Gideon frowned, torn. He didn’t want to leave Daisy unprotected. “Daisy still needs protection. She won’t be safe until the man who’s already murdered seven women is caught. But the Sokolovs will pick up guard duty for now, I’m sure.” Plus her father was coming to town. Gideon was certain that Dawson wouldn’t let Daisy out of his sight. “I’ll be back in the office first thing tomorrow. I’ll need to go to Portland ASAP. Eileen is still our best lead, and Portland was her last known address.”
“I’ll ask my clerk to book your flight. Agent Schumacher will go with you. Tomorrow afternoon?”
He’d worked with Joslyn Schumacher on cases in the past. She was a solid agent. “Thank you. Tomorrow will be fine.”
“This is interstate now, so the FBI will lead the investigation. But you’ll be teaming up with Detectives Rhee and Sokolov.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be in your office first thing in the morning. I’ll be back in the city by this evening, so I can come in earlier if you need—” He swallowed a surprised grunt as the car hit ice on the road and fishtailed.
“Agent Reynolds?” Molina asked sharply. “Gideon?”
He got the car back under control, but his pulse was pounding in his head. “Sorry. It’s icy here. I thought my car could handle it without chains, but I should have put them on.” They were actually lucky the road was still as passable as it was this far into the mountains. Hell, he was lucky to have a signal at all. “I need both hands for this.”
“Then go, but call me when you finish with Mr. Danton.”
“Will do.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone with a sigh. “Dammit.”
“You have to go back?” Daisy asked.
“By tomorrow. They’ve found more victims.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “I figured they would.”
“I’ll make sure you’re protected.”
She smoothed her palm over his knee. “I figured you would.”
He covered her hand with his. Her skin was cold. “We’ll find him.”
She only nodded. “How many more, Gideon?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Three more, in addition to the three we knew about this morning from the open investigation. Adding Trish and Eileen makes eight altogether.”
She shuddered out a horrified breath. “Where were they found?”
“Why?”
“Because I found three more while you were driving.”
“Through newspaper articles?”
“Through a true crime forum, actually. Conspiracy theorists are buzzing about them. I’m hoping they’re part of the eight.”
He told her the names of the cities and towns that Molina had mentioned. “Are they the ones you found?”
She nodded. “Yes, thank goodness. The victims in the articles were found in Niagara Falls; Carlisle, Pennsylvania; and Miami. It makes no sense. Big cities and small towns, all over the country. There doesn’t seem to be any pattern.”
He frowned. “There is a pattern. There has to be. We just haven’t found it yet.”
“We will,” she murmured. “We have to.”
He turned the data over in his mind. “Clearly this is someone with the means to travel. Or it’s his job.”
“A truck driver maybe?”
Gideon nodded. “It would make sense.”
She closed her laptop and turned in her seat, one hand cradling Brutus. “So this guy Danton. Your boss says he’s on the up-and-up?”
“She couldn’t find anything on him. Which doesn’t necessarily mean he’s good. You’ll still stay with me, and if I say run, you take the car and go.”
“Okay.”
He glanced at her, expecting to see her jaw hardened in opposition to his command. But she simply sat there, petting the dog. “You will?”
“You’ll be smarter about protecting yourself if you’re not worrying about me.”
“That’s true. We’re nearly there.” He swallowed hard, acknowledging the eels that were slithering through his gut. What if this guy knew nothing? Worse, what if he was really some kind of degenerate who’d taken advantage of Eileen?
Her hand closed around his arm. “If he doesn’t know where Eileen went after she got off the bus in Portland, you’ll find another way to trace her steps, okay?”
“Okay.”
MACDOEL, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 11:45 A.M.
Gale Danton’s home was a plain, single-story structure with an oversized couch facing a big picture window that looked out onto his view of the mountains. This was where he seated the Fed and Daisy.
Which was very lucky because it meant their car was unattended.
He lugged the two jugs of bleach to the Fed’s car and pried open the gas cap cover. He had experience with this maneuver, having stopped several of his guests on the side of the road this way. Plus, bleach was a staple.
One never knew when one would have to clean up the scene of a nasty altercation. He had experience with that, too.
He thought of the one time he’d been disrupted by a guest’s angry boyfriend, just as he was forcing the woman into the trunk of his car. He’d had to shoot the man, right there in the deserted parking lot behind the restaurant where the woman had worked. There had been a lot of blood that he’d needed to clean up after disposing of the man’s body.
And the guy had been heavy! That had not been an easy evening. He’d needed to run to the all-night grocery and buy bleach to decontaminate the scene. Ever since then, he’d carried bleach with him wherever he went. Always in a laundry basket along with a box of fabric softener sheets, just in case someone asked.
It took him only a few seconds to pour the bleach into Reynolds’s gas tank, first one bottle, then the other, because he’d fitted the mouths of the jugs with vortex breakers. No swirl, no wait. It was a trick he’d picked up watching pit crews on race day.
He then slunk back down the driveway to his car and drove for fifteen minutes before stopping. He’d wait here. The Fed’s sedan wouldn’t make it more than fifteen or twenty minutes before his engine locked up.
Once that happened, he’d have nowhere to go. He’d be a sitting duck.
He checked his gun, made sure there was a bullet chambered. All set.
All he had to do was wait.
MACDOEL, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 11:45 A.M.
“You have quite a view,” Daisy murmured, staring out Gale Danton’s big picture window at the mountains in the distance.
“Thank you.” He handed her a mug of steaming coffee. “This should warm you up.”
Daisy wrapped her hands around the mug, nearly sighing at the heat seeping into her palms. It wasn’t the weather that had her hands so cold, even though the temperatures had dropped as they’d made their way north through the mountains. It was fear, plain and simple. She was terrified that Gideon would be disappointed.
And that they’d lose the trail that connected them to Eileen’s killer.
And Trish’s. But she couldn’t let herself dwell on that right now. She could fall apart later. Right now she needed to focus on Gideon, who sat next to her on a flannel sofa, his back ramrod straight. She let her body lean into his, just enough that he remembered he wasn’t alone.
“So.” Danton sat in a chair kitty-corner to the sofa. He was a tall, thin man with a smile that seemed to cover his whole face. He’d shaken her hand and immediately declared that her hands were like blocks of ice. After which he’d leaped into host mode, leaving them alone in his living room.
He hadn’t asked for ID. Hadn’t asked them anything other than if they wanted coffee. Tilting his gray head, he studied Gideon. “How can I help you, Agent Reynolds?”
Oh, I hope you can, Daisy thought.
“Thank you for welcoming us into your home,” Gideon said a little stiffly. Because he was nervous. Because this was important. “I’m here because I’m a friend of Eileen’s.”
If Daisy had thought Danton would look surprised, she’d been wrong.
“So you’re that Gideon,” he said with a sad smile.
Gideon stared at him. “She mentioned me?”
Danton nodded. “Oh, yes. She was hoping to find you. Someday, anyway. She called you by a different last name.”
“Terrill,” Gideon murmured. “That was my mother’s husband’s last name.”
“Yes, that was it. She was aware that you’d probably changed your name. She still hoped to find you. I take it that she didn’t.”
Gideon shook his head, then swallowed audibly. “She’s missing.”
Danton abruptly frowned. “What do you mean, missing?”
“She . . .” Gideon pursed his lips and started again. “Her locket was found a few days ago. By Miss Dawson.”
Daisy looked up at him and he nodded slightly. She turned to Danton. “I was attacked Thursday night.”
“Oh my!” Danton leaned forward. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, thank you. I was able to get away, but I grabbed at the man’s throat. I didn’t realize I was holding a locket in my hand until I was safe.”
Danton frowned again. “Eileen’s locket? No way. That chain would never break.” His expression became pained. “It was welded on her. She had a burn mark on the back of her neck.”
“She’d replaced the chain at some point,” Daisy said. “Or someone did it for her.”
Danton paled. “You suspect foul play?”
“It’s possible,” Daisy said. “The night after I was attacked, the man attacked a friend of mine.” She closed her eyes for a moment.
“Daisy’s friend was murdered sometime on Friday night,” Gideon said softly, keeping her from having to say it aloud.
She opened her eyes when Danton made a small choking sound. His eyes had filled with tears. “Oh, Miss Dawson, I’m so very sorry. You think the same person hurt Eileen?”