“I don’t want to go.”
“You have to,” she whispered into the girl’s ear. “You have to. I promise to come for you.”
“You swear?” she gasped.
“Yes,” she said with a conviction that surprised her.
“Lock her in her room and then stand guard outside the house.”
The driver nodded and took Hanna by the arm, pulling her toward the door. The girl cried louder while Riley’s stomach knotted.
When it was the two of them, she faced the Shark. “Who’s the other player?”
He smiled. “You are about to find out.”
Bowman drove the backcountry roads in his black SUV at speeds bumping eighty miles an hour as he monitored Riley’s signal on his phone. The signal was growing stronger, so he knew he was getting closer. She was less than three miles from him. Just a little more time . . .
And then in a blink the beep went dead.
“Shit.” He tapped the console on the dash. He grabbed his cell and dialed Andrews. On the first ring he heard, “Andrews.”
“I lost the signal,” Bowman said.
“I see you on my map. When did you lose the signal?”
“Moments ago.”
“How far ahead of you do you estimate she is?”
“I don’t know. Fifteen minutes. Twenty. The scanner says she’s about three miles from me.”
“Give me a second to check the area homes.”
Bowman eased off on the gas pedal, knowing he should stop and wait for Andrews, but too worried to sit still. “Hurry up.”
“I’m calculating.”
“Need it yesterday.”
Silence followed and then Andrews said, “There’s a large estate twenty clicks due west on Route 602. It’s called the Sheffield Estate. It was built five years ago by . . . shit. It was built by Byline Entertainment.”
Bowman cursed. “Vicky’s body was found in the field rented by Byline for the concert. The Shark is a brazen bastard.”
“What do you need?” Andrews asked.
“Feed directions into my GPS. And tell Shield. I want all the troops in on this op.”
“Consider it done. Bowman, I’ve been watching Riley’s video over and over trying to dig every detail out of it. I’ve isolated a sound. I think I know who’s playing for Riley’s life.”
Riley sat in a large red straight-backed chair with thick walnut armrests. Like everything in the house, it was the finest of its kind. The Shark felt as if he deserved the best.
He sat at the table and carefully arranged the chips, clearly excited about the game.
She couldn’t resist goading him. “What does your opponent get if he wins?”
“He won’t win.”
“But what if he does?” she challenged. “Does he get another half-million dollars this time?”
“This time he does get a sizable amount of money, but more important, he gets his freedom and my promise that I’ll never bother him again.”
“He doesn’t want to be here.”
The Shark shrugged. “I actually think he does. Made me twist his arm, but I saw the change in his eyes when he accepted the challenge.”
“Why him?”
“How can it be a rematch unless we have all the players from the first game?”
“You sent Lenny into the woods. You bet I’d be the one to find him.”
He smiled. “Betting is a hard habit to break.”
The Shark seemed to know all the angles of his opponent before the games began. “Why my type? What’s the deal with dark-headed runaways?”
“You are searching for motivation. That’s your cop mind working. Very good.”
She knew enough about interrogation to know that he’d talk more if she sounded as if she empathized. “I would wager some woman must have hurt you very badly.”
“I never thought I had a type or could really care about anyone until Angie.”
Angie had been the seventeen-year-old runaway. “How did you meet her?”
“She was following one of the bands. Young, wise beyond her years, but ultimately a lost soul.”
“And you wanted to help her.” She nearly choked on the words.
His smile faltered. “I loved her. I tried to save her from the streets until I realized she was too damaged to save.”
“How was she damaged?”
“She couldn’t control herself. I promised her the world and realized she was seeing other men.” For a moment his face took on a faraway expression. “She looked so much like you.”
“What happened? Why did you kill her?”
“I was gambling large to impress her. I took risks I’d never taken before. When the last card turned and I realized I’d won, it was thrilling. I went to her immediately and told her what I’d won for her. But the moment I took her in my arms, I knew she’d cheated on me.”
“How could you tell?”
“I could smell another man on her. When I called her a whore, she just laughed. It was her taunts that sent me into a rage. She was an ungrateful bitch.”
“Maybe she hadn’t cheated on you.”
“She had. I know it. I know women cheat, and yet I believed she was different. If I hadn’t loved her so much, I wouldn’t have killed her. My emotions ran so deep.”
“And after she was dead?”
“I missed her almost immediately. I wanted to forgive her, but she was gone. And then I started to see her face in some of the faces of the young runaways that summer. The urge to gamble returned. And so did the urge to kill.”
Riley wanted to keep him talking. She was stealing time on the slim hope Bowman would find Hanna and her. “What was it about the girls that reminded you of Angie?”
“The ones I liked the best were smart and real survivors. They were strong. Scrappers like Angie. They weren’t afraid of me. I wanted to see the fight in their eyes when I strangled them. Angie fought me to the end.”
He raised his focus, allowing it to trail over her face and hair. “I prefer it when your hair isn’t tied in a knot.”
Panic tugged at her composure, but she shoved it aside, refusing to show him any fear. She took her hair tie out, tipped her head downward slightly, and ran her fingers through her hair. “How much do I remind you of Angie?”
“More than any of the others.” His voice deepened.
She curled a strand of hair around her finger. “When this is over, the first thing I’m going to do is cut my hair.”
He laughed. “Angie would have said something like that.”
“You also killed the singer,” she pressed. “Shield’s informant.”
His expression sharpened. “That pretty girl asked one too many questions.”
“I’m not Angie. Unlike her, I’m getting out of this alive.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “You’re avoiding the real question. Don’t you want to know who was willing to risk your life for a card game?”
Yeah. That was at the top of her list. But right now she needed more time. “I’m more interested in you. Think all this rage means you have mommy issues?”
He laughed. “No. I loved my mother very much. And if you think talking will delay the game, you’re wrong.”
“I’m thinking your mother didn’t love you at all.”