her until her father made his move, no matter how long that took.
“Start from the beginning,” Addie insisted, turning her attention back to Weston. “And so help me, every word coming out of your mouth had better be the truth, or I’ll let Jericho have a go at you. I don’t make a habit of letting my big brother fight my battles for me, but in your case I’ll make an exception.”
Weston figured that wasn’t a bluff.
The beginning required him to take a deep breath. “Two years ago I went to my fiancée’s office to see her. I’d just come off an undercover assignment and hadn’t seen her in a few weeks. Her name was Collette, and I walked in on someone murdering her.”
Hell, it hurt to say that aloud. It didn’t set well with Addie, either, because she made a slight gasping sound.
“It was my birth father,” she supplied. “I saw a list of his known victims. All sixteen of them, and Collette Metcalf was one of them.”
Weston nodded, and it took him a moment to trust his voice again. “I didn’t know it was him at the time, and I didn’t get a look at his face because he knifed me and ran out. I obviously survived, but Collette wasn’t so lucky. She died by the time the ambulance arrived.”
She touched her fingers to her mouth. It was trembling again, and Addie leaned against the edge of her desk, no doubt for support. “Your name wasn’t in the reports I read of the murders.”
“No. The FBI and Rangers thought it best if they didn’t make it public. They didn’t want him coming after me to tie up loose ends. The killer hadn’t gotten a good look at my face because I was still wearing my undercover disguise. But he must have found out who I was because letters from the Moonlight Strangler started arriving three months ago.”
“Three months?” she repeated under her breath.
Addie no doubt picked up on the timing. Weston doubted it was a coincidence that the letters started arriving shortly after he met her.
“The killer mentions me in these letters?” she asked, and Weston had to nod.
That meant the Moonlight Strangler had perhaps already been watching Addie and had seen Weston with her. Or maybe the killer had been watching him. Either way, Weston figured the killer had started sending those letters because he knew about Addie and him sleeping together.
“All the letters and envelopes were typed,” Weston continued, “so there’s no handwriting to be analyzed. No fibers or trace on any of them. They were mailed from various locations all over the state.”
Addie shook her head. “How can you be sure they’re from the killer?”
“Because there are details in them that were withheld from the press. Details that only the Moonlight Strangler would know.”
She stayed quiet a moment. “The letters threatened you?”
“Taunted me,” Weston corrected. With details of Collette’s murder...and other things. I tried to draw the killer out. I made sure my address was public. I put out the word through criminal informants that I wanted to meet with him, but he wouldn’t come after me.”
“You made yourself bait,” Addie corrected.
“Plenty of times.”
Weston had failed at that, too.
“The killer’s never contacted me,” she said. “Of course I’ve been worried...scared,” Addie corrected, “that he would. Or that he would do even more than just contact me.” She paused. “How did you find out I was his biological daughter?”
“I was keeping tabs on anything to do with the Moonlight Strangler. As a Texas Ranger, I have access to the DNA databases, and I’d hoped there’d be a DNA match to someone.”
Her next breath was mixed with a sigh. “And there was. Then, because you’d found out I was his biological daughter, you...what?” No more sighing. Her eyes narrowed. “You thought he’d want to connect with the child he abandoned in the woods nearly thirty years ago?”
Her anger was back. Good. It was actually easier for him to deal with than the fear and hurt. But unfortunately, he was going to have to tell her something that would bring the fear back with a vengeance.
“Yesterday, I got this.” Weston took the paper from his pocket and turned on the light so she could better see it. “It’s the eighth letter he’s sent me. It’s a copy, not the original, so it’s okay for you to handle it.”
She didn’t take it at first. Addie just volleyed glances between him and the paper before she finally eased it out of his hand, taking it only by the corner as if she didn’t want to touch too much of it.
Since Weston knew every word that was written there, he watched Addie’s reaction. The shock.
And yes, the fear.
“‘Tell Addie that it’s time for me to end what I started thirty years ago,’” she read aloud. She paused. “‘I can’t have a little girl’s memories coming back to haunt me.’”
Her gaze skirted over the words again. She cleared her throat before her gaze came back to his.
“This is why you asked if I remembered anything,” Addie said. “I don’t,” she quickly added.
“And you don’t remember that?” He tipped his head to the scar on her cheek.
“No.” She handed him back the letter. “Did he cut the other women he killed like this?”
Weston settled for a nod. “That was kept out of the reports to the press, too. Only a handful of people know that he cut them first. Then strangled them.”
“I see.” Her mouth tightened a moment. “I’d always hoped I got the scar from a tree branch or something.”
Yes, since that was far better than the alternative. Because that scar on her face meant the Moonlight Strangler had already gone after her once. When she was just three years old.
Now he was coming for her again.
“The killer could be worried that you remembered something in that hypnosis session,” Weston said. “Or that you might remember something in the future. The FBI wants to do more sessions with you, right?”
She nodded, confirming what he already knew. Nearly every law enforcement agency in the state as well as the FBI wanted to keep pressing her to remember.
“We don’t have much time,” Weston continued. “He usually strikes on the night of a full or half moon. Like tonight.”
Her attention drifted to the window where she could see that the sun was only minutes away from setting. Something else flashed through her eyes. Not fear this time. But major concern.
“My mother’s in the house. And the ranch hands—”
Weston stepped in front of her to keep her from leaving. “They’re okay. For now. It’s you he wants, and, other than me, he hasn’t attacked or hurt anyone else when he murdered his victims.”
