The woman who seemed to be gunning for them. “I don’t get it. If she’s the woman Farris really wanted to kill, then why didn’t he go after her? Why hurt those other women? Why torture those victims if the mystery lady was the one he actually wanted under his knife?”
Her gaze dropped. Samantha licked her lips, a quick, nervous swipe of her tongue. “Maybe he was afraid of her...or maybe he loved her.” A bitter laugh slipped from her. “Could be both. Loved her and feared her and he couldn’t take that last step, not with her. Because if he killed her, if he pushed her out of his life, then there would be no going back. She’d just be gone.” Her lashes lifted and she gazed at him once more. “She’s dangerous. We have to find her.”
The woman had been stalking Samantha in a parking garage. Fuck, yes, they were going to find her.
*
A YELLOW LINE of police tape sectioned off the entrance to the little house on the cul-de-sac.
The broken window had been covered with cardboard. All of the lights were off. The house appeared...dark.
Beaten.
Dead?
Samantha slammed her car door and walked around the vehicle. They hadn’t hidden their ride this time. They’d parked right in front of the house. Secrets were in there—secrets that she intended to find.
Their mystery woman wasn’t going to stalk her through the streets. That wasn’t a game that Samantha would intend to play.
Blake gave a low whistle as he turned and looked at the quiet neighborhood. “Bet the neighbors here will be having nightmares for weeks.”
And they’d be trying to sell their property. No one wanted to be the one who lived next door to a serial killer.
Just not the kind of fame folks wished to have.
She didn’t head for the front door. Instead, Samantha went to the back of the house. A patio waited back there. Chairs. A fire pit. A wind chime. It was blowing with the evening breeze, an oddly peaceful sound in the middle of that madness.
The screen door was a few feet away and...
Samantha’s eyes narrowed on the screen. “Was that screen cut yesterday?” A small sliver, one near the lock.
Blake had followed her. His arm brushed against her shoulder as he pulled out his gun. “Don’t remember, but I’m not taking the chance that it wasn’t.”
She started to pull her own gun but...
I don’t have it. Hell. Bass still had her gun.
Blake met her stare and nodded. “You stay behind me.”
Right. She’d be happy to follow the guy with the gun.
He reached for the screen door. It slid right open. Someone had definitely been inside. Could be some curious neighborhood kid who was a little too interested in death. Could be a nosy reporter.
Could be our mystery lady.
It was dark in the house, but light still spilled in through the windows. The chalk outline of George’s body was on the floor. A chair was overturned. But...
Everything else looked normal. Eerily so.
No one was in the living room. The kitchen was empty. Blake began to advance down the narrow hallway.
And Samantha heard the low moan. A weak cry, almost one that sounded pain-filled. Adrenaline flooded through her body. Blake rushed forward.
A weak cry. A woman who’d seemed deceptively fragile.
A woman who knew how to lure her prey to her?
“Don’t!” Samantha cried out.
Blake looked back at her. He was a few steps ahead of Samantha in that tight hallway.
The moan came again. And then... “Help...”
Blake nodded toward Samantha. Then he raised his voice and said, “FBI! This is a crime scene. Come out now, with your hands up!”
Silence.
Then...
“Help...” Faint. So weak.
Blake pressed his body against the wall. Samantha did the same. Their eyes met for a moment. She knew he was about to run into the room, gun aimed, ready to face the threat. She’d go behind him, unarmed, yes, but not defenseless.
He gave a fast hand signal to Samantha and then he was rushing into the room, shoving the door open.
And Samantha heard a faint creak behind her. The softest of sounds.
Her head whipped around and she found herself staring into gleaming blue eyes.
“Shhh...” The redhead whispered.
What in the hell?
“Got you,” the woman said.
Then she sprang at Samantha with a knife.
CHAPTER SIX
THE DOOR SLAMMED into the wall. “FBI!” Blake roared but...
No one was in that little backroom. No desperate victim. No scheming redhead. Just...
A phone was on the floor and—
“Help...” A voice said, a voice that came from the phone. A freaking recording. One that had been left to lure them into that backroom. He whirled around. “No one is here, Samantha!”
Shock rolled through him.
Someone was there. The redhead was shoving a knife toward Samantha. He hadn’t heard the other woman—not so much as a fucking sound—but she was attacking. Going right for Samantha.
“No!” Blake yelled. He started to fire but the two women lunged at each other. The knife sliced over Samantha’s arm but she didn’t stop. She drove her fist into the other woman’s face. A hard hit that crunched cartilage.
The redhead howled and lifted that knife again.
Blake surged forward. “Freeze!”
She didn’t. The knife went straight toward Samantha again. But this time, he had a shot.