frowned and shook his head.
“The perp’s been sending them to Maggie over the last six months.”
Anger boiled inside. No wonder Maggie hadn’t been herself lately.
Did anyone on the team know? He felt his frown deepening, certain she wouldn’t have told any of them, no matter how close the team was.
“The case agents checked with the other victims,” James continued. “None of the others have received anything. But Maggie got a new one last night.” He looked at his watch. “This morning, actually.”
Grant looked toward the bustling conference room. So that was why the other VCMO squad had gathered. Maggie must have found the letter when she’d gone home. Which explained why she’d never shown at the bar.
Now he really wished he’d called her, even though chances were, she wouldn’t have asked for his help.
“This letter was different from the others. The others were psychological-sick, but meant to hurt from a distance. This one was a threat. And given your background...” James stared expectantly at him, not needing to finish his sentence.
Grant had worked in the New York field office for eight years before moving to WFO, and while he’d been there, he’d closed a serial murder case with unusual elements. Specific dates of attacks over a number of years, letters to one particular victim. In that case, it was a woman who had escaped.
“You think my experience on the Manhattan Strangler case—”
“Could help close this one,” James finished. “Yes. Kammy Ming has requested you be moved to her squad for the duration of the case. Full-time. We’re going to catch him before the next anniversary. There’s no other option.”
“He said he was coming back for Maggie, didn’t he?” Grant asked, shades of the homicide case he’d closed coming back to him. The warm blood spurting on him as he’d driven the perp’s knife into him. Carrying the victim out to the ambulance, then being shoved in with her to have his own wounds stitched up.
Grant had caught the guy four years after he’d started killing, but it had almost been too late for the woman he’d come back for. The thought of Maggie being loaded into an ambulance made him queasy.
“Look, Kammy wants your help,” James said. “But if you being on SWAT with Maggie is going to be a conflict...”
Suddenly glad he was sitting down, Grant shook his head and hoped for once, James’s intuition would fail him.
“Are you sure?” James persisted. “Because once she hears you’re on the case, if she asks you about it, you still have to keep it all confidential. Can you do that?”
Could he? He wasn’t sure. Worse yet, Grant was pretty sure Maggie had no idea he knew about her past. How would she react to him being on the case now?
Did he even want to be on this case? He didn’t have to ask Maggie to know she wouldn’t want him involved.
It was one thing to walk into dangerous situations with her—he trained with her and knew she could handle herself. But to go through all the details of what had happened to her a decade ago, back when she’d been a scared college kid? Being her friend now, feeling the way he did about her, did he have any right to dig into the worst day of her life, without her permission?
“Well?” James demanded, staring expectantly.
Then again, how could he sit by and not do anything when he had a chance to stop the man who’d hurt her?
Rage and determination filled him in equal measure, drowning out the nausea. “Yes, I want in on the investigation.”
“Good,” James said, standing up. “Then, get in the conference room. You start right now.”
“Why now?” Maggie asked as she walked into her living room. “And how long have you been up?” she added, noticing the pillows and blankets she’d put on the couch for Scott looked untouched. The guest room bed she’d made up for Ella was probably still made, too.
She glanced at her watch—10:00 a.m. Which meant she’d been in bed for about four hours. Not that she’d slept much. She’d spent most of the time trying every combat nap technique she’d learned from Scott, who’d trained with military special operations teams for his HRT sniper position. Still, every time she’d drifted off to sleep, she’d startled awake almost immediately.
Despite having gotten out of bed at five in the morning when she’d called them over, Ella and Scott looked wide-awake.
Ella handed her a cup of coffee. “We stayed up.”
“What did I miss?” Maggie asked, looking back and forth between them. But neither of them needed to answer. She could tell from their faces. “You talked about how you were going to protect me, didn’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Scott said. “We both know you can take care of yourself.”
“Thank—”
“But that doesn’t mean we’re leaving you alone,” he cut her off, putting a hand on her arm. “Get ready for some houseguests. Or pack a bag. And don’t even think about arguing.”
Maggie was both annoyed and relieved. If it was one of them in trouble, she’d be doing the same thing. They were a team; they always had been.
“Okay. But I want to stay here.” They could take turns staying with her—she knew there was no stopping them—but she didn’t want to bring trouble to their doorsteps.
Especially since neither one lived alone. Ella’s fiancé, Logan, was a cop, and Scott’s girlfriend, Chelsie—who’d moved in with him a week ago—was FBI. But neither of them had signed up for this, and although Maggie knew they’d help if she asked, she didn’t want to drag them into it, too.
Scott looked surprised at her easy agreement, but he changed the subject, probably worried she’d change her mind. “Maggie, you haven’t told Mom and Dad about the letters, have you? Or Nikki?”
“No.” She took a sip of coffee, and the hot liquid burned the back of her throat, clearing her head. “And I don’t plan to now, either. What are they going to do from Indiana, besides worry?”
She got ready to fight Scott on it—her parents had worried enough about her, ten years ago. She didn’t want them repeating it now. And Nikki had only been twelve then, so they’d tried to keep the details from her. Nikki knew now—since the Fishhook Rapist had never been caught, she’d read about him in the news over the years. But Maggie didn’t want her little sister to worry, especially not while Nikki was just moving into her first apartment, starting her first job.
“I agree,” Scott said, surprising her.
“You do?”
“Yes. We both know Mom and Dad will just call you constantly, insisting you come home. And you don’t need the distraction. We need to focus on stopping him. I want
