and you’ll be the first to talk with them."

"Thank you," Kelsey said. She looked at John. "You ready to go find out why Greg Mayer attacked a cop?"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kelsey and John walked into the police station as the sun was beginning to set. They went straight to the reception desk, introduced themselves, and asked about Greg Mayer.

"Yeah, there are a lot of us who would like a word with him after what he did," the officer at the reception desk said. "I don't know, Officer Grant, but you don't touch one of our own."

"You don’t," Kelsey agreed. "We need to talk with him about an ongoing investigation, but what you do with him after that is up to you."

"He’s facing some jail time for assaulting an officer."

"Are Officer Grant’s injuries severe?" John asked.

"No, but that doesn't matter. He attacked an officer unprovoked." The officer waved his hands in the air. "I shouldn't go on about it. It only makes me mad to think about it. We don't have an interview room, and I don't really want to let him out of the cell. Are you fine with some chairs at the cell?"

"That works for us," Kelsey said. "As long as we get to talk with him, it works for us."

"All right, then, just this way," the officer said.

He led them behind the reception desk, through a door, down a short corridor, and into an open area with cells against one wall. Only the middle cell was occupied. Greg Mayer sat on the metal cot, his head in his hands.

"Hey, grab two folding chairs," the officer said to the second officer guarding the cells.

The man went into a small storage cupboard and pulled out two black folding chairs. He whipped one in the air to unfold it before doing the same with the second. He adjusted them so that they were parallel to the cell and each other.

"He’s all yours," the officer said.

Kelsey and John sat before the cell. Greg Mayer lifted his head and looked at them, a sad smile appearing on one side of his mouth.

"I messed up, didn't I?" Greg asked.

"What happened?" Kelsey asked him.

"Do you mean, why did I attack a cop?" Greg asked. "Yeah, I’ve been asking myself the same thing. If you want the truth, it was because I was angry, and I lashed out at the first person who came to my door. Do I need a lawyer?"

"You do," Kelsey told him.

"In my defense, he tried to drag me out of the house when I would have come quietly if he had asked me a little nicer. And I’d been drinking since this morning, so I wasn’t in the best frame of mind."

"You should save it for your lawyer," John said. "We’re not here to talk to you about that, though we are the ones who suggested you be brought in for your own and everyone else’s safety."

"Yeah, that was probably smart," Greg said. "It’s a good thing he had a taser. If he hadn’t put me down, I would have put him down."

"What are you angry about?" Kelsey asked.

Greg’s shoulders bobbed up and down as he chuckled silently. "What am I angry about? My wife is freaking dead, and no one is doing anything about it."

"That’s what you argued about with Marcus Kane last night, isn’t it?" Kelsey asked.

Greg stopped dead and glared at Kelsey. "What do you know about that?"

"He told us that you were angry about her death, and you blamed him for it," John told him.

"He had no right to say that to you. What I talk about with him is confidential," Greg said. "Did he tell you why he was fired from his job?"

"He was fired?" John asked.

"Not officially," Greg said. "They told him he had to leave or he would be fired. The university didn't want to make a big deal of it and get a reputation, but the students were uncomfortable with some of the stuff he spoke about in his lectures."

"What did he talk about?" Kelsey asked.

"I don't know exactly, but he mentioned once that he pushed the boundaries too far when it came to death practices and that the masses were not ready to hear it yet. I don't know exactly what he said, but if he’s saying things about me, then I can say things about him."

"What did the two of you argue about?" Kelsey asked. "We’ll look more into why he left the university, but I want to know more about the argument. You believed he killed your wife. What did he say to you?"

"It was all a big misunderstanding," Greg said. "I was angry, and I lashed out. We spoke about it, and I can see now how wrong I was about him. He is a good friend to me, and he cares about me. I know he didn't murder my wife."

"How do you know that?" Kelsey asked. "What did he say to you?"

"He told me he didn't do it, and that’s good enough for me."

"You want us to look into his past at the university," John said. "You were angry that he spoke about you to us. You can tell us what you really think, Greg."

"I get confused sometimes," Greg replied, looking down at the concrete floor. "I lash out when I’m angry and don't mean it. I have nothing against Marcus. He’s a good man."

Kelsey could see Marcus's effect even from a distance. The last she had seen of the argument was Greg storming off angrily. Something had happened between then and now for Greg to calm down, and he didn't seem like a man who was easily calmed.

"We know he is the leader of your cult," John said.

"Is that what he told you?" Greg asked. "Marcus has a great sense of humor. We are not a cult; we are a social group, and we get together for fellowship. I assume he told you about the robes. It can be a little weird at times to wear them, but I must admit that they help me to deal with my anger issues."

Kelsey studied Greg. He spoke as if Marcus had gifted him the words, repeating lines to appease his questioners. Still, his anger bubbled below the surface, and Kelsey didn't know if it was the best option to dig into it to find out his true feelings about his leader.

"He did tell us about the cloaks," Kelsey said. "He told us a lot about the cult and the activities you all do together, and all the time, he told us it was a social club, just as you do. I have to admit, Greg, a lot of the group activities sound more cultish than social." Kelsey hoped John played along as she tried to unlock Greg. "You must have thought that yourself."

"Of course," Greg said. He even managed a smile much like the one Marcus wore. "People see the world a certain way, and if they were to hear about some of the stuff we do, they immediately put it into a box because they don't understand it. They call it weird because they don't know what it is like."

"But you do?" Kelsey asked. "Come on, Greg! You must find some of it weird. You can't take part in it all and think it’s completely normal. I know Marcus tells you it’s normal, but you must know deep down that he is controlling you."

"No one controls me," Greg said.

"Almost no one," Kelsey countered. "I wish you would be honest in how you feel, but he’s too deeply ingrained in you, Greg. You can't think for yourself anymore, can you?"

"Oh, screw you!" Greg shouted. “You don't know what you’re talking about. Yeah, there is some weird stuff in there, like the eye contact exercises or the giving of the self or the ritual of the last breath, but it’s because I don't understand it that I know it’s good for me. I was about as dumb as a sack of bricks all through school, and I’m not an educated man. If I understood it, I would know he was coming down to my level to get into my head. He doesn't care if I understand him or not—that’s what I like about him."

"Did you introduce Kelly to the group?" Kelsey asked.

"Screw you again!" Greg shouted. "Say what you really want to say. You want to blame me for her death for bringing her into the group, but he didn't kill her."

"So, the ritual of the last breath is not about death then?" Kelsey asked. "You don't go to these meetings and do death practices together?"

"You don't know what you’re talking about. It’s not a death cult. Yes, there are some death practice rituals, and we talk about death, but that doesn't mean we are a cul—a group of killers."

"Then talk me through the ritual of the last breath," Kelsey said. "Convince me that it’s not weird and we shouldn’t be looking at the group for the two murders, that we shouldn't be looking at you."

"At me? I didn't kill my wife, and I didn't know that other guy."

"The guy who was in your death cult?" Kelsey asked.

"Do you want to know what the ritual of the last breath is about?" Greg asked. "It's about feeling close to life. About clinging to life and feeling more alive. It’s not about death. If you actually sought to understand what we were doing there, you wouldn’t be in here asking me these ridiculous questions. I’ve told you everything that I know, so please leave me alone. I’m going to jail, and I don't care anymore. I’ve lost my wife, so what’s the point? Instead of being here questioning me, you should be out there catching her killer."

Kelsey knew he was right. And she didn't believe he was the killer of either of them. The way he spoke about his wife, even when it was cloaked in anger, was genuine. He harbored deep anger toward Marcus, but Marcus did have some control over him. Still, he was right on the edge of his anger, and Kelsey just needed a thread to pull at to get to the information she needed, the information she hoped was there.

Kelsey felt on edge, too, with her sister back in Winchburgh and needing her. She wanted to get back to her as quickly as possible. She tried to think of something to cut the case open like the victims’ stomachs had been cut open to remove their organs. She needed to get to the heart of the case.

So, she threw a Hail Mary.

"What about the animal sacrifices?" Kelsey asked.

Greg’s eyes widened a little as his head snapped to look at Kelsey, and he wasn’t able to control his reaction. "He wouldn’t tell you about that. Who have you spoken to?"

"It doesn't matter who we’ve spoken to," Kelsey told him. "All we know is that you have been sacrificing animals."

"No, just the one time," Greg said.

"It doesn't matter if it was one time or a hundred times, it was still a sacrifice. It was just like the sacrifices the killer made when he murdered Michael and your wife," Kelsey told him.

"That was a long time ago," Greg replied with a quiet intensity.

"I can see it reflected in your eyes," Kelsey said. "It was a long time ago, but it has stuck with you. They were similar, weren’t they? The way the animal was killed. What was it? A sheep?"

"Yeah," Greg said, nodding. For a moment, the anger had been removed from his body. "I didn't agree with it, and I thought it was wrong, but I went along with it. I had a morbid curiosity. I didn't tell Kelly about it. Marcus was the one who did it. He cut the sheep open and removed the organs."

"What did he do with them?" Kelsey asked.

"He… he put them in some jars and had us place our hands on the jars." Greg breathed heavily. "I don't know what happened, but I felt something go through me when I did, and I won't ever forget that feeling. I didn't agree with it, but it changed me."

"He killed a sheep and removed the organs," Kelsey said, making sure she had it right.

"It was above board," Marcus said. "He didn't break any laws. He killed the sheep, but he didn't kill my wife."

"What about Michael Reynolds?" John asked.

"I don't know," Greg admitted. "I didn't ask him about that. I don’t know if he killed him, but I know he didn't kill my wife. I shouldn’t be speaking so much. I want my lawyer before I say another word. Just get the heck out of here and leave me alone."

Kelsey stood up, and John followed. They still hadn’t ruled Greg Mayer out, but she didn't believe he was the killer. They now had some leverage to take to Marcus Kane to get the names of his members from him. And they had more pieces of the puzzle, pieces that pointed toward Marcus Kane.

"Hey," an officer called to them when they exited the lake room with the cells. "Detective Waters has been trying to get a hold of you. The reception is not great in the building, so he mustn’t have been able to get through and called us directly. He needs you to call him back."

Kelsey took out her phone and quickly walked through the bus station, dialing his number when she got outside to call him.

"Special Agent Hawk," he said almost immediately. "Your idea paid off. They found another one in one of the silos, and I’m told it was put there recently. I don’t think the killer meant for us to find the body so quickly."

"Give us the address," Kelsey demanded. "We’re on our way right now."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When Kelsey and John reached the farm, it was dark. The lack of streetlights and light pollution outside the town made it even darker, though it was also quite beautiful. When Kelsey got out of the truck, she looked up at the clear sky above, seeing more stars in the darkness than ever before. She took a moment to stare up at them, marveling at just how many there were. In the grand scheme of the universe, they were so very small.

I might be small, but I’m not useless. You slipped another past us, but I will catch you before this is done.

Detective Waters was not at the crime scene yet, but the officer who had found the body was. Officer Jenkins approached them with an older man in coveralls, and Kelsey immediately assumed the second man was the owner of the farm.

Kelsey and John showed their badges and introduced themselves, and the officer looked relieved to have them there.

"You’re the one who found the body?" John asked.

"Yes," the officer said. "I was expecting it the entire time, but you can't ever expect what I saw in there."

"The same as the others?" John asked.

"Yes," the officer replied. He gestured to the man by his side. "This is Mr. Trent. He owns the farm and the grain silos."

"Checked it two days ago," the farmer said. "It was completely empty."

"All right, so the body was placed there in the past two days," Kelsey said. "Was it due to be filled at some point, Mr. Trent?"

"No, it was done for the season," he replied. "I have four silos in total, and two of them are overflow silos. When we have a bumper harvest, they come in useful, but they are not always used, and when they are, they are only used near the beginning of the harvesting season."

"Okay," Kelsey said, thinking it through. "The killer must have known that. They knew the silo would be empty and didn't expect us to be searching all the silos in the area. Dang it, we could have caught him in the act if we were luckier."

"They know the wider area and the farms," John said. "They knew the silo would be empty and remain empty. Marcus Kane got information from someone in the department about certain things. Who's to say that he isn’t fed information about everything? His followers are good for a lot of things."

"You’re right," Kelsey said. "We’re looking for someone who has a lot of local knowledge. It keeps bringing us back to the Preservers of Tomorrow. We don't have a concrete link, but everything is pushing us in that direction."

"Two members from the group are dead," John said. "If we find out that this victim was a part of the group, then we have to bring Marcus in."

"Agreed," Kelsey said. "All right, let’s take a look."

Officer Jenkins left Mr. Trent with another officer and led the way with his flashlight. The shadows of the grain silos loomed large before the light fell on them. As was the case with the other farms where bodies had been found, not all the silos were new. Two of the silos on the farm were metal silos, while the other two were older wooden silos.

"The body is in one of the wooden silos, isn’t it?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes," the officer replied.

"We keep searching, but we narrow the search to only wooden silos," Kelsey said. "The killer is using them. Perhaps because they are older and have some significance, or maybe because they are the ones that aren’t used as often in favor of the more modern ones."

"The forensic team hasn’t arrived yet, but they should be here soon," Officer Jenkins said. He handed his flashlight to John. "I’ll wait out here while you go in."

John took the flashlight and led the way, entering the silo with Kelsey following behind. The scene within was exactly what they expected to find when they entered. The boy lay unclothed in the middle of the silo, a blanket pulled halfway down to reveal the torso. The victim was male, and the familiar incision adorned his stomach.

The four canopic jars sat around him. The victim had the familiar tint of mummification, the skin dry and tight, eyes hollow, cheeks sunken, but not to the extent as the previous two victims.

"The process was started somewhere else, and the killer moved them here. This kill is definitely more recent, but likely still a week or two ago," Kelsey said. "If the killer is Marcus Kane or someone from the cult, and they are being fed information, then maybe they change up what they are doing if they know we are searching silos."

"This also means all three victims were killed before we began the investigation of this case," John said. "We’ve been going through missing person reports, but there’s only a handful from this area in the past three months. What does that mean for us? Do they pick new victims who haven’t been taken yet, or do they stop once they’ve killed the people they already have?"

"I think they take more people," Kelsey said. "Maybe they stop for a while, but they start again. This is not about killing the people but shepherding them to the afterlife. I am positive they will continue with this for as long as they can. Maybe they have more bodies being mummified as we are searching for them, but they must be running out of options. I wish we could get ahead of this, but it feels like we’re still so far behind. If they target new victims, maybe that gives us some help. Although three people went missing two to three weeks ago, and no one knew a thing."

"The killer did. They knew who to target so they wouldn’t be found," John said. "If they need to take more people, they will target those who won't be noticed when they go missing."

Kelsey crouched down by the victim. His skin was yellowed and leathery, but it wasn’t as dry as the other two. No clothing meant no phone or ID, but they quickly identified the two previous victims. Kelsey hoped they would with the current victim, but she also knew time was skewed in the investigation. They had found all three bodies within the past three days, but they had all died weeks ago.

"Look at this," Kelsey said, pointing to the neck of the victim, but not touching the skin without gloves on. "It looks like another incision."

"So, his neck was cut," John said. "Two victims with the same method of kill."

"What if the first victim was a part of the process?" Kelsey asked. "Why starve the first victim and then slit the throats of the next two?"

"He tried the method with the first but became impatient with it?" John suggested.

"Perhaps," Kelsey agreed. "He keeps Michael Reynolds from eating, and when he dies, he mummifies him. It takes a long time, and he decides he can't wait that long again and kills Kelly Mayer soon after. Or, Michael was a willing volunteer and starved himself. The coroner told us there was no sign of a struggle or of being held against his will. Still, after that, the killer decides it takes too long and moves on to slitting throats. Still, the change in method could mean the first mummification was meant to be the only one.

"What if Michael Reynolds was a willing participant and agreed to do it? Michael dies of starvation and dehydration, and the killer mummifies the body. They find that they enjoy it; maybe they and Michael talk about the good it will do before he dies, and they feel compelled to do it to someone else, only there are no more willing participants. So, the killer becomes the killer, taking a life shortly after to repeat the process. They have a taste for it and take this victim soon after that. Now, they have three bodies in process. They believe they are doing something worthwhile and good. They like doing it, and slitting the throat is only a means to an end. The good that comes from it will negate the murder."

"So, what does that mean for the case?" John asked.

"It means they won't stop. They have purposefully murdered at least two people, and they take pride in their craft. My worry is if they are out of victims after placing the three in silos, they won't only take new victims one at a time. They might be out there, looking for three, four, five new victims. We need to stop them now before they kill a whole batch of people."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Kelsey didn't feel rested the next morning as they drove toward the house of Alison Cooper, the sister of James Cooper, a local attorney and the most recent victim of mummification.

"Do you need more coffee?" John asked as they drove.

Kelsey tapped her to-go mug filled with coffee and took a bite of her bagel. She chewed and swallowed before saying, "Not yet, but I will need plenty more before the day is out."

"You didn't sleep well in that bed still?" John asked.

"You did?"

"I’m doing my best to get enough sleep for the both of us," he told her as he drove.

"If I wasn't completely wrecked by the lack of sleep, I might find that funny," Kelsey told him. "As it is, it's a good job. I like you so much, John, or I might not be held responsible for my actions."

"And I’m lucky that you like me so much," John said with a smile. "Once the case is done and the FBI have made their move, I’m making sure you get as much rest as possible. Whatever you need, Kelsey."

"I would say that I only need you and Erica, but I could really do with a good night of sleep."

"I’ll make it happen," John told her. “I don't know how, but I’ll make it happen. So, what do we know about the victim?"

"James Cooper, forty-three years old, works as an attorney on small claims cases and other things. Lived with his sister, Alison Cooper, for the past five years. No missing person report on him. He was likely killed two weeks ago, and she didn't know he was missing."

"That sounds suspicious," John noted.

"It does at first glance, but our killer is smart and targeted people who wouldn’t be missed if they went missing," Kelsey said. "There’s more to this than his sister not noticing him gone."

"Maybe she’s the killer, and we find a ton of Egyptian stuff in her home," John said.

Kelsey didn't say anything.

"We’re not going to find that, are we?" John asked.

"No, I don't think so," Kelsey said.

They drove on in silence, Kelsey finishing her coffee and bagel. By the time they reached the house, she felt more awake and refreshed. They got out of the truck and walked up to the front door of the house to knock. It was early, and there were no lights on inside, but after knocking a few times, a light appeared in one of the upper windows, and then another light downstairs.

The woman who opened the door did so in a robe, but not one like the robes worn by the cult members. This one was pink and fuzzy and didn't have a hood.

"Yes?" she asked, confused. She tried to blink the sleepiness away.

Kelsey and John pulled out their badges. Kelsey felt much like the woman looked.

"Alison Cooper?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes," she replied. "You’re an FBI agent? What’s going on?"

"Let’s go inside," Kelsey suggested.

Alison pulled her robe a little tighter and looked past Kelsey and John into the street. She nodded quickly and invited them in. She walked through to the living room and then turned to look at Kelsey and John with a worried look.

"I… do you mind if I get dressed?" she asked. "I’m not planning on making a run for it."

"Don't worry, we’re not here to arrest you," Kelsey said. "We only want to ask you a few questions."

"Yes, okay." Alison turned to go back upstairs but stopped. "Why are you here?"

"We need to ask you some questions about your brother," Kelsey told her.

"Oh, okay, yes. I’ll get dressed, and then I will be right down."

Kelsey and John watched her leave.

"She doesn’t seem to be all that worried about her brother," John said. "What if she is making a run for it up there?"

"Then we know she has something to hide, and I have no doubt that between the two of us, we’ll hear her sneaking out and be able to chase her down and catch her. Although, from what I’ve seen so far, she doesn't strike me as the type who is inclined to run, either from the police or as a leisure activity."

They stood in the small living room and looked around. There were two armchairs, one for Alison and one for her brother, and a small dining table with two chairs. Everything suggested they had never had company, which fit with the killer's choice of people who kept to themselves.

Kelsey went to the bookshelves, a couple of rows filled with worn paperbacks and two rows filled with legal textbooks. Kelsey wondered if James Cooper ever taught. Michael Reynolds was a professor, and Marcus Kane once taught history. Was that a connection worth following?

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," Alison said. She wore a pair of black slacks, a floral blouse with a grey cardigan over it, and tan slippers. "Shall I make some coffee for us?"

"No, don't worry about that," Kelsey said, even though she could go for more coffee. She didn't want to delay in getting to the questioning, and she and John could pick some up right after.

Alison nodded and sat down in one of the armchairs. John gestured that Kelsey take the other chair while he stood.

"You mentioned that this was to do with James. Is this for a case he’s working on? I’ve been racking my brains trying to think what the case could be, but he has worked on all manner of things over the years."

"Miss Cooper, when was the last time you saw your brother?" Kelsey asked.

The question changed the entire tone of the conversation, and Alison’s mouth tightened. "Has something happened to him?" she asked with obvious concern. "He left just over two weeks ago."

"Do you know where he went?" Kelsey asked, ignoring the question of what had happened to him for now.

"He had a client to visit in Fargo," Alison said. "He told me he wouldn’t be back for a while."

"Do you know who the client is?" John asked. "Or what the case was about?"

"I have no idea," Alison said. "I got up that morning, and there was a text from James telling me he was on his way to Fargo and he would let me know when he would be back."

"So, he never spoke to you directly about the case?" Kelsey asked.

"No, the first I heard about it was when I received the text. I assume it must be important if he had to rush off like that."

"Did he often do things like that?" John asked.

"No, never," Alison said. "This is the first time he has ever taken a trip like this. How about I call him now? I don't even know what has happened. I’m sure James can clear up any misunderstandings. He texted me yesterday morning to let me know everything is progressing well."

"He texted you yesterday morning?" Kelsey asked.

"I have never heard from him so much," Alison said. "Texts in the morning and evening, each telling me the case is going well, and he shouldn’t be much longer in Fargo. He said that after two days, he wouldn’t be much longer, and he said the same thing this morning. He must have a crazy client to keep him so long. I really don’t know with some of these cases."

"Can I take a look at his messages?" Kelsey asked.

"Has he become mixed up in something serious?" Alison asked as she handed Kelsey her unlocked phone.

Kelsey ignored the question again as she checked her phone. She scrolled through James's messages, reading the generic texts that confirmed James was doing fine with the case but did not say much else.

"They have James’s phone," Kelsey told John. "I need to make a call. Alison needs to know the truth."

"Yeah," John said sadly.

"I’ll be back with this," Kelsey told Alison, indicating the phone. She left the living room and moved down the hallway, away from where John was about to break the news to Alison. She dialed Lucas Garcia at the FBI.

"It’s early," Lucas answered.

"Are you in the office?" Kelsey asked.

"I am," Lucas affirmed. “We’re vigilant about Philip Guppy, but no one has attempted to reach him."

"Good," Kelsey said. "I need you to trace a number for me, and I can wait while you do."

"What’s the number?" Lucas asked.

Kelsey read the number from Alison’s phone.

A short wail came from the living room, and the sound pierced Kelsey in the heart. It was all she needed to know about Alison Cooper. She was not involved in her brother’s death in any way. She also felt for John in having to be the one to break the news.

"There’s no signal anymore," Lucas relayed.

"Dang it," Kelsey said. "He used the phone until yesterday morning. How about recent data?"

"North Dakota," Lucas said. "Close to the town of Dunwich."

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," Kelsey said. It didn't help all that much as they were already sure the person was local. "Send me any data you have. Maybe we can use that to determine the killer’s movements."

"I’ll send it right over as soon as I have everything downloaded," Lucas said.

"Thank you, Lucas." Kelsey hung up the phone and went back through to the living room.

John sat forward in the armchair she had sat in to be closer to Alison, but he wasn’t close enough to reach out and comfort her. She had a handkerchief and was holding it over her nose.

"I’m sorry," John said. “We will connect you with someone local to help you through this, but we have some other leads to follow up on."

"Go," Alison ordered, finding strength in the news. "Please, just find whoever did this."

John nodded and got up from the chair. Alison didn't look at him or say a word as he headed toward Kelsey, and then the two of them left the house.

"The killer destroyed the phone after sending that last text to Alison," Kelsey said. "The phone had outlasted its usefulness, but it was enough to stop her from calling the police to report him missing. It gave the killer time to place the body and get out of there."

"Does it tell you anything new?" John asked.

"Not yet," Kelsey said. "I’m waiting on all of the data being sent over."

"I got something from Alison," John said. "She mentioned to me that there was one other thing out of character not long before he left town. He had found some sort of group online, but he didn't say anything about the group. He hadn’t attended yet, but he was planning on it. It has to be the Preservers of Tomorrow."

"Then let’s pay Marcus Kane another visit right now," Kelsey said.

***

They didn't have to knock on the door when they returned to Marcus Kane’s farm. The sun was finally above the horizon, and the dawn was pregnant with bursts of yellow and orange-tinted clouds, but Marcus was fully awake, and he opened the door with a large smile on his face as if he had been expecting them.

"Good morning!" he called from the front door. "I was just about to put some coffee on, so I’ll add a few extra scoops for both of you. Feel free to take a look around outside and come join me when you are ready."

Kelsey disliked Marcus Kane more. He had a way about him that put him in control of the situation. She didn't want to look around outside, but going in immediately felt like he was summoning them. Yet, taking a look around outside for no reason and then going in felt like they were doing exactly as he asked. No matter what they did, it felt like they were following his orders.

There was no real reason to stay outside any longer than necessary, so Kelsey headed straight for the front door. She wanted to refuse any coffee, but her entire body begged for it. She threw open the door and strode through the house to the kitchen.

"How do you recruit new members?" Kelsey demanded.

"Mainly through word of mouth," Marcus replied softly. "We are open to everyone, but we must ensure the right fit for both the individual and the group."

"What does that mean?" Kelsey asked. "Do you meet with them?"

"Yes," Marcus replied. "I have the final say on all potential members. I know what is best for our group."

"Have you interviewed anyone for the group recently?" Kelsey asked.

Marcus pressed the button on the grinder to grind the coffee, the noise drowning everything else out for a few seconds before he let go of the button.

"Yes, a few people," Marcus replied.

"Who?" Kelsey asked.

"As I told you before, I am not interested in names. I don't take any names when I meet with people, so I really can't give you any. Know that I wish I could, as I appreciate the serious nature of this investigation, but I don't have any information that will help."

Kelsey took out her phone and pulled up a photo of James Cooper to show Marcus.

"Do you recognize this man?" Kelsey asked.

Marcus looked at the photo but didn't respond immediately. He removed the kettle from the stove and poured hot water over the coffee in the filter. He answered only once the water was poured.

"Yes, I met with him, but he was not a good fit for our group," Marcus said.

"When did you meet with him?" John asked.

"It must have been four or five weeks ago, and I never saw him again after that," Marcus replied.

"He was found dead this morning," John told Marcus.

Marcus nodded and rummaged in the cupboard above the countertop for some mugs.

"Three people are dead, and they are all connected to your group, Marcus," Kelsey said. "The third victim only spoke to you. Where were you over the past two days?"

"You know some of where I was over the past two days when you spied on me and then visited me yesterday. Should I come to expect you both on most days? I do welcome visitors to my farm."

"This is serious," John warned Marcus.

"I understand it is, and if you want my whereabouts at specific times on those days, I will be happy to give that to you, but I didn’t kill that man, just as I didn’t kill the other two. I know the insinuation. As I am the only member of the group to meet with the recent victim, you assume I must have been the one who killed him. That discounts two other options."

"Which are?" John asked.

"That the connection to my group is purely coincidental, or the person who killed them is the member of the group who recommend them. I don't remember who recommended the gentleman to me, but I will do you both a favor. I shall call an assembly of our members for this evening, and you will have the chance to question them all individually. How does that sound?"

Kelsey was irritated by his control of the situation, but it was what was needed.

"Call the meeting," she said. She also hated that he was right. Marcus was a prime suspect, but so was every member of the group, especially the person who had referred James Cooper. And they couldn’t discount that members talked with each other and more than one person knew James.

"While we have coffee," Kelsey said. "I’d like to discuss why you were forced to leave the university for your views. Greg Mayer had a lot to say about that."

"It’s awful that he was arrested, but it's a mistake of his own making. I’m sure he feels like a rat trapped in a cage and will say anything to get out of there; however, what he said about me is likely the truth. I wanted to teach my students about what comes after death, but it was too radical for the university. They wanted me to focus on the past and not the future, and I realized it was not the job for me. I hoped I could relay my teachings to the students before they were brainwashed by the university, but I was on a sinking ship. They threatened to fire me, and I gracefully quit. That is all there is to it, but you are welcome to contact the university to have that confirmed. Now, please follow me out, and we can commune together."

Kelsey gritted her teeth and followed Marcus outside. She still couldn’t work him out. If he was the killer, he wouldn’t want to spend so much time with an FBI agent and a deputy sheriff in case he was caught in a lie, but Marcus was also arrogant and confident enough to keep them close to try and manipulate them.

"You sacrificed a sheep in the barn with the cult members," John said.

"Please don't speak of us like that," Marcus said. "We are not a cult."

"So, you don't deny sacrificing a sheep and placing organs in clay jars?" John asked.

"No, I don't deny that at all. It was a very worthwhile practice, and our members got a lot out of it."

"And you didn't think to mention it in connection to the murders?" Kelsey asked.

"Not at all," Marcus replied cheerfully, "because it has nothing to do with the murders. This was done a long time ago and to a sheep. Some of the members wished to know what the Ancient Egyptians did, and I showed them."

"Did you mummify the sheep after?" Kelsey asked.

"Goodness, no," Marcus replied. "We butchered it and ate it. We never want good food to go to waste."

"It never crossed your mind that one of your members might have copied the act but on a person and not a sheep?" Kelsey asked.

"No, it never crossed my mind. What was done to those people is far beyond what I did to the sheep. They did not copy what I did. The killer is far beyond that. I am a novice compared to them."

"Another coincidence," John said.

"I have been thinking about the deaths since you first visited me," Marcus said, once they were outside. "I guess it was from the second time you visited me. The coincidence is overwhelming, and everything points to the killer being one of my members. If they had truly listened to me and my words, they would not have turned to murder. Special Agent Hawk, I know enough about you to know you will be the one to catch the killer. I offer them to you on a silver platter. Soon, everyone will be assembled here. I give the killer to you. You only have to get their names, run background checks or whatever it is you do, and remove the evil from the Protectors of Tomorrow."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kelsey and John watched from the farmhouse's back deck as the cult members congregated and made their way toward the barn. This time, they didn't wear their cloaks, having been instructed by Marcus not to. A couple of them looked back at Kelsey and John on the back deck as they passed, but they didn't pay them any attention.

It obviously wasn’t unusual for Marcus to call them together at the last minute. Most of them were in good spirits as they arrived and headed toward the barn.

The door behind them opened, and Marcus stepped out, smiling.

"I have not told them why they are here," Marcus informed them. "I wish to remain as impartial as possible so you can get the results you desire. We are in this together now.

"We are not in this together," John told him.

"You need not resist, Deputy Gallant," Marcus said. "You want to catch the killer, and I wish for that, too. If there is a killer in our midst, I want them taken tonight."

It sounded like another order, and it rubbed Kelsey the wrong way. She also couldn’t be sure if he had told them what the meeting was about or not. They had remained at the farm the entire day, not wanting to let Marcus out of their sight.

It had been a slow day. Lucas had sent over the phone data, but it had not given them much. It showed the phone being in the general area of Dunwich, but not with any accuracy. Over the past two weeks, the phone was only used to text Alison Cooper, but the location of the phone when texting did vary slightly. It could be that the killer lived in the area and traveled to the area before sending the texts.

If they were as smart as Kelsey thought the killer was, they wouldn’t be using the phone where they live, though that was only an assumption.

"Shall we?" Marcus asked, his smile wide and his arms open. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"Let’s go," John said.

They walked with Marcus toward the barn and the cult members contained within. The last time they had seen them all together, the cult members were all armed. There was no sign of guns on their way past toward the barn, but that didn't mean there weren’t any.

John had also called the university earlier in the day to check up on Marcus’s story. The university didn’t say much about it, and it sounded as if they wanted to keep it hushed to protect what reputation they had. They did confirm that Marcus was asked to leave after making some of the students uncomfortable by having them perform ritualistic acts in class. No one was ever hurt, and none of the students wanted to take it any further than making a complaint. Marcus Kane quit of his own volition.

She entered the barn after Marcus Kane and saw the way his members looked at him with complete adoration. They stopped talking amongst themselves and paid him complete attention. It scared Kelsey to think of someone having that much power over people. She wondered what had driven them to be so reliant and attentive to one man. There was no denying that Marcus Kane had charisma, but the power he wielded was worrying.

Still, with their attention completely on their leader, it allowed Kelsey to scan the faces and reactions.

Marcus Kane reached his arms out to the side. "Welcome, brothers and sisters. It heartens me that so many of you accepted my call earlier and are here now."

Kelsey only hoped the killer was among them. If they had been tipped off, they might not have shown.

"This is an administrative meeting, so we will not have community this evening other than the community we always have when we are together. I ask that you respect our two esteemed guests as you respect me or until they show they are not worthy of our respect, which I hope will not happen.

"Our first point of action is to mourn the loss of one of our brothers. I have been in contact with Greg Mayer, and he will face prison time for assaulting an officer of the law. While we mourn his absence, we must understand that he made a mistake, and he must face the consequences for that, just as we all face the consequences of our actions. I ask that you keep Greg in your thoughts as we commune together."

Kelsey thought it was interesting that Marcus used the man's name when he had mentioned many times not knowing names or even needing them. The group as a whole didn't seem surprised that Greg was named.

"Allow me to introduce our guests for this evening," Marcus said as if he were presenting entertainment. "Special Agent Kelsey Hawk is here from the FBI, and Sheriff’s Deputy John Gallant is here from the Winchburgh Sheriff’s Office. Please extend your warmest regards to them. They are here this evening to investigate the murders of three individuals, two of whom were a brother and sister we have mourned. They have suspected me of these murders but have been proven wrong by my multiple alibis. They now suspect that one of you is responsible for the deaths of three people. I shall not hinder any questions they have for you in regard to any wrongdoing or illegal activities."

Kelsey really disliked his introduction, which pitted them directly against the group. She watched the members as he introduced her and John but didn't detect any ill will in any of the faces.

Kelsey stepped forward. "Thank you all for coming here tonight. My name is Special Agent Hawk, and we would love to get to know you." Kelsey mentally kicked herself for how cheesy the introduction sounded. "Deputy Gallant and I will be interviewing each and every one of you, and we appreciate your honesty and openness with us. I wish to thank Marcus for allowing us into your meeting tonight and for his complete transparency." She hoped the second part of the introduction made them more willing to talk.

Kelsey looked around the group while John went to the nearest person. Most of the faces looked a little concerned, as people often do when an officer of the law wants to talk with them, even when they are innocent of any wrongdoing. Except for one of them, a young man. She recognized a look in his eyes from years of being around police officers.

She immediately pointed at him and gestured for him to come to her, which he did obediently. "Can I please take your name?"

"Um, Colin Tallow," the man replied, nodding nervously.

"What is it you do, John?" Kelsey asked.

"I, uh, work for the Leister Police Department not far from here," he replied.

"Okay, so Officer Tallow. It’s a pleasure to meet you," Kelsey said. "You must be the one Marcus has told us all about. You’re the one who has been passing on information about the victims to Marcus."

"I haven’t done anything illegal," John said.

"Haven’t you?"

"I… I don't believe so. I wanted to keep our leader updated so he would best know how to go about planning future meetings."

"I don't understand how that would be relevant," Kelsey said. "Surely, any meetings are not affected by bodies being found. I mean, the bodies weren’t found anywhere near here. Is there anything you want to tell me, Officer Tallow?"

"I haven’t done anything wrong, and neither has our leader. I was asked about the murders, and I saw no reason to lie about them."

"So, he asked you for the information?" Kelsey asked.

"You make it sound as if he has nefarious intent."

"I said nothing about that," Kelsey said. "I only want to know why he asks you about the murder victims and why you shared intimate details about the case."

"I… I…"

"Don't be shy, Officer," Marcus cut in. "A misguided attempt to protect me when there is no need. The truth is that there are many people I rely on for information to better understand the world we live in. You could point to Officer Tallow and the information on the murders he gave to me or any of our farmers who have told me about their grain silos, none of which have ever contained dead bodies, or my personal knowledge of Egyptian burial rites and put it all together to form a picture that I am the killer. I am not, and we have established that. I have concrete alibis. Please don't have any ill intent toward any members for passing me information I requested, Special Agent Hawk."

"Thank you for clarifying," Kelsey said.

Marcus hovered over the proceedings as if he needed to steer them in his favor. However, he was right about the alibis. They had checked his whereabouts over the past four weeks, and he didn't have a chance to dump the bodies or seemingly have the time to mummify them. Unless the two-dozen people they had called were adept at lying and were willing to cover for him.

"Officer Tallow, I’d appreciate it if you could provide a summary of your whereabouts over the past two days. We will need your whereabouts over an extended period, but the last two days will suffice for now."

"Of course," Officer Tallow said. "I am at the end of a seven-day stretch of shifts, and I was with my partner for the past five of those seven days and another officer for the two days before that. I can give you the contact details for both. Then, the evenings were spent with my wife, who you are also welcome to call. I was wiped in the evening from working seven shifts in a row, so we stayed in each night. She will corroborate that for you."

"Thank you," Kelsey said. We will follow up for full statements in the next twenty-four hours."

The officer nodded and smiled, happy to be done with the interrogation. Kelsey looked toward John, who was talking with a young woman, and she looked happy to talk to him, her arms moving animatedly as she did.

Kelsey had wanted to find the officer in the crowd and had done that. She moved on to the next person closest to her, but out of the corner of her eye, she could sense movement. She held steady for a moment to watch the figure as they inched closer to the barn door, and she knew what was coming.

Kelsey looked toward the man, catching his eyes, and everything froze.

"Stay with them!" Kelsey shouted to John before the man bolted for the door.

Kelsey bolted after him, out into the darkening night.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Stop!" Kelsey shouted once outside.

The command did nothing to stop the man from running.

He ran from the barn toward the four silos, and Kelsey thought he might be heading for one of them, but he ran around the side of them and became lost from view. Kelsey quickened her pace, keeping in mind that the man might be armed.

She hadn’t gotten a good look at him, and her worry was that Marcus Kane would not supply them with a name even though she was sure he knew more than he was letting on, and if the group was fully behind him, they wouldn’t give the man up, either.

Kelsey rounded the side of the silos and lost him completely. It was getting dark but still light enough to see any shadows moving across the horizon. She stood for a second, trying to find him across the fields before her instincts kicked in, and she ran down the back of the silos to the other side. It was the only way he could have gone.

She got to the end of the silos and doubled back around them and toward the house. She knew where he was going now—toward his car to escape.

"Stop!" Kelsey shouted again. "I am armed, and I will shoot if you try to leave."

She slowed as she got near the dozen or so vehicles. If he got into one, the interior would light up, and she would spot him. She crouched as she walked in case he took a shot at her and stopped when she got to the closest vehicle, a blue car, looking over the hood for any movement between the vehicles.

Kelsey listened. She had a hunch that he was somewhere amongst the metal, hiding between vehicles and biding his time.

"You don't need to do this!" Kelsey called. "All we want to do is talk with you."

There was no response from the fleeing man. She was sure he was close to her, but there was the chance he had run off somewhere else, and she really had lost him. She couldn’t stay there all night and sit, especially with it getting dark. There was the thought of getting down on her belly to look underneath and try to spot him, but he was waiting for her to make a move before he made his. If she got down and he ran, she would lose precious time.

So, she moved around the front of the car, her feet crunching on the gravel. She listened carefully for the sound of him stepping. Kelsey placed her hand on her gun, ready to pull it if she needed to. She moved around a small red car parked next to a blue minivan, and as she rounded that, he made his move.

Kelsey threw her arms up, forgetting about her gun, and he came barreling toward her. Kelsey’s face was protected as he slammed into her, but his momentum was too much, and she was thrown to the gravel with a thump, hitting her spine and the back of her head.

It wasn’t the first time someone had knocked her down, and her instincts kicked in again, even as her head throbbed. She reached out her arm and swiped at his foot, connecting and knocking it into the other. The man grunted as he tripped over his own feet, and there was a second thump as he went face-first into the ground.

Kelsey thrust herself up and drew her gun, pointing it down at the man.

"Don't you dare move!" she commanded.

The man craned his neck to look behind and then sighed through his nose, looking back at the gravel while shaking his head. He brought his hands to the back of his head and interlaced his fingers.

Kelsey kept her gun trained on him while she looked toward the barn to see John in the doorway.

"Take care of the rest of them," Kelsey said. "I’ll call for a patrol car to come pick us up, and I’ll see you back at the station.

She couldn't see if John nodded or said anything in reply, but he went back inside.

"What’s your name?" Kelsey asked the man on the ground.

"I want a lawyer," he said.

"Why’d you run?" Kelsey continued.

"I want to see my lawyer," he repeated.

"All right, let’s get you down to the station with your lawyer and then have a little chat."

***

Kelsey sat in Westfield Place Station, the closest place with a cell to hold the man she had arrested at Marcus Kane’s farm. He was currently housed in the same cell Greg Mayer had been in before they had taken him to a larger facility in Fargo. The man from the farm was still not talking, but Kelsey had found out his name: David Harper.

John joined her at the police station shortly after eleven after interviewing everyone at the farm. Five minutes after John arrived, the lawyer went to the holding cells to talk with his client.

"Anything?" John asked.

"He hasn’t said a word to anyone except to give his name," Kelsey said. "I looked into him, and he has no record. I don't know anything except for that. How did it go at the farm?"

"There’s a lot of following up to do," John said. "I’ve passed the list of names to Detective Waters, and he’ll follow up with the alibis and then contact the same people to go over alibis for two and three weeks ago. They won't get much done now with it being so late, and it’ll take some time for them to go through everything once they start. It could be a day or two before all of the alibis are confirmed."

"You speak as if you think they will all be confirmed," Kelsey said. "Did you get that impression?"

"I did," John admitted. "I might not be as good as you at reading people, but everyone felt on the level. No one was guarded when talking with me, and Marcus even stepped in at times to prompt them to be more honest. I felt they were being honest with me. It was almost too good to be true."

"What do you mean?" Kelsey asked.

"I don't know," John admitted. "It was either that they are all telling the truth and really have nothing to do with it, or they have been brainwashed by Marcus Kane, and he told them exactly what to say if we ever questioned them. I really don't trust him."

"I don't either," Kelsey said. "He told us he didn't know the names of members, but he obviously does. And he has people feeding him information. I don't buy that he has them doing that so he can understand the world. If he is our killer and they will stick to their stories, then we won't ever get him."

"So, how do we get his followers to crack?" John asked.

"I don't know. Let me ask you a question. Do you believe the followers are lying, or do you hope they are because of how you feel about Marcus?"

"It’s to do with how I feel about him. I wished every moment I was interviewing them that someone would slip up and they would admit everything."

"He has alibis, but we know the time frames are a little loose for times of death and when they were placed in the silos. He might be working with one or more of his followers, but he’s highly intelligent. He knows how to manipulate people, and he knows the limits of people. I don't see him taking a risk and hoping his followers don't crack."

"So, he isn’t the killer?" John asked.

"It’s a possibility," Kelsey replied. "The other possibility is that he is the killer, but none of his followers know. Maybe he uses them as alibis, and they are unaware of it."

"Then how do we catch him?" John asked.

"I don't know," Kelsey admitted. "He’s smart. We’ve gone up against smart people before, and they always leave a trace. What has he left for us?"

"He’s coming," John said, looking up toward the door to the holding cells.

He and Kelsey both stood up as the lawyer exited the large room.

"Is he ready for us?" Kelsey asked.

"My client is not in a state to talk," the lawyer said. "I am told he was thrown to the ground before he was arrested. He needs to rest until he is thinking straight, and he will be more than happy to talk with you in the morning."

"I arrested him after he knocked me to the ground," Kelsey said. "I am well enough to talk, and he has become our prime suspect in a triple homicide. We will speak to him tonight, so if you would like to go back in there and tell him that, we would appreciate it."

"My client didn't say anything about a murder investigation," the lawyer said.

"I wonder why," John noted.

"I’ll talk to him again," the lawyer said, clearly shaken.

"How about we all talk to him together?" Kelsey said. She didn’t wait for an answer or protest and followed the lawyer as he returned to talk with David Harper.

"You didn't mention the murder investigation," the lawyer said angrily to David as he approached the cell.

"I have nothing to do with that," David said. "I didn’t murder anyone."

"Your lawyer told us you didn't want to speak with us tonight, David," Kelsey said. "All I can think is that you want to contact your cult and try to get an alibi for the three murders. Why else would you run?"

"No, I didn't run because of that," David claimed.

"Do you want to speak to us about it?" Kelsey pushed. "You can clear this all up for us right now, or you are going to jail for killing three people."

"No, no," David stammered. "Yes, I’ll talk with you. Of course, I’ll talk with you. I didn't kill anyone. That’s not why I ran."

"Then tell us why you did run," Kelsey ordered.

David fell silent for a moment and looked at his lawyer. He wrung his hands together.

"Because he wouldn’t let me get away with it," David said.

"Who wouldn't let you get away with what?" Kelsey asked.

"Our leader," he replied. "He spoke about you investigating any wrongdoing or anything illegal. I think he knows about it."

"Will you be straight with us?" Kelsey asked.

"I could see the way he looked at me," David continued. "He knows everything, and he would have given me up because it is the right thing to do, just as it is the right thing for Greg to go to jail for assault. I should have remained and faced the consequences, but I was scared."

"Why did you run?" John demanded.

"I sell pills," David said, looking at the floor. "I should have remained in the barn and told you, but he would have released me from the group, and I was scared. I thought if I got far enough away, it would all blow over. I know you have bigger fish to fry. If I had gotten away, he might have let me stay. That's all I ever want. I should have stayed and been true to myself, but I was scared. You can understand that, can't you? I was scared of losing him."

"Of losing your leader?" John asked.

"He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I would do anything to repay what he has gifted to me in this life."

"How about in the next one?" Kelsey asked.

"I am far from ready for the next life," David admitted. "I hope I can learn from him one day. I will pay my dues and go to prison just like Greg, and when I am out, perhaps he will take me back and show me the ways."

"Like mummification?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes," David replied. "Everything that will take me into the next life with all the others in the group when it is time for us to go."

"He talks about that?" Kelsey asked. "About mummifying the members of the group to guide them into the afterlife."

"No, not all of it. He talks of death, and he has mentioned mummification. We killed a sheep one time, and he spoke of mummification if it was a human, but he has never shown us how to do it."

"Do you think he has done it before to someone?" John asked.

"No, he has not. He told us he has not. When we heard of the first one murdered, he told us he admired the work, but he warned against it. He told us we must never do such a thing, that it required a specific touch, and only those trained in it should perform it."

"Did he ask you all for alibis?" John asked. "Did he force you to lie for him?"

"No, never," David reputed. "He has always been honest with us. He has never kept anything hidden."

"We can help you if you help us," John tried. "Three people are dead. If you help us catch who did it, we can talk to the District Attorney about a plea deal on the pills."

"Take the deal," the lawyer ordered.

"I would gladly take it if I knew who killed those people, but I don’t. I know none of us did it. Our leader would not allow it. He would not do it himself. He is not a killer. He lives to lead us, and he will lead us into the next life."

Kelsey wished it were not true, but she believed what he told them. She also found it hard to believe that none of the members would crack under pressure from John. Perhaps when they were interviewed again, holes might appear, but for now, it looked to Kelsey like Marcus Kane wasn’t their killer.

Then why do you want the information from everyone? It would make sense if you had someone in the cult do it for you, but you are not dumb enough to let us talk to them. You wouldn’t have the killer among you. Which means you are not connected. Unless…

"How about ex-members?" Kelsey asked. "Has anyone left the group recently or been thrown out?"

"Yes, there was one person," David said. "I don’t know the man’s name, but he butted heads with our leader more than Greg ever did. He didn't attend a meeting one day, and we never saw him again."

"You don't have a name?" Kelsey asked.

"No. We don't deal in names but in character," David told her.

"We need a sketch artist here as quickly as possible," Kelsey said. "And I want Officer Tallow brought in. I want to know by morning who the man is, and I want him brought in."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

John nudged Kelsey awake. She breathed in sharply through her nose as she came around. The couple of hours she had managed to sleep in the chair was a lot more restful than the overnight sleeps in the house in Dunwich.

"Officer Tallow is here," John told her.

Kelsey rubbed her eyes. She looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost two.

Officer Tallow shuffled into the police station, looking like he had been dragged out of bed. He was followed by Detective Waters. Officer Tallow was guided through into the office where John had been working, and Kelsey had slept. Kelsey stretched her back. The sleep was more comfortable than the previous two nights, but it still wasn't entirely comfortable.

"Any hits on the face?" Kelsey asked.

"It’s being run through all the software we have, but no matches yet."

Kelsey nodded and picked up the original sketch that David Harper had given them. She showed it to Officer Tallow.

"Do you know this man?" Kelsey asked.

Officer Tallow frowned and looked at the drawing.

"You’ve been feeding him information, so give us some in return," Kelsey said. "I saw it in your eyes back at his farm. You are an officer of the law first and foremost. He was a member of the group, wasn’t he?"

Officer Tallow nodded. "Yeah, I remember him. He was part of the group when I joined, but our leader threw him out."

"Do you know why?" Kelsey asked.

"I don’t, but I remember they had some big arguments. I’m a cop, so of course, I pay attention. I think he wanted to be the leader, but our leader wouldn’t allow that. We would never allow it. Our leader knows how to get us where we are going."

Kelsey wanted to ask where that was, but there were more important questions.

"He might be our killer," Kelsey said. "If you want to be responsible for his capture, then give us something."

"I don't know his name or where he lives—no, maybe I do," Officer Tallow said. "He only stuck out because he argued with our leader so much. I remember leaving after a meeting, and he drove out before me."

"What car was he driving?" Kelsey asked.

"I’m pretty sure it was a Toyota Corolla. He took the highway in the same direction, and he turned off into Dunwich. Maybe he lives there. I have contacts there. I’ll talk to them. I can take his picture door to door, and we can find him."

"We don't want to spook him," Kelsey said. "We’ve been in Dunwich the last few days, and I hope he hasn’t vacated. Talk to your contacts in Dunwich first and see what you can find. Detective Waters, I want you with Officer Tallow. Deputy Gallant and I will follow behind. If he’s still there, I want to be there, too."

***

John and Kelsey sat at the dining table of Detective Waters’s sister's house as the sun began to rise. Kelsey had not slept. Even if she had wanted to, she wouldn't have tried. She sat up with John, drinking coffee and waiting for word from Officer Tallow.

"I want to be done with this so I can get back home to Erica" Kelsey said. "I called her last night before I tried to sleep, but hearing her voice didn't help. She won't come out and say it, but she’s worried about everything. She won't relax until she knows she’s safe. She can't live her life when she has to look over her shoulder constantly. I need to be with her."

"I want that, too," John said. "We’ll go back to her together and sort the whole mess out. So, do we have our guy?"

"He’s someone we want to talk to," Kelsey said. "He had disagreements with the group, and he wanted to be the leader. Marcus Kane forced him out, and he was bitter about it. So, he’s killing group members under Marcus’s nose?"

"Marcus told us he was impressed with the work," Kelsey remembered. "I believed him. If Marcus was impressed with the work of the killer, and the killer is the ex-member, then—"

"He is involved," John said. "He’s feeding the information to his ex-member, and the ex-member is killing them."

"Which would confirm why the current members are happy to share any information and why Marcus was not worried about them doing so."

"We need to get over there," John said. "We need to bring him in. I knew he was a part of this."

Someone knocked at the door.

Kelsey flew from the kitchen table to the front door and opened it to find Detective Waters and Officer Tallow.

"His name is Thomas Crenshaw," Officer Tallow said. "He lives here in town. I want to go with you to pick him up."

Kelsey looked the young officer in the eyes. She could sense his excitement about being part of the investigation and his sense of justice, which overwhelmed his need to please his leader, especially when the case involved an ex-member.

"Let’s go," Kelsey said.

They left the house. Detective Waters and Officer Tallow got into a vehicle together, and John and Kelsey got into John’s truck. They followed the officer as he left Detective Waters’s sister’s house.

"We still need to pay Marcus Kane a visit, and Officer Tallow might not like that," John said.

"We pick up Thomas Crenshaw, and then we pick up Marcus Kane," Kelsey said. "Officer Tallow wants to go after Crenshaw, but I’m not as sure with Marcus."

"What if we bring both of them in and neither of them want to talk?" John asked. "I’m sure Marcus is involved, but we’ve spoken to him multiple times, and we have nothing on him except for a pretty good hunch."

"We hope Crenshaw talks. He’s an ex-member, but maybe he’s been out of the group for long enough not to be influenced by Marcus. We get him talking and hope he gives us Marcus Kane. We only have to hope first that we get something on Thomas Crenshaw. Marcus Kane is careful; we know that. He admires the kills but distances himself from them. The buck must stop somewhere."

"And hopefully, it’s here," John said as they pulled to a stop before a modest single-level house.

Officer Tallow and Detective Waters got out of their car first, and Kelsey and John quickly followed.

We can’t give him time. If he’s seen us coming, he’ll get out of there as quickly as possible.

“Colin! Officer Tallow. Take the rear!" Kelsey ordered.

Kelsey was still unsure if they could fully trust Officer Tallow with the cult involved, so she paired him with John. It would be easier for him to take the officer down than her.

"Detective Waters, you’re with me," Kelsey asserted. "Let’s go!"

John led the officer around the back while Kelsey ran to the front door. Glancing toward the front window for any signs of movement, she pounded her fist on the door.

"Do we know anything else about him?" Kelsey asked Detective Waters.

"Not much other than he lives here," the detective said.

She pounded again. "Thomas Crenshaw!"

"What do you make of Officer Tallow?" Kelsey asked. "Does he put the cult first?"

"I don't know," Detective Waters admitted. "He wanted to go after Crenshaw, and he seems angry at him. He doesn’t want to protect him; I’m sure of that."

Kelsey nodded. "Break it down. I’ll deal with any repercussions if we are wrong about this."

Detective Waters nodded. He took a step back and aimed a boot at the door just below the lock. He kicked it again, then a third time before the lock cracked. He came closer to the door and barged into it with his shoulder, knocking the door open.

Kelsey drew her gun and pushed past the detective, swinging to the left and then the right. Detective Waters followed her in, drawing his gun. Kelsey gestured with two fingers, pointing to the left for him to go in that direction while she went right. She walked quickly into the living room, spinning on the spot to cover all areas before pushing through into the kitchen.

She unlocked the door with one hand while pointing the gun between the two doorways. John and Officer Tallow flooded in with guns drawn. Kelsey sent John in the direction of Detective Waters, who was searching the larger half of the house, taking longer to get to the kitchen. Then, she gestured for Officer Tallow to go back the way she came. Kelsey looked out the window into the backyard. There was a large fence at the end, and he could have escaped that way if he saw them coming, but he would have had to have been quick, and there was no sign of hasty exit. The backdoor was locked, and she didn't think he would take the time to lock it behind him if he was on the run.

A plate and mug sat by the sink. She went to them. The mug contained a small amount of dark brown liquid, and the plate contained a few toast crumbs. Perhaps the dishes were from the previous night, but it was more likely they were from that morning.

You were here, and now, you've gone. How much did we miss you by?

"Kelsey!" John called.

Kelsey moved with her gun still drawn toward the source of the shout. When she saw John standing in the doorway of a small study, she lowered her gun and then put it back in her holster.

"We have him," John said.

Kelsey moved past John and into the room. The first thing she spotted was a large map on the opposite wall of the immediate area, spreading out from Dunwich in a sixty or seventy-mile radius. Two dozen spots on the map were circled, and it took Kelsey less than five seconds to spot the three where the bodies were found.

"The silos," she muttered. "He marked the areas on the map he could use."

Kelsey searched the map for Marcus Kane’s farm. It was on the map, but it wasn’t circled or marked in any way. Kelsey placed a hand on the map, running her fingers over the paper.

"We need to send officers out to each of these silos," she said. "There could be bodies out there."

She sat down at the desk and looked over the documents spread over the top. There was a lot of information to go through, but one thing stood out. It looked like a manifest, but instead of being for something like a plan, it was for the Preservers of Tomorrow. There were dozens of names written down, including phone numbers, addresses, workplaces, habitual information, loved ones, next of kin, and the amount of time they had been a part of the group. She found Michael Reynolds, Kelly Mayer, and James Cooper’s names. They had all been crossed out.

The other information was harder to sift through. There were piles of information on each farm. Realtor reports, owner reports, farm history, and everything else that presented them as a good place to put a body so it wouldn’t be found for a while.

"Where are you, Thomas?" Kelsey asked.

Either they waited for him to return, which might not happen, or they went to him. They had the advantage that he didn't know they were in his house, and if they kept it that way, they might have been able to catch him. The worry was that he knew they were after him and on the run, or he had other victims being prepared.

Kelsey went back to the list of cult members, looking for a link.

You chose members of the cult you were in, but which ones?

She saw it. He targeted the newer members, the ones who would not be missed if they went missing. If the cult really didn't deal in names, as a lot of them suggested, then there was no additional connection between them. Unless they knew each other outside the group, they were essentially strangers. It was one way for Marcus Kane to keep them in line and have power over them. Members must come and go all the time—much better to kill the ones that are not firmly ingrained in the group.

What’s the plan? To slowly kill them all?

She scanned the list, looking for the most likely names.

"Anne Sullivan," Kelsey said. "She’s the newest member with James Cooper gone. We start there and work our way up the list. Detective Waters!"

The detective appeared in the doorway.

"Stay here and have a team come down. I want the door fixed up as best as possible, and you wait here for him. If he returns to his house, I want him taken down by any means necessary," Kelsey said.

The detective nodded.

She couldn’t risk leaving Officer Tallow in the lurch in case he did put the cult first.

"Officer Tallow, you’re with me!" Kelsey commanded. "Let’s hope we’re not too late and we find Anne Sullivan alive."

CHAPTER TWENTY

And then there were three. Kelsey, John, and Officer Tallow rushed to Anne Sullivan’s house, hoping she was still there.

"Your leader is involved," John told Officer Tallow. "I need to know you are with us, or I drop you off right here and have someone come and pick you up. Greg Mayer is going to jail, and David Harper is going to jail. Once we catch up with Thomas Crenshaw and Marcus Kane, they are going to jail, too. Do you want to follow them?"

"I follow the law," Officer Tallow said. "My duty is to protect and serve. I must tell you, though, that our leader is not a part of this. He would never do anything to hurt anyone."

"He’s been feeding Thomas Crenshaw information. He told us he admired Thomas’s work. All we need is to connect it all together and get one of them talking, and we have both of them," John said.

"If it is proven that Marcus Kane was a part of this, will you help to bring him in?" Kelsey asked.

"Yes, of course," Officer Tallow replied. "But I know he’s not a part of it. He’s the one who guides us through this life, and if…"

"If he is guilty," Kelsey continued, "then everything is a lie."

"He wouldn’t do that to us," Officer Tallow said.

"I’m sorry," Kelsey said. She didn’t have any sympathy for the officer, but she did understand how life-changing the news must be. From what she had seen of the group, they all followed Marcus unwaveringly. He was most of what they had in life, even Officer Tallow, who had a good job and a wife. He still clung to Marcus as his own personal deity.

"He will explain everything," Officer Tallow said. "I’m sure of it."

"We’re here," John said.

The three of them leaped out of the truck and ran for the house. A car sat in the driveway, and the lights inside the home were all off.

John got to the door first and pounded on it. He waited a second and pounded on it again. There was no answer. John quickly pushed Kelsey and Officer Tallow back and threw himself at the door. The adrenaline must have been coursing through his veins as the door exploded inward as soon as he connected with it.

In one fluid motion, he had his gun out and pointed into the house.

"Anne?" John called. "Anne Sullivan!"

The house was deathly silent.

Kelsey drew her gun and followed John in. The door had been locked, no sign of forced entry. John moved down the hallway while Kelsey ducked right into the living room. The house was neat and tidy. She moved through, only searching for a body.

"The back door is locked," John said from the kitchen. "Kelsey!"

Kelsey moved faster through to the kitchen, where John stood beside the locked door. The door was not what he looked at. Kelsey followed his gaze down to the floor, where a cup lay broken into three pieces.

"He has her," Kelsey said. "He must have come this morning."

"Because he knows we’re coming, or did he come for her anyway?" John asked.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Kelsey said. "All that matters now is finding her alive. We still have time if we know where he took her."

"Not to a silo," John said. "Not yet. He’ll kill her first and then start the mummification process. He needs a facility somewhere to do that."

"Get on the phone to Detective Waters and find out if there is a record of a facility among the documentation," Kelsey ordered.

John nodded and took his phone out of his pocket as he left the room.

"Officer Tallow?" Kelsey called.

He arrived in the kitchen a moment later.

"Call a team to come and search the house, stay here, and wait for them. I pray we are wrong about what happened here, and Anne will return to the house. If she does, you must keep her safe. Call Detective Waters and have him send officers to the other houses on the list, just to be safe. We're going for Marcus. If anyone knows where Thomas Crenshaw is, it's him."

***

Marcus Kane's words rattled around Kelsey's mind as they made their way to his farm once more. It did feel like they had visited every day, though this time, it would not be for lemonade, coffee, or cookies to bring him in. Kelsey didn't care if they had evidence or not; she was bringing him in, and she was getting him to talk. She was certain he was the one feeding Thomas the information, and that must include how to process the bodies and where to do it.

"The cult members are a good cover," Kelsey said as John drove twenty miles over the speed limit to get to the farm as quickly as possible.

"They fought," John said. "Marcus obviously kicked him out. How does it all fit together? I’m not doubting it because he did admit to admiring the work of the killer, but who initiated it?"

"I hope we get answers because we can only presume at this point, but I have a theory about that," Kelsey said.

"I hoped you would," John replied.

"We were told that Thomas wanted to be the leader, which created friction, and Marcus eventually removed him from the cult. Maybe that was a smokescreen, or maybe it happened, but what if Thomas was too extreme for Marcus? Marcus spoke about death to his followers, and he sacrificed the sheep and demonstrated how to process the body. What if Thomas wanted to take that further, to do it with people, and that got him thrown out? Marcus is influential, and he was kicked out of university for being too controversial, but he’s not an idiot, and he doesn't strike me as a risk-taker either.

"So, Thomas doesn't see a way back into the cult and decides to go it alone. Perhaps he’s still in contact with Michael Reynolds, and they talk about the process with Michael agreeing to it. He voluntarily starved himself, and when he died, Thomas mummified him. Perhaps he calls his old leader, his master, his mentor. We’ve seen how attached people are to Marcus, even when they are better off speaking against him. Somehow, Marcus becomes involved, and they begin working through the cult members with a plan to send them all off to the next life, followed by the two of them."

"So, a suicide cult of sorts, but the members don’t know about the death part," John said. "Instead of the cult leader getting them all to drink the Kool-Aid, he has his underling kill them off one by one, feigning ignorance?"

"They trust him," Kelsey replied. “He wouldn’t have to do much to keep them in line. He only needs to instruct Thomas on who to take and when. Thomas gets to do what he wants within the group, and Marcus gets to live vicariously through his minion while keeping ultimate control, and none of it can be traced back to him."

"How do we get him?" John asked. "When we catch up with Thomas Crenshaw, we have the evidence back at his home, but what about Marcus Kane?"

"We catch up with Crenshaw," Kelsey said. "We bring him in, charge him for his crimes, and do whatever it takes to get him to talk and name Marcus as an accomplice."

"Do you think he will talk?" John asked.

The truck bumped up and down on the dirt road as they approached the farm.

"We make him talk by any means necessary," Kelsey said, thinking only about getting back to her sister in Winchburgh. She knew Erica was safe with Sheriff Anderson, but each day that passed brought more worry that they would make their move on her.

The truck skidded in the packed dirt as he turned off the road and onto the farm. Multiple cars were parked out front at the farmhouse, and Kelsey spotted the car she had hidden behind when she had been chasing down David Harper, along with the vehicle he had hidden behind.

As she got out of the truck, her eyes were drawn toward the vehicles as if someone were hiding in there, ready to take a shot at her. She quickly left them behind and followed John to the door.

As had been the case on previous visits, Marcus Kane got to the door first to welcome them.

"Welcome again, Special Agent Hawk and Sheriff’s Deputy Gallant. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Where is Thomas Crenshaw?" John demanded.

"Thomas?" Marcus asked with a smile. "Now, there is someone I have not seen in a long time. We did not always see eye to eye. Why do you need to—oh, no! You don't think he is the one behind it all, do you?"

"Stop playing dumb," John said. "We know you’re the one supplying him with information. Tell us where he is, and there is still hope for you. We know you are involved, but he was the one who killed them, wasn’t he?"

"Deputy, I refute the accusation," Marcus said. “How little do you think of me? Please, will you join us so we can talk about civilized people?"

John drew his gun. "Step out of the house," he ordered.

Marcus ignored him and walked back the way he had come. John threw the door open and grimaced as he put his gun back in the holster. He was angry but wouldn’t shoot the suspect in the back. Kelsey followed after, and they moved through into the living room where five people were sitting on various chairs, sofas, and beanbags. Just as she recognized the vehicles from the previous night, she recognized the people, too. They had all been at the meeting called by Marcus.

The five nodded toward Kelsey and John in greeting.

"Please, sit," Marcus said. "Why not have some coffee and we can talk about this properly. I would love to answer any of your questions."

"We don't have time for this," John told him. "Another of your members has been taken, and we have a chance to see them before they are killed. Give us something."

Kelsey noticed that the cult members looked genuinely upset at the news. They really didn't have any involvement in the deaths. Marcus was impossible to read. He had the same calm demeanor at all times, which made it look like he was always telling the truth when it was more likely he was continually lying.

"Let me think," Marcus said as he sat in the chair that was also the tallest in the room, making him tower above the others like a king on a throne. He linked his fingers together. "I assume you have been to his home?"

"We have," John hissed.

"And you didn't find anything helpful there?" Marcus asked as if fishing for information.

"We did not." John was on the edge of doing something drastic, as so much time had been wasted.

"I know he was a little unhinged," Marcus said. "He had trouble keeping his emotions in check, so it is no wonder that he has resorted to this. I didn't want to believe it, but he is obviously targeting our members to get to me. You have the names of everyone in our group. You must protect them, Special Agent Hawk."

"We are dealing with that. I want you to stop stalling," Kelsey replied.

"Please don't accuse me of such things," Marcus pleaded. "I want to bring this man to justice before any more of us are killed. If you have been in his home, he likely won't return there. He is smart. He is also vengeful. I don't believe he will stop killing us now that he has a taste for it. I would also like to request protection, Special Agent Hawk. An Officer on the premises in case he comes here. Not Officer Tallow, of course, as he is a member, and I don't want both of you put in danger in the same place." He turned to his followers. "You are not to go out alone until this is over. Be safe at all times until Special Agent Hawk has Thomas Crenshaw in custody."

Everything is a cover.

The thought bounced around in Kelsey's mind. He used his followers as shields. She had no doubt he was the one supplying Thomas with information, and requesting an officer on his premises was also a good shield. If he was involved, it was the last thing they would believe he would ask for.

Then, another thought struck Kelsey. No, not a thought but a feeling. When they had parked, she looked at the vehicles and felt someone hiding there, some in danger. It was not someone hiding there, but something. Not a person hiding among the vehicles, but a vehicle itself.

That is also how you hide it, isn't it? How you hide him. This is where he processes the bodies under your guidance. You have him come when your followers come, so no one around will question it. If anyone was ever questioned, it would look suspicious for the same car to appear over and over, and it might be spotted. But have a handful or a dozen coming at once, and he is lost in the crowd. Make sure your family is always busy, and no one would ever think you were hiding anything.

Kelsey remembered the five followers from the previous night, but only four of the vehicles.

"He’s here," Kelsey said to John. "He’s on the farm somewhere with Ann Sullivan, and he’s about to kill her."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Kelsey ran for the back door and burst out through it, sprinting across the deck and leaping to the ground instead of taking the three stairs. She heard the door behind her as John followed. She looked toward the barn and then the silos. She had already looked inside both of them, and they were empty. He was using another building on the farm, likely one farther away.

"I don't know where he is, but he’s here somewhere," Kelsey told John. "A building somewhere that is far enough away from the main house and the barn to not be looked in. We spread out, and if we find Anne Sullivan in danger, or he attacks us, we take the shot."

Kelsey immediately flinched as a shot rang out from within the farmhouse. She and John immediately doubled back and drew their guns, pointing them toward the back door. John went there and opened the door while Kelsey pointed her gun inside. She moved her gun out of the way as John went in first, his gun pointed.

Then, the noise of a car being started out front.

They ran through the house, and Kelsey stopped in the living room as John ran on outside. Marcus Kane was slumped on the couch with blood pooling on his shoulder where he had been shot. Two followers were bent down beside him while the others were off elsewhere, getting something to help.

"He left!" Marcus shouted, still managing to sound calm. "I didn't know he was here. He tried to kill me."

John burst back into the house. "We have to go! He’s getting away."

Kelsey took a step, but something stopped her. She turned swiftly and looked into the eyes of the young woman to Marcus’s left. She was shaken by everything that had happened, but her eyes showed something akin to guilt.

"Go!" Kelsey ordered John. "Find whoever left. I need to stay with him."

John didn't try to protest and immediately left his house to get into his truck and pursue the fleeing person.

Kelsey immediately took out her handcuffs and went straight to Marcus. She slapped the cuffs on one hand, then pulled the coffee table over to him and cuffed the other end to it. The wood could be cut through with a saw to free him, but it would do for now. Marcus grimaced and gasped as his shoulder was moved.

"I know what you did," Kelsey said to the young woman. "Give me the gun, now."

The young woman immediately complied, handing the gun to Kelsey. Kelsey stuck it in her jacket pocket.

"If you try to help him or leave this place, you will go to jail for a very long time. The police are on their way, and if you stand guard over him until they get here, everything will be okay. Do you understand?"

"Don't listen to her," Marcus gasped.

The young woman nodded.

Kelsey nodded back before running for the back door again. She took out her phone and the gun she was given at the same time. She didn't want it in her pocket as she ran, and she quickly stashed it under the deck. Then, she dialed Detective Waters.

"Hey, do you—" he answered.

"Get to the Kane farm right now," Kelsey commanded as she ran. "We need an ambulance here, too. Marcus Kane has been shot, but you are to enter the house first to ensure it is safe. He is to be guarded at all times. Don't let him out of your sight."

"I’m on my way," Detective Waters said.

Kelsey had seen it in the young woman’s eyes: guilt and confusion. Marcus had ordered her to do it, and even though she didn't want to, she had followed his orders. He had ordered one of the other followers to take Thomas Crenshaw’s car; she was sure of it. It was a ploy to have John and Kelsey leave the property so Thomas could escape, and maybe Marcus, too. Thomas Crenshaw had never been in the house.

Kelsey ran past the barn and silos, looking out into the fields for the building where he had Anne Sullivan. She glanced back quickly, wondering if Marcus had given out any further orders. She had to trust that she had done enough in there to stop him from going anywhere and that Detective Waters would get there soon.

She spotted them. Two options. Two old, wooden buildings, both looking like they had windows blackened out. She didn't know which one to go for first, but the farm was flat enough that she would see someone leave one of the buildings, even if they went out through the back and tried to make a run for it.

Kelsey ran to a point between them, hoping to spot something that would tell her which to go to first. She didn't see anything, but she did hear something. There was a crack and then a whizz of air as a bullet flew past her head. Another crack sent Kelsey ducking to the side, and the bullet ripped through the fabric on her shoulder. She hit the ground and rolled, coming up running again.

The shots came from the building on the right, and it should have sent her retreating or dashing for the building on the left for cover, but Kelsey ran straight for the building where the shots came from. She pointed her gun but purposely aimed to miss, loosing off three shots in the hope it would be enough to have him duck and not take a shot.

Kelsey counted to three as no return fire came, and then she changed direction slightly, looping around toward the small building. Two more shots were fired where he had been a moment before.

All she could think about was her sister. It felt as if she were not Anne Sullivan but Erica inside the building.

Kelsey changed direction again and ran straight for the building. Another shot was fired, but it whistled past her once more. Kelsey slammed her back into the wooden wall, then immediately dropped to the ground as two shots came splintering through the wood. She stilled her breath, breathing in the dry earth by her nose. She listened for people inside.

There were footsteps. Kelsey could almost hear him thinking. He was trying to determine whether he had hit her or not, whether he should go outside to check, and whether there was backup on the way.

Kelsey crawled slowly across the dirt, listening for a door being opened. Her shoulder throbbed where she had been hit, but it was not numb, suggesting that the bullet had only grazed her. She stopped when she got to the end of the building, taking long breaths.

There were no footsteps inside anymore. The previous ones had belonged to Thomas Crenshaw, she was sure of that. No other sounds came from the building. If Anne was in there, she didn't make a peep.

It felt as if they were in a snow globe, frozen in time, and nothing would happen until one of them shook it all up. Kelsey could wait. Detective Waters would soon arrive, and they could surround the cabin. Perhaps he would make a run for it now, and she could shoot him in the back. Or, as she waited, he was killing Anne Sullivan.

Kelsey didn’t have time to think through the options, but she knew what she had to do. As quietly as possible, she got to her feet, moving around the corner of the wooden building until she faced the door. She didn't know if it was locked or barricaded. If there was no sound from inside, perhaps she was already dead. She had to go in.

Kelsey took one step back and ran at the door, slamming her shoulder into it. Pain burst through her as the wood gave easily, and she felt a piece of wood at her side. She went down with her momentum and came back up with her gun pointed at Thomas. He stood over a metal table with a knife near the woman’s neck.

"Drop you—" he started.

She saw what she had to do and fired three shots at his chest before he could bring the knife down. He spun a little to the left, then the right, and was finally thrown backward into the wall, slumping down it and dropping the knife.

Kelsey ran to the table, looking down at the woman. She had duct tape over her mouth and fabric wrapped around her forehead to pin her head to the table. She was unclothed, with the same fabric binding her wrists, elbows, midriff, knees, and ankles to the table. The woman blinked rapidly, tears filling her eyes.

Kelsey quickly grabbed the knife from the floor and cut the fabric to release the woman. She carefully took hold of the duct tape and removed it from her mouth, then took off her jacket and covered her as best she could.

"Thank you," Anne said in a cold whisper. "Thank you." She burst into tears.

Kelsey took the woman in her arms and stood in the middle of the wooden bench as Anne Sullivan wept. Four jars, each with a different animal or human head, sat under the table. Various scalpels, knives, and saws were placed on a metal tray to the side. Vials and pails held different liquids. A large sink was connected to a water tank above and drained into the ground. Symbols adorned the walls, more and more as Kelsey studied them—Egyptian hieroglyphics, but different from the ones he had seen in school or in movies.

"You’re safe now," Kelsey said. "You’re safe."

She would look for other victims after she had made sure Anne was fine. She held her tight for a minute more before she guided her toward the exit, leaving Thomas behind. He was in the next life now, but he wasn’t guided there, and he wouldn’t have the ritual burial his victims had in death. That was the ultimate punishment, though he wasn’t alive to know it.

Sirens blared as they left the building. It was finally over.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Kelsey handed Anne Sullivan off to a female officer as they approached the farmhouse.

"You’ll be safe with her," Kelsey told her. She addressed the officer. "Have her checked over, and then get her whatever she needs, okay?"

The female officer nodded and took Anne by the arm, guiding her toward one of the ambulances.

Kelsey spotted Detective Waters in the crowd, with more emergency vehicles approaching as they walked toward each other.

"Do you have him?" Kelsey asked.

"Marcus Kane is cuffed in one of the ambulances, and they are treating his wound, but they’ll need to get him to a hospital soon. I’ll go with him. How about…?"

"Dead," Kelsey confirmed. "We’ll need to send a team up there. I shot him as he was about to cut her throat. I don't know if there was anything else I could do."

"You did what you had to," Detective Waters said. "It’s over, thanks to you. We’re glad you and Deputy Gallant helped out on this one."

"John?" Kelsey said quickly.

"He’s on his way back. He caught up with the vehicle, and one of Marcus’s followers was driving it. From what I can gather, he had them flee in the car."

"They didn't know about any of this," Kelsey told him. "He used them as a cover, but when we got too close, he involved them. He had one of his followers shoot him and another flee in Thomas Crenshaw’s car to lead us away. I don't think Marcus ever planned to run. He was too confident in his abilities and the willingness of his followers to do his bidding. Maybe he would have killed Thomas himself and tried to deny involvement, but it’s all right here. There’s no denying it now. With what we found at Thomas’s house and the building across the field, we know they were in this together."

"I should go and be with him to be sure he isn’t talking to anyone he shouldn’t. We’ve seen what he can do."

"Thank you, Detective Waters."

"Will you join us all for a beer later? This is definitely something to celebrate," Detective Waters said.

"Another time," Kelsey told him. "I have something to get back to in Winchburgh that needs my attention."

"All right, another time," he said.

Kelsey watched him go and then took charge again. She directed the team up to the building where Thomas Crenshaw lay dead, and a team was ordered to search the second building, which Kelsey had a hunch was filled with salt to dry the bodies. She was quickly proven right on that hunch and found some happiness when she was told there were no bodies in there. The silos marked on his map still had to be searched, and the farm would need a thorough going over, but Kelsey felt it was done. He had killed three people, and Anne was to be the start of the new batch. There would be no more death.

Kelsey found the follower who had shot Marcus and had an officer take her down to the station. The woman shouldn’t be punished for what she had done unless they found she was more involved than suspected. She would talk to Detective Waters about that.

John arrived back at the farm soon after, and as soon as Kelsey spotted him, she ran into his arms, pushing her head against his chest and shoulder. He rubbed her back with one hand and held her head with the other. When they came apart, he looked concerned.

"Your shoulder," he said.

"A bullet grazed me," she said. "It’s nothing, really. What happened on the highway?"

"Not much of anything. I caught up with the car and pulled them over, and he complied immediately. He feigned innocence and claimed Marcus had him running an errand. I called a patrol car to come and take him in. They can deal with him now. Is he really dead?"

"Yes," Kelsey confirmed. "I got there just in time. He was about to cut her throat. I had to take him down."

"I knew as soon as I left that he was still there, but I had to chase the car down just to be sure," John said. "You stayed on the farm, and you are rarely wrong. I almost turned around to go after him with you. I was worried about you."

"Yeah, it got pretty sketchy out there," Kelsey said. "Maybe I should have waited for backup, but I had to go in."

"You saved her because you did," John affirmed. "You put an end to all of this."

"I love you," Kelsey told him.

"I love you, too," he said. "Are you sure you’re feeling okay?"

"I’m fine," Kelsey said. "I’m tired, and I’ll need to clean this wound at some point, but I’m done here. All I want now is to get back to Erica and make sure she is all right. This thing with the people who took her will come to an end at some point, and I want to be with her in case they make a last-ditch attempt to get to her. I know she’s with Sheriff Anderson, but he shouldn’t be put in harm's way."

"Then let’s leave now," John said. "We can swing by the office and house in Dunwich, and then get the heck out of Dodge."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Kelsey said.

***

Kelsey smiled as they left the small town of Dunwich and headed back toward their own small town. It was both a happy and nervous smile. She was glad to be heading back to her sister but nervous as they finally headed back to Winchburgh. She had only just reached Anne Sullivan in time to save her, and she had the haunting feeling that the same would be true of her sister.

She couldn’t help but feel her sister was a sitting duck with her away. She looked at her watch for something to do. She would be with Erica again within the hour, and everything would be right with the world again.

John patted her leg, then left his hand there. She placed her hand over his and gripped it tight.

"Thank you for being here with me," Kelsey said.

"There’s nowhere on the planet I would rather be," he said.

Kelsey looked out the window at the golden fields passing by. The mummification case was still in the forefront of her mind as almost every farm they passed had a silo on it, and a part of her wanted to stop and take a look inside. She wondered about the mummification process and the deep belief that Marcus and Thomas, along with others, held in it. It was perhaps like any other religion that held a belief in what happened to them after death. There was some comfort in having a belief like that.

Kelsey was unsure what would happen to her after death. If her heart was weighed by Anubis, how heavy would it be? She had killed people, but only to save others. Did that tip the scales in any one direction? All she knew was that if she were to do it all again, she would take those lives to protect the world.

"Sometimes, I think about giving all of this up and doing something like running a farm," Kelsey said. "Does that sound stupid? We could get a plot of land together and grow things. Maybe have some chickens. It wouldn’t be as dangerous."

She turned to look at John when it became obvious he wasn’t listening.

"Hey, have you heard a word I’ve said?" she asked with a smile.

"What’s this guy’s problem?" John asked.

Kelsey turned to see a grey truck right behind them. "He’s really riding our tail. You should slow down to let him pass."

"I did slow down, but he got even closer," John said. "Maybe I should pull over, then pull him over?"

Kelsey’s heart leapt into her throat and thumped furiously.

"He’s finally passing," John said.

"Don't let him get alongside you!" Kelsey shouted.

It was too late. The grey truck pulled out and hit the accelerator. It turned sharply to the right and slammed into the back of John’s truck. Kelsey was thrown to the side, and her head hit the window. Then, there was a screech as the truck fishtailed from side to side, and the centrifugal force took over, pressing Kelsey to the window as the truck swerved onto the road.

There was a split second when everything seemed to stop and grow silent. Followed by a cracking sound, and the world spun around the truck.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Kelsey gasped as her body was thrown around the inside of the cab, the seatbelt only able to do so much. She tried to grunt, but each knock took the wind from her until it felt like she was suffocating. She saw the road out of the front window and then grass as they rolled six, seven, eight times.

The truck suddenly stopped, throwing her in the opposite direction, her head hitting the window again. Her world went grey, but she fought against it. She knew who was in the grey truck. Not personally, but they had sent them—the organization who had gone after her sister twenty years ago.

Kelsey sucked in a lungful of air with a large gasp as if surfacing from deep water. Her head swam as she tried to form a coherent thought.

John!

She scrambled to undo her seatbelt and dropped to the ceiling of the cab when she did. The truck had landed upside down. She looked around, not seeing him for a second as her mind caught up with her. He was still strapped in, hanging down toward the ceiling, blood coming from his head.

"John!" Kelsey screamed.

She reached out and touched his chest, holding her palm there. His breathing was still strong. She let out another gasp and took short, sharp breaths. She patted her belt to find the gun still there. Her phone was not in her pocket, but she found it on the ceiling. It took a few seconds to find her badge, and she stuffed that in her pocket.

"I have to go." Kelsey felt the tears wet her cheeks. "They’re going after her, John. I have to get back to protect Erica."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek where there was no blood. She reached for the door handle and pulled it, but the door only opened a crack. She swiveled on the ceiling and kicked the door with both feet three times before it gave.

The hot air hit her, but it felt fresh, and she noticed the metallic scent within the cab. She swiveled again and crawled out of the truck. Looking down the road, she saw the grey truck in the far distance. Kelsey pushed herself to her feet, almost falling back over.

"Don't try to move," a woman said. "An ambulance is on the way. We saw the whole thing."

Kelsey didn't reply. After coming off the road at an angle, she looked toward the road, fifty yards away. Six cars had parked, and people were heading toward them.

Kelsey took out her badge—it was the only thing that gave her authority in the situation. She showed it to the woman.

"Stay with him until they get here. Please," Kelsey begged.

"You shouldn’t try to move," the woman replied.

"I have to go," Kelsey muttered. She stumbled toward the road and the people coming toward her. She held out her badge in front of her, her vision a little blurred. "My name is Special Agent Hawk from the FBI. I need a vehicle. The truck that hit us. I have to go after it."

Six or seven people looked at her blankly.

"This is life or death," she urged. "I need to get to Winchburgh."

"I can take you."

Kelsey looked at the young Asian man and nodded. She didn't care that he only looked around eighteen.

"Take me," she said.

A siren sounded in the distance. She wanted to be with John and make sure he lived, but they were going to kill Erica.

The young man opened the door of his red sports car, and Kelsey got in. She fumbled twice for the seatbelt before finding it and clipping it in. He got in the other side and started the engine.

"Eddie," he said.

"Just drive!" she ordered. "Get me to Winchburgh!"

Eddie did as he was told and drove the shoulder for a couple of hundred yards. He upped the speed before he merged onto the highway. Kelsey took out her phone and reached for Sheriff Anderson’s number. It took her a little longer than usual. She hit the number to dial it and held the phone to her ear as it rang and went to the snoring service. She hung up and dialed again.

"We need to go faster!" Kelsey demanded. "You have special privileges or whatever you need. If you get a ticket, the FBI will pay for it. As fast as you can, Eddie."

"All right," he said with a grin, quickly picking up speed.

They dodged in and out of cars, the scene before Kelsey becoming a blur as the phone continued to ring. Then, they went to the answering service again.

"Sheriff, I don't know where you are right now, but get Erica and get out of there. They're coming."

The world unbarred a little, and Kelsey held onto the handle on the door when she realized how fast they were going.

"Good, Eddie," she gasped, frightened by the speed. "I appreciate you and this. I have to save her."

Kelsey tried her sister’s number and got the exact same thing—it rang for a while and then went to the answering service.

"Come on!" Kelsey screamed.

The car screeched and lurched as it slowed a little and hit the exit ramp into Winchburgh. Kelsey gripped the handle tighter as they took the long curve off the highway.

"If I save her, it’s because of you, Eddie," Kelsey said. "You’ll be the hero, Eddie!"

"Where to in town?" Eddie asked.

"Down Main Street and then take Seventh," she instructed.

They had not been gone from Winchburgh for long, but as she found herself back in town, it felt like an eternity. She reached her hand up to her head, only thinking about her own injuries for the first time. When she took her fingers away, they had blood on them. She pulled down the sun visor to look in the small mirror.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her left eye bruised with a cut sitting on her forehead above it. A few scrapes adorned her cheeks. Her head still swam after being knocked against the window more than a few times. She tried to calm her breathing, but it was impossible.

"The next left," Kelsey ordered. "Then a right."

Eddie had slowed in town but still drove over the speed limit. He made the sharp turn, tossing them both to the side. Kelsey spotted the grey truck parked right outside the Sheriff’s house.

"Stop here!" she called, opening the door. "And get the heck out of here as quick as you can!"

She leaped out, and the wheels spun as Eddie slammed the car into reverse and went back the way they had come. She pulled her gun and aimed it toward the truck. The driver’s door suddenly opened, and all Kelsey could think about was John lying unconscious in the truck and her sister inside the house, hiding from being taken again.

Kelsey unloaded four bullets into the interior of the door as she ran toward it, stopping the driver from getting out and shattering the window. She swung her gun as she got to the truck and hit the driver in the temple. He grunted and moved to go after her. She moved back quickly, grabbed the door, and slammed it into his head. Then, she did it again and again until he dropped from the truck to the sidewalk below.

Kelsey ran for the door. It had been knocked almost off its hinges by whoever had entered. She ran in, and she was immediately back at the farm being shot at. She stopped in her tracks, and the bullet slammed into the wall by her. She fell into a roll and went over her shoulder with a shot of pain pulsing through her, then came back up and shot the man in the chest three times, just like she had done with Thomas Crenshaw.

Kelsey pulled out the clip and dropped it to the ground, grabbing the spare from her belt and slamming it into her gun.

"Erica!" Kelsey called. "Sheriff!"

"Sheriff’s not here," came the reply.

Kelsey swiveled to her right and pointed the gun as the two figures emerged. One was her sister, and the other was a man with a gun to her head.

"Please, please, please," Kelsey said. "Let’s talk about this."

"Drop your gun," the man ordered.

"Don’t do it," Erica begged.

"Drop it!" the man shouted.

"Please, Kelsey," Erica begged. "I can't go back with them. I’d rather die."

"Drop your weapon, and your sister don’t get hurt," the man told Kelsey.

The tears ran down Kelsey’s cheeks. The fatigue caught up with her body, and she felt like she had been in a car crash. She looked into her sister’s eyes and wanted to do what she said, but she couldn’t lose her like that.

"I can find you again," Kelsey said. They had the informant, so it would be different this time.

"Please," Erica begged. "Shoot him. I don’t care if I die like this. Then you and John can have a life."

"That’s enough!" the man shouted. "Tick-tock, special agent. You brought this on yourself. Do you want her to die?"

"No," Kelsey admitted. She looked Erica in the eyes. "I promise I will burn everything to the ground to find you again." Then she let the gun spin on her finger and raised her hands.

"You will burn everything to the ground, won't you?" the man asked. "You were supposed to die on the highway, but you keep coming back. She’ll always blame you for making this choice." The man took the gun from Erica’s head and pointed it at Kelsey.

The gunshot cracked, and the bullet hit.

The man’s eyes widened as a red circle appeared on the front of his head where the bullet had passed through. He stood there, shocked for a second, as did Erica before she ran from his grasp to Kelsey, and the man fell to the ground.

Kelsey opened her arms and was thrown back against the wall as her sister embraced her.

"I don't understand," Erica said.

"He got here just in time," Kelsey said. "I hoped you were a good shot."

Erica turned around in Kelsey’s arms to see Sheriff Anderson standing at the back of the room.

"And I hoped you could distract him enough for me to take the shot," the sheriff said.

"I thought you were…" Erica said.

"I saw Sheriff Anderson coming," Kelsey told her. "I knew he would take a shot at me after everything I’ve done to them. I wasn’t about to let them take you again, Erica."

"I love you," Erica said.

"I love you, too," Kelsey said.

"Where’s John?" Sheriff Anderson asked.

"We need to go," Kelsey said. "He’ll be on his way to the hospital. He was breathing, but he was out cold. He wouldn’t—"

"He’s tough," Sheriff Anderson said. "I don’t know where to start with this mess, but you need to get to the hospital, too, Hawk. I’m calling a patrol car, then I’ll deal with this mess, and then I’ll find you all."

"Thank you," Kelsey said.

She suddenly lost her balance, and her legs buckled. Erica grabbed her sister and supported her.

"I've got you," Erica said.

"I know you do," Kelsey replied.

EPILOGUE

One Week Later

Kelsey held the phone to her ear and tried not to laugh as she spoke to Lucas Garcia, her contact at the FBI.

"Wait, so tell me again who Eddie Ping is?" Lucas asked her.

"He drove me back to Winchburgh when they went after Erica," Kelsey told him. "Why is he calling you?"

"He says you can put a good word in for him, and if the FBI needs any drivers, he’s the man for the job. You do know he’s only eighteen?"

"I would happily vouch for him after what he did for me," Kelsey said. "So, are there any driver jobs? The FBI is always looking for good getaway drivers, right?"

"Yeah, maybe I’ll pass this one up the chain of command to my boss."

Kelsey laughed. "Who knows. Maybe you take a chance on him and help him get into the academy, and he proves himself. All I know is that my sister might be dead or gone if it wasn’t for him. He sure can drive."

"I'm glad you are all okay," Lucas admitted. "They tried a hit on Philip Guppy at the same time they went after you and John and your sister, unsuccessfully, thankfully. We have three dead and two alive on this end and two dead and one alive on your end. At least one of them is talking, and once the other two realize that, they'll talk, too."

"So, it’s really happening?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, it is," Lucas said. "I couldn’t be happier for you, Hawk. You’ve waited a long time for this. With what Philip Guppy has given us and what the hired muscle have told us so far, the FBI is finally ready to make a move. Several people have already been brought in, and concurrent raids will happen this afternoon. Keep a low profile until I call you again."

"I will," Kelsey said, "but I don't think they'll come after us again. They made a last attempt to silence anyone who could hurt them or who had hurt them, and they failed. This is the start of the end for them."

"Yeah, it is," Lucas agreed. "I will call you again soon. The empire will crumble, Hawk. Hey, maybe I’ll come out to North Dakota and see what you have out there. If you don't want to go back to the big city."

"You should come out," Kelsey said. "I do have a lot out here. I have a good life."

"Well, it’s time to start living it," Lucas said.

"Thank you, Lucas. I’ll talk to you soon."

Kelsey hung up the phone and looked around John’s living room. She took a deep breath and smiled, tears coming to her eyes. She finally had everything she had ever wanted in life, even if she had not known she wanted it when she moved to Winchburgh.

She put the phone back in her pocket and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. Then, she walked through the living room and kitchen to the backyard, where she joined everyone.

John looked at her as soon as she exited and leaned forward with a groan, forgetting about his leg, which was in plaster and elevated on a stool.

"Is it happening?" he asked.

"The FBI is moving now," Kelsey said. "They’re raiding the organization all over the country."

"Does that mean?" Erica asked, getting to her feet.

"Yes," Kelsey said, beaming. "They can't hurt you anymore. After today, there won't be an organization anymore. You’re safe, and you can live your life without ever being in fear again."

Erica ran to her sister and hugged her. Kelsey still felt a little soreness in her side from the car accident, but not enough to stop her from hugging her sister. She wrapped her arms around Erica, holding her tight.

There was a pat on her back.

"That’s wonderful news," Sheriff Anderson said. "Really wonderful news, Hawk."

"Hey!" John complained. "I can’t get up without help; you can't leave me out of this. I want to celebrate, too."

Kelsey laughed and struggled out of Erica's grasp so she could go to John. Erica let go of her and danced around in the backyard, spinning across the grass with her hands in the air. Kelsey bent down beside John and kissed him on the cheek, wrapping her arms around him.

He’d suffered a broken leg and concussion in the crash, and the other smaller cuts and bruises had mostly healed over the past week. It would be a few months until he had the cast off, but he was alive and well.

"I love you," John said.

"I love you, too," Kelsey replied.

"Listen," John started. "I know this is maybe not the most romantic place, and I’m supposed to get down on one knee, but I can hardly do that right now."

Kelsey jerked back to see John holding a ring box. She brought her hands to her mouth and gasped.

"Yes!" she said immediately.

"You don't want to see what's in the box first?” John asked, smiling.

"I don't care what's in the box. All I care about is you. Yes, of course, I will marry you. I want nothing more in the world."

"You’re getting married?" Erica shouted from the other end of the yard, running back to them.

Kelsey nodded, opening the ring box and slipping the ring quickly onto her finger so there could be no going back. She leaned down and kissed John again before standing up to show her sister the ring.

"This is amazing!" Erica gasped. She took Kelsey’s hands in hers and began to dance around with her.

Sheriff Anderson went to John and shook his hand, beaming like a proud father. Over the years, he had become a father figure to John and Kelsey.

Kelsey danced around with her sister, her only biological family left, but not her only family. She had John and Sheriff Anderson and a home in Winchburgh. Maybe someday, she and John would have a small farm of their own with Erica, but that didn't matter for now.

All that mattered was the love they shared. She would do exactly what Lucas had suggested and start living her life.

NOW AVAILABLE!

NOW RUN

(A Brynn Justice FBI Suspense Thriller—Book One)

“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

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When a serial killer leaves an eerie trail echoing Greek mythology, brilliant FBI Agent Brynn Justice must race to halt a delusional psychopath—and save the next victim before it's too late…

In a chilling series of crimes tied to ancient lore, FBI Agent Brynn Justice chases a modern-day Hades who ensnares young women in his deadly underworld. Brynn's resolve is tested as she descends into literal and metaphorical darkness to stop a killer with a god complex from completing his ghastly pantheon.

NOW RUN is BOOK #1 in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, whose bestseller NOT ME (a free download) has received over 3,00 five star ratings and reviews.

The BRYNN JUSTICE mystery series is a heart-racing cat-and-mouse narrative brimming with shocking twists and unexpected turns. This series breathes new life into the mystery genre with its unique lead character, guaranteed to capture your heart and compel you to read well past bedtime. Fans of Lisa Regan, Karin Slaughter, and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.

Future books in the series are also available!

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—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“Kate did an amazing job on this book and I was hooked from the first chapter!”

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“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.”

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“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

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“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!”

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“Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done.”

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“WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well.”

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“Page turner for sure. Great characters and relationships. I got into the middle of this story and couldn’t put it down. Looking forward to more from Kate Bold.”

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“Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book.”

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—Reader review for The Killing Game

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NOW RUN

(A Brynn Justice FBI Suspense Thriller—Book One)

Kate Bold

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

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

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

BOOKS BY KATE BOLD

MAGGIE FLIGHT SUSPENSE THRILLER

FINAL KILL (Book #1)

FINAL CHANCE (Book #2)

FINAL MISTAKE (Book #3)

FINAL LIE (Book #4)

FINAL BREATH (Book #5)

FINAL WHISPER (Book #6)

FINAL HOUR (Book #7)

ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER

FIND ME (Book #1)

FIND HER (Book #2)

FIND HELP (Book #3)

FIND HOME (Book #4)

FIND HIM (Book #5)

FIND YOU (Book #6)

FIND HOPE (Book #7)

BARREN PINES

THE UNSEEN NEIGHBOR (Book #1)

THE UNSEEN WIFE (Book #2)

THE UNSEEN KILLER (Book #3)

THE UNSEEN WOMAN (Book #4)

THE UNSEEN PAST (Book #5)

NINA VEIL SUSPENSE THRILLER

AWAY FROM HERE (Book #1)

AWAY FROM HIM (Book #2)

AWAY FROM HOPE (Book #3)

AWAY FROM HOME (Book #4)

AWAY FROM HUMANITY (Book #5)

KELSEY HAWK MYSTERY

FIND ME (Book #1)

FIND HER (Book #2)

FIND HELP (Book #3)

FIND HOME (Book #4)

FIND HIM (Book #5)

FIND YOU (Book #6)

FIND HOPE (Book #7)

FIND NO ONE (Book #8)

FIND OUT (Book #9)

FIND DEATH (Book #10)

DEAD COLD (Book #11)

DEAD QUIET (Book #12)

ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)

THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)

THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)

THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)

THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)

THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)

ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER

LET ME GO (Book #1)

LET ME OUT (Book #2)

LET ME LIVE (Book #3)

LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)

LET ME FORGET (Book #5)

LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)

CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT ME (Book #1)

NOT NOW (Book #2)

NOT WELL (Book #3)

NOT HER (Book #4)

NOT NORMAL (Book #5)

NOT AGAIN (Book #6)

NOT SAFE (Book #7)

NOT TODAY (Book #8)

HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)

NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)

NOWHERE LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOWHERE GIRL (Book #5)

NOWHERE TO HIDE (Book #6)

NOWHERE CERTAIN (Book #7)

NOWHERE PURE (Book #8)

NOWHERE SOUND (Book #9)

NOWHERE SANE (Book #10)

NOWHERE TRUE (Book #11)

KAYLIE BROOKS PYSCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

LAST BREATH (Book #1)

LAST CHANCE (Book #2)

LAST WISH (Book #3)

LAST SHOT (Book #4)

LAST MISTAKE (Book #5)

EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IN HIS BLOOD (Book #1)

IN HIS SIGHTS (Book #2)

IN HIS REACH (Book #3)

IN HIS MIND (Book #4)

IN HIS WAY (Book #5)

IN HIS THOUGHTS (Book #6)

IN HIS DREAMS (Book #7)

DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

OUT OF REACH (Book #1)

OUT OF TOUCH (Book #2)

OUT OF TIME (Book #3)

OUT OF BOUNDS (Book #4)

OUT OF LUCK (Book #5)

LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SOMETHING KNOCKING (Book #1)

SOMETHING CALLING (Book #2)

SOMETHING WRONG (Book 3)

SOMETHING DARK (Book #4)

SOMETHING TO HIDE (Book #5)