question.” One Lara sure as hell couldn’t answer. One she’d spent the entire drive back from the prison trying to figure out. She knocked back a slug of coffee, her head throbbing with a vengeance, her mounting frustration making her want to shriek. The clue could mean nothing—or something essential. It could be the key they needed to keep Moretti from claiming another victim, or yet another of his sadistic games. There was simply no way to tell.
What if he targeted that baby? That thought kept circling through her mind like a vulture, haunting her for the past few hours. But no matter how much the possibility scared her, she couldn’t let it freak her out. Moretti wanted her to panic. He wanted to keep her off balance and cause her to fall apart. She’d be playing right into his hands, ceding him the control he thrived on.
And there wasn’t a chance in hell she would let him win.
She downed another big swallow of coffee and scanned the team assembled around the conference room table, waiting for Victoria’s daughter to appear. They’d arrived for the post-kidnapping debriefing at noon, anxious to get a handle on this frustrating case. Because, frankly, it was beginning to take its toll. They all looked exhausted, their faces tense, their expressions reflecting the same myriad of emotions she felt—anger, confusion and downright fear.
“He can’t possibly mean my family,” Lara added, returning her mind to Moretti’s riddle. “Both my parents are dead.”
“Maybe by home he means your apartment, someone who lives in your building,” Cass suggested from across the table. Their tech guru sat with her back to the windows, the sunshine sparking highlights in her red hair. She looked unusually haggard, her face pale with fatigue, her oversized purple glasses not quite hiding the dark circles underscoring her eyes. Lara’s heart tugged in sympathy. She knew how difficult this case was for Cass. Every new victim had to remind her of her sister’s death at this monster’s hands.
And it was all Lara’s fault. Like it or not, the killer was choosing his victims because of her.
And somehow she had to make him stop.
“He might mean that,” Lara agreed. She stifled a sigh, hating that she didn’t know. These unanswered questions were driving her insane. She despised this feeling of failing, of always being a step behind while Moretti toyed with her and pulled the strings.
That was his goal—to twist the knife in deeper. To play with her and prolong the torture until whatever grand finale he had planned.
“Or maybe he means the Bureau,” Mei said. “You spend enough time working for it to qualify as home.”
“That’s true.” She smiled at Mei, a sharp, dedicated agent Lara had come to consider a friend. They put in the same ungodly hours and shared the same no-holds-barred mentality when it came to fighting crime.
“But if that’s the case, which office?” Lara continued, a note of frustration seeping into her voice. “Here? The one in D.C.? And how many people is he going to target? One? A dozen? Will he use a sniper again? Order another kidnapping—or do something totally different this time?”
“You’re sure he didn’t give you any other clues?” her partner, Nick Delano, asked. He sat directly across from her at the table with his strong arms crossed, his shrewd gaze on hers. And she had the distinct impression that he knew she was keeping secrets, that there was more going on than she’d revealed.
“No, nothing. He just said he was glad that I was suffering.”
“Sick bastard,” Mei murmured.
“No kidding.” She took another gulp of coffee, hoping Nick would leave it at that.
But her partner was too good an agent—suspicious as hell and tenacious. And after the time they’d spent together, he was beginning to know her too well.
He leaned toward her from across the table, skepticism etched on his handsome face. “I don’t buy it. He used the word home. That’s got to mean something else, something a lot more personal than—”
A knock on the conference room door cut him off. Lara eased out her breath, grateful for the reprieve. She hated deceiving her team. She wished she could confess what had her so badly shaken and enlist their help. God knew, she could use every bit of input she could get. Moretti was a formidable enough enemy without hiding information that might yield new clues.
And she liked Nick. A lot. She trusted him and respected his opinion, despite that aura of danger that both unnerved her and turned her on. But that baby’s safety depended on keeping her existence secret. She couldn’t reveal that story to anyone, no matter how desperately she wanted to come clean. Only Victoria knew the truth.
“Anna’s here, so listen up.” Victoria paused with her hand on the doorknob, waiting until everyone looked her way. “We’re going to keep this brief. My daughter’s tough, but she’s been through quite an ordeal. She’ll make a statement, answer a few questions, and then she’s going back home to rest. Got it?”
Lara added her assent to the murmurs rising around the table as Victoria pulled open the door. Her daughter stepped inside, carrying a sheath of papers, and gave the team a tremulous smile. Her face was devoid of makeup, her eye a sickening blackish-purple, her long blond hair scraped back in a haphazard ponytail that made her look younger than her nineteen years. She wore tattered jeans and sneakers, and an oversized sweatshirt that added to her vulnerable look.
Victoria ushered her to a seat, then handed the papers to Nick. “Here are the sketches of the kidnappers the artist made. Take a look, see if either of these people looks familiar.”
Lara took a copy from the pile and passed the rest to Mei. The kidnappers were Caucasians in their twenties. Neither looked remarkable in any way. They both had mundane features. They both wore dark glasses that covered their eyes. The man had so much facial hair Lara knew he had to be wearing a disguise. In fact, the pictures strongly resembled the sketches made from the other students’ descriptions—and were too generic to do any good. Her hopes for a break in this case began to fade.
“Anyone know them?”
No one answered. Victoria tossed her copy on the table and sighed. “It’s not much to go on, I know. We’ll put them in the system and see if there are any hits.” But the odds were against it, as they all knew.
Victoria turned to her daughter and gave her a nod. “Whenever you’re ready, Anna. Just start at the beginning and tell us what you remember.”
“Okay.” The young woman nibbled her lip, looking more shaken now that the ordeal was over and the reality of the danger had settled in. “They came into my philosophy class about halfway through the lecture. They flashed their IDs, said they were FBI and needed to talk to me. I thought you’d sent them.” She shot her mother an apologetic look. “I should have called you and checked.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Victoria said. “None of this was your fault.”
No, it was hers. And everyone knew it. Lara fought back a wave of guilt.
“They took me to their SUV. It was black. When I got inside, they blindfolded me. There was someone in the seat behind me with a gun.” Her face paled even more. “I didn’t see him when I got in. I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention, but I thought they were taking me to a safe house like they said.”
“You did fine,” Victoria
