“And,” Agent Sterling added sternly, “you’re underage.”
“Too young to party, just old enough to participate in federal investigations of serial murder.” Lia let out an elaborate sigh. “Story of my life.”
“Lia.” Dean leveled his own version of Briggs’s look at her.
“I know, I know, don’t agitate the nice FBI agents.” Lia waved away Dean’s objection, but dialed it back a notch anyway. “Are we at least getting our rooms comped?” she asked.
Briggs and Sterling glanced briefly at each other.
“The FBI has been given a complimentary suite at the Desert Rose,” Judd said, stepping in and answering on their behalf. “I, on the other hand, have secured two rooms at a modest hotel just off of the Strip.”
In other words: Judd wanted to keep some distance between us and the FBI’s base of operations. Considering that I’d been taken captive by not one, but two UNSUBs in the past six months, I certainly wasn’t going to complain about the idea of keeping our visibility low.
“Sloane,” Dean said suddenly, drawing my attention in her direction. “Are you okay?”
Sloane’s teeth were bared in what was, quite possibly, the largest, fakest smile I’d ever seen. She froze like a deer in headlights. “I’m not practicing smiling,” she said quickly. “Sometimes people’s faces just do this.”
That statement was met with silence from every single person on the plane.
Sloane hastily changed the subject. “Did you know that New Hampshire has more hamsters per capita than any other state?”
I was used to Sloane spitting out statistics at random, but given that we were getting ready to disembark in Vegas, I would have expected something a little more thematically applicable. That was when I realized—Vegas.
Sloane had been born and raised in Las Vegas.
If we’d had normal childhoods, we wouldn’t be Naturals. I didn’t know much about Sloane’s background, but I’d caught pieces here and there. Sloane hadn’t gone home for Christmas. Like Lia and Dean, that meant she had nowhere to go.
“Are you okay?” I asked her quietly.
“Affirmative,” Sloane chirped. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Lia said bluntly. Then she reached over and pulled Sloane to her feet. “But put me in charge of your life decisions for the next few days, and you will be.” Lia punctuated those words with a glittering smile.
“Your statistical track record for decision-making is somewhat concerning,” Sloane told her seriously. “But I’m willing to take this under advisement.”
Briggs brought one hand to his temple. Sterling opened her mouth—probably to decree that Lia not be allowed to make anyone’s Vegas-related decisions, including her own—but Judd caught the female agent’s eyes and shook his head slightly. He had a soft spot for Sloane, and it was clear to everyone on this plane that she wasn’t happy to be home.
Home isn’t a place, Cassie. The memory crept up on me. Home is the people who love you most, the people who will always love you, forever and ever, no matter what.
I stood and pushed back against the memory. I couldn’t dwell on my mother. We were in Vegas for a reason. There was work to do.
The door to the jet opened. Agent Briggs turned to Agent Sterling. “After you.”
YOU
Three is the number. The number of sides on a triangle. A prime number. A holy number.
Three.
Three times three.
Three times three times three.
You run your fingertips over the edge of an arrowhead. You’re a good shot. You knew you would be. But killing the old man brought you no joy. You prefer the long game, the careful planning, lining up dominoes in loops and rows until all you have to do is knock over one—
The girl in the pool.
The flames burning the skin from number two.
Perfect. Elegant. Better, by far, than skewering the old man.
But there is an order to things. There are rules. And this was how it had to be. January third. The arrow. An old man in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Have you gotten their attention yet?
You pocket the arrowhead. In another life, in another world, three would be enough. You could be happy with three.
Three is a good number.
But in this life, in this world, three is not enough. You can’t stop. You won’t.
If you don’t have their attention yet, you will soon.
I’d spent most of my childhood in motels and apartment buildings where rent was paid by the week. Compared to some of the places my mother and I had stayed, the hotel Judd had booked for us looked nice enough—if a bit run-down.
“It’s everything I dreamed it would be.” Lia sighed happily. In addition to detecting lies, she also had an aptitude for telling them. With every appearance of sincerity, she eyed the building’s exterior like she had stumbled across a long-lost love.
“It’s not that bad,” Dean told her.