you got here, Gentry. Everyone’s waiting for you.”
Detective Asher Bauer was average height with a well-muscled build maintained by his obsession with the gym. His need to heft weights was matched only by his determination to keep a year-round tan and a trendsetting club wardrobe. The sandy-blond hair and sleep-deprived gaze completed the party-player look he appeared to fancy. If he was smart, he’d find something for those bloodshot eyes. Since his fiancée died he was determined to spend his off time deep in a bottle of Jack and screwing anyone who would spread her legs. Bobbie wished she could find the right words to make him see alcohol and casual sex weren’t the answer.
At least he hasn’t slit his wrists the way you did.
Bobbie closed out the thoughts and produced another of her standard fake smiles for the guy. “As soon as I get coffee, I’ll go to the LT’s office.”
Bauer moved his head from side to side. “Go to the conference room. I’ll bring your coffee. Peterson’s in there, too.”
“Black, no sugar,” Bobbie reminded him before changing directions and heading for the conference room.
Whatever was going on, the chief’s presence confirmed it was a high-profile situation like the Storyteller. Why else would they have called you?
Anticipation seared through her veins and her fingers itched to draw her weapon and hold on to it just in case. The door to the conference room was open. Peterson sat at the head of the table, Lieutenant Eudora Owens to his right, Sergeant Lynette Holt next to her. Across from the LT were Montgomery County Sheriff Virgil Young and Special Agent Michael Hadden from the local FBI office.
All looked up when Bobbie entered the room. “I guess I’m the last one to the party.” She reached for a chair.
“Not quite, Detective.”
Her pulse bumping into a faster rhythm, Bobbie turned to the man standing in the open doorway. Special Agent Anthony LeDoux. Resentment, bitterness and no small amount of dislike stirred. She clenched her jaw and tamped down the surge of emotions.
LeDoux was only four years older than her. He had been on the Storyteller case since the eighth victim was left at his front door. At the time he’d been a brand-new profiler and his work had apparently drawn the Storyteller’s attention. LaDoux’s light brown hair was shorter now than it was last December when she’d first met him, and the wedding band he’d worn back then was missing.
“Why don’t we get started?” the chief suggested, impatience radiating in his tone. Peterson didn’t care much for LeDoux, either, and he didn’t mind showing it.
Bobbie shifted her attention to those gathered at the table. “What’s going on?” She didn’t ask why she was here, she was just grateful not to be left in the dark.
“Lieutenant Owens will brief us,” Peterson said, his somber gaze now resting on the Major Crimes Bureau commander.
Bobbie sat down next to Holt. Bauer showed up and took the seat beside her. Thankfully the cup of coffee he sat in front of Bobbie smelled drinkable, which wasn’t always the case around here. Many of the detectives in CID were former military who’d done numerous tours of duty overseas, and their definition of full-flavored coffee was something strong enough to eat a hole in the cup.
“About five this morning the car belonging to Gwen Adams was discovered in the driveway of a vacant home on Highland Avenue,” Owens announced. “Her purse and keys were still in the car. No sign of her cell phone. Witnesses say the car has been there since yesterday morning or the night before, but none saw the driver or anyone else in or near the vehicle. It wasn’t until this morning when the Realtor came by on his way out of town that anyone realized it shouldn’t be there. We’ve had no hits on our BOLO on Ms. Adams, and her boyfriend, Liam Neely, is missing, as well. Based on the number of calls made between Neely and Carl Evans during the forty or so hours before Evans’s suicide, we’ve listed Neely as a person of interest.”
Equal parts pain and anger welled inside Bobbie. If the Storyteller followed his usual MO, he would torture Gwen relentlessly and rape her repeatedly. Bobbie closed her eyes. She had to do something. Gwen had worked so patiently with her during her recovery. She refused to give up even when Bobbie was at her lowest. The chief could keep her on admin leave, but Bobbie had to help find Gwen before it was too late. Before the bastard did those things to her...
Whispers and images attempted to invade her thoughts. Strong-arming those ugly memories aside, she glanced at LeDoux, who was busy flipping through pages of reports. To Owens, she said, “Obviously you’ve decided her abduction is the work of the Storyteller.” Bobbie didn’t know why she’d bothered with the statement. Of course it was the Storyteller.
“Actually,” LeDoux cut in, “I made that call.”
Another wave of tension washed over Bobbie as she met his gaze. “Based on what?” Was there more he wasn’t telling her, because he couldn’t possibly know what Evans had said to her?
To say she despised LeDoux would be a vast understatement. He had known having her on the task force last December would push the Storyteller’s buttons. He’d been desperate to see movement on the case. But then, she couldn’t hold him responsible for getting her family killed. She had quickly realized the Storyteller would be drawn to her since she fit the profile of his preferred victim and she’d stayed on the case anyway. Both she and LeDoux had hoped to be the one to bring the infamous serial killer to his knees. Apparently—she glanced at the bare ring finger on his left hand—they had both paid a price.
“Based on my recommendation,” Chief Peterson announced.
“Why am I here?” Bobbie asked this question directly of the chief. She could feel Lieutenant Owens glaring at her. Didn’t matter. The question was a valid one.
“Because I wanted you here,” LeDoux answered.
Bobbie turned back to the agent, his words reverberating inside her. This time she couldn’t keep the anger from her voice when she spoke. “I should have recognized the MO.”
“That’s enough, Detective,” Owens warned.
“We believe,” LeDoux began, “Gwen Adams is being held somewhere in Montgomery County. Perry will want to stay near you, Bobbie.”
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an acknowledgment.
“Chief Peterson called me yesterday as soon as the Carl Evans case broke,” LeDoux continued, speaking to the room at large. “Considering the transfer of Detective Gentry’s medical records and the research Evans had been doing on the internet, it’s clear this case is related to the Storyteller investigation.”
“With Perry active again in our jurisdiction,” Owens picked up from there, “we have to assume he has returned for you, Detective.”
All eyes at the table moved in Bobbie’s direction. She shrugged. “Why else would he resurface and risk getting caught?”
“Precisely,” the chief punctuated. “Which is why I believe it would be in your best interest to go into protective custody.”
Bobbie had wondered when that suggestion would come up. She was not running from Perry. The only way to stop him was head-on. The one chance Gwen had of surviving was if they found him quickly enough. Bobbie stood and placed her badge and her service weapon on the
