Stalked. Elizabeth Heiter

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      SSA—Supervisory Special Agent. SSAs run squads. Each field office of the FBI has numerous squads, broken up by type of investigation—white collar, intelligence, civil rights, counterterror, violent crime, etc.

      SWAT—Special Weapons and Tactics. All the FBI field offices have SWAT teams, and Special Agents who are SWAT members do so as an ancillary duty—in addition to work on a regular squad. SWAT agents handle high-risk tactical operations. Some police departments also have their own SWAT teams.

      UNSUB—Unknown Subject. UNSUBs are targets of investigations where the person who committed the crime is not known by name.

      WFO—Washington Field Office. The FBI has fifty-six field offices across the US and Puerto Rico, as well as approximately 380 Resident Agencies (smaller offices). The WFO and its connected Resident Agency have jurisdiction in Washington, DC, and northern Virginia.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Praise

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Dear Reader

       FBI Terms and Acronyms

       Prologue

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Epilogue

       Acknowledgments

       Copyright

       Prologue

      “You’ve got to stop this.”

      Her husband’s voice reached her slowly, as if from a great distance, even though she knew he was standing at the doorway to her daughter’s room. Instead of turning, Linda Varner continued methodically pulling things out from underneath Haley’s unmade bed.

      A red-and-white cheerleading pom-pom. A bright pink sweatshirt Haley wore over everything. A stack of glossy magazines, dedicated to the things a teenage girl worried about, like how to know if a boy had a crush on her.

      Linda suppressed a sob before it passed her lips. Still, she felt her body shudder and knew her husband had seen it.

      “This won’t bring her home,” Pete said softly, in the kind of careful, muted tone usually reserved for funeral homes and grave sites.

      Linda squeezed her eyes tight, bringing the sweatshirt up to her nose.

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