Humpty Dumpty: The killer wants us to put him back together again
Author: Carolyn McCray
Date: 2013-08-02 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Mystery; Mystery Thriller; Thriller; Crime; Fiction; Suspense
Description: Humpty Dumpty: the killer wants us to put him back together again is the first book in the new series, The Nursery Rhyme Murders, by none other than the #1 Police Procedural and Hard Boiled Mystery bestselling author, Ben Hopkin! Praise for Humpty Dumpty... "Come for the murder, stay for the three-dimensional, realistically fractured characters! ... Long plane rides and rainy Saturday afternoons were made for books like this. If you like your suspense with a side of gruesome and a dash of humor, this is it." Brandon Stanley Amazon Reviewer "Humpty Dumpty is a wonderful start to what I hope wil
Publisher: Off Our Meds MultiMedia

From the #1 bestselling author in Hard Boiled Mysteries and Police Procedurals, Carolyn McCray, comes Humpty Dumpty, the first novel in the Nursery Rhyme Murders series.

**Warning: This book contains graphic/disturbing violence that can give you nightmares. This book is NOT for the faint of heart. Please do not purchase this book unless you are prepared for some sleepless nights!

Praise for Humpty Dumpty…

“Come for the murder, stay for the three-dimensional, realistically fractured characters! … Long plane rides and rainy Saturday afternoons were made for books like this. If you like your suspense with a side of gruesome and a dash of humor, this is it.”

Brandon Stanley

Amazon Reviewer

“Humpty Dumpty is a wonderful start to what I hope will be the first in a fun and thrilling series. I found myself flipping the pages to get to the end and what an ending. The story was well written and the dialogue was sharp, witty and fast-paced. The chemistry between the main characters, Joshua, Had and Cooper was magical… Eagerly awaiting the next installment in this series.”

Romano Robusto

Amazon Reviewer

“Another good crime series from one of my favorites. Once again Carolyn McCray has brought together an interesting cast of characters. Each member of the team has flaws, just like real people. The concept of using nursery rhymes as a theme for murder gives the story a creepy edge. The plot twists will keep you guessing.”

J. Duarte

Amazon Reviewer

“I am a big fan of this author’s novels… So, I have been excited and waiting a long time for this story… I was not disappointed and continued to read every single page all the way to an ending that was unbelievable, made me feel a little sick, and left me just as speechless as Agent Sariah Cooper… I have never read an ending to a book like this ever and it’s a vision that will be with me for quite a while.”

Robin Lee

Amazon Reviewer

"For me, a book that inspires my imagination so much that I can see the movie playing along as I go is a great read – and this definitely does that. Highly, heartily recommended for fans of murder/mystery novels, fans of James Patterson, and fans of action/mystery movies.”

Knikki Jacobsmeyer

Amazon Reviewer

If you enjoy the pace of Patterson, the glorious gore of Harris and the wit of Cornwall, you are going to LOVE Humpty Dumpty.

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About the Authors

Afterword

Other Works by Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin

Copyright

PROLOGUE

There were times when living in Charleston, South Carolina was as close to heaven as Crista could imagine. Times when it came pretty close to the ideal version of the South. Ladies sipping mint juleps on the porch in the cool evenings of early summer. Fireflies winking and blinking in the burgeoning darkness. Children playing kick-the-can out in the street, pausing only for the slowly passing cars.

Today was not one of those days.

Late summer was pretty much always hot and humid in the Deep South. But this? This was way past anything reasonable. This was the kind of summer weather where the central air couldn’t keep up with the brutal heat, and stepping out of the shower didn’t make a hill of beans' difference in the level of moisture surrounding you in the air.

And for some idiotic reason, this was the day that the girls had decided—no, demanded, the little monsters—that they wanted to go to the park and have a picnic. Yay. Good plan, kiddos.

The heavy sound of the cicadas filled the air with a buzzing that somehow made the heat all the more oppressive. It was a sound that Crista missed during the winters, but right now it was the audible expression of a world gone thermonuclear.

Her husband Brady was stuck at work for at least the next three or four hours. And right at this point, Crista envied him. So much. The thought of being indoors in an office building that had an industrial-sized air conditioning unit sounded like such a fantastic idea. She wiped a sheen of sweat away from her face while she tried to ignore the trickle that was creeping its way between her cleavage and down the inside of her bra.

It was so hot.

The air above the parking lot asphalt shimmered with the promise of nonexistent water that made Crista’s parched mouth try, and fail, to create saliva. There was that bottle of water she’d picked up at the gas station ten minutes ago, but by this point it was probably close to boiling in the enclosed car where she’d left it. The thought of pouring hot water into her gullet made her want to cry just a little bit. Well, if she had enough moisture left in her body to create tears, that was.

At least everything was still mostly green. They’d gone to visit Brady’s family in West Texas a month ago and while it wasn’t nearly as humid as Charleston, everything had been brown. Crista had come away so depressed that she’d seriously considered trying to buy herself Prozac from Taylor, one of the soccer moms in the neighborhood.

There was no way the woman was that naturally happy. Chemicals of one kind or another had to be involved. Maybe it was meth? Crista would have to ask Jodi. Jodi was that neighbor who knew everything about everyone. It was enough to make a saint nervous. Crista did everything she could to keep that woman on her side.

A middle-aged Filipino man pushed a handcart with pictures of ice cream novelties depicted in glossy splendor on its sides. Pavlov’s bell had nothing on this guy’s chime. The kids screamed and swarmed around the man, clutching sweaty bills in their tiny fists. Red faces demanded instant satisfaction as fast as the man could deliver it.

Predictably, Crista’s own girls popped out of whatever hole they’d been hiding in, running over to see if maybe Mom would relent on her no sugar rule just this once. And you know what? Sure. Why not?

It was way too hot to argue with them. She couldn’t even muster up her normal righteous anger at the ice cream man for corrupting her children with his devil wares. In fact, maybe she’d send an extra buck or two with Molly, the oldest of her three girls. See if maybe there was some frozen confection in that man’s cart that wasn’t sweet enough to make her teeth rot right away.

Crista dug around in her purse, encountering a liquid chocolate bar that she’d confiscated from her middle child the other day. That was a decision she was regretting, as brown stickiness now coated most of the contents of her handbag. Closing her fingers around her wallet, she fished around until she came up with a five and two ones. That should be enough to make everyone happy… until the ice cream started to melt. Whatever. She’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

Molly was placed in charge of the transaction, and the new responsibility shone from her face, with the radiance of power combined with a layer of sweat. She turned to run toward the ice cream Mecca, but tripped over her own feet in a fit of excitement. Landing face-first in the sand, Molly somehow managed to keep a tight grip on the money with which she’d been entrusted.

At least the girl had her priorities straight.

But the screams that issued forth from her daughter’s throat drove all thoughts of fiscal responsibility right out of Crista’s mind. She rushed over to Molly, trying to see what had caused her yelling fit. Was she hurt? There was no blood that Crista could see, although it did seem like Molly’s hand was sticking up out of the sand at a strange angle.

And then Crista’s screams joined those of her daughter.

The hand wasn’t Molly’s.

CHAPTER 1

Joshua Wright was having a wonderful time, in spite of the crowd. Okay, okay, maybe even because of it. It was his youngest daughter’s birthday and everyone was there. Friends from the neighborhood, family… yes, his father-in-law George was there too, but it wasn’t that bad. It was Olivia’s big day, and little Livvie was her boompa’s favorite, so the old man was on his best behavior. Still not a match for a normal person on a bad day, but no major fights yet.

Jacquie, his wife, was bringing in the birthday cake, three candles burning brightly in the darkened dining room. She was singing, her face lit from beneath from the cake. There was no denying it—his wife was a stunner. How she had come from that cranky grouch of a father, Joshua had no idea.

Speaking of the old curmudgeon, George approached Joshua from the side, holding out a card to him. Strange. Why was he giving Joshua the card? It was Livvie’s birthday. A strange dread settled into the pit of his stomach as he opened the bright pink envelope, uncovering the frilly greeting card inside.

There were puppies all over the surface of the missive. Fitting. Livvie loved dogs. She loved all animals, but dogs were her go-to choice. There were times that Joshua thought that his little girl liked animals a lot more than she did people. Deep down, he was pretty sure he agreed with her.

Opening the card, Joshua read the words that had been carved on the inside, the words scrawled with deep fury, cutting deep into the paper. The meaning of the words seared into his soul, burning away all happiness, all light. All love.

She would have been 16 today.

An agonizing flush of shame and horror washed down Joshua’s spine. The cake in front of his beautiful little blonde-haired girl went suddenly dark, all light fleeing the room in an instant. He couldn’t breathe. He was choking on his guilt. She was gone, and it was his fault. All his fault.

Joshua’s eyes opened up, releasing him from the nightmare. He felt the oppressive heat of the late afternoon that was ebbing into the dull, patient simmer of early evening. July in New York.

She would have been 16 today.

This year’s card that his nightmare had mimicked lay open on the dashboard of Joshua’s car. He’d gone in to the post office box expecting it, but hoping nonetheless that it wouldn’t be there.

He should have known better. Hope was for suckers and characters in romance novels. Same difference, now that he came to think of it.

Even with everything that Joshua did to try to lose track of the days of the year, he always knew when they were coming. The un-birthdays. There was no forgetting. Ever.

They weren’t the worst. Not by a long shot. No, that honor was reserved for the anniversary. That was the day that belonged to the cemetery, with its flowers and close-shorn grass and weeping willows. It was the day that belonged to death and pain and loss.

It was the day of the visit.

The cards were bad enough. Each one would hit him like a sledgehammer striking an anvil. The pain would be anticipated for the week leading up to the dates and would linger for at least a month following them.

But nothing could compare to the date of the anniversary. That was a day that tore his beating heart from his chest, ravaged it and then replaced it as if nothing had happened. Recovery from that day wasn’t even completely possible. Each one left him lower than the previous. And it had been thirteen years now. Maybe at some point there wouldn’t be any lower for him to sink. In a strange way, he looked forward to that moment.

So, at least it wasn’t that. The anniversary was coming up soon enough, but it wasn’t today. Today was the day of lesser pain. Still more than enough to send Joshua into a shame spiral. Still enough to make him want to numb all the pain. He scooped the card off of the dash, stuffing it into his back pocket. Not because he wanted it closer to him. More to keep him from seeing it.

You weren’t supposed to have favorites, but Livvie had been his youngest. She had still looked at him with un-disappointed eyes. Eyes that said he had still been her hero. Eyes that had still believed he could do anything.

In his mind, he envisioned her whole. The reality was far more graphic, far more painful. But that’s how she appeared in the imaginings of his soul.

He was parked on a side street out in Queens, everything he owned stuffed in the backseat. The remains of his fast food “dinner” lurked in the passenger seat, the grease from the slice of pepperoni pizza absorbing into a pinkish-orangey blob on the paper plate, the odor pervading the close confines of the 1997 Buick LeSabre.

Glancing up into the cracked rearview mirror, Joshua winced away from the man staring back at him. But not before he caught a glimpse of bloodshot hazel eyes and a closely cropped, balding head of dark hair that was starting to show some signs of salt. The hair led down to stubble on his cheeks that was just slightly shorter than the hair on his head and had even more flecks of gray. Full lips were the only thing that softened the severe angles and shadows of that face.

He hated his reflection. There was a reason the mirror was cracked.

Even though he was parked in the shade, the temperature in the car had to be approaching 100 degrees. Sweat dripped down his face, over his chest, under his arms. Any sane person would have abandoned the car for some spot where at least a hint of a breeze might eventually touch them. But not Joshua.

Physical relief was reserved for those who deserved it.

A burst of pain swelled up in his chest, reaching a crescendo. Trying to swallow past it did nothing—it wasn’t physical. He had to do something. It was five o’clock. The bar where he worked would allow him to begin taking advantage of their arrangement starting at seven. It would take him an hour to get into Chelsea if he managed to catch the E train at 5:15. Otherwise it would be the F at 5:29. Maybe he should just leave now.

The needle on the gas gauge hovered right below the E. No chance it would get him to Manhattan and back again. Besides, parking was a bitch.

He checked his punch card. Just enough to get him there and back. Then he’d have to buy another. Joshua hoped he had enough cash for that. Maybe he should risk spending some time rummaging around and under the seats of his car. Some change might have slipped out of his hand at some point. It was always possible.

Peeling himself up from the seat, he determined he would leave the search for the next day. Right now he needed the quiet oblivion that only the hardest of liquors could offer him, and the thought of missing out on even a drop had his hands shaking in fear.

It was fear, wasn’t it?

The deodorant was lying in the well of the driver’s side of the backseat. Joshua had to push aside a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans to get to it. He pulled off the lid, shoved the stick under his shirt and added a layer of odor protection to the slick sweat he found there. He sniffed, and then added another layer to the outside of his shirt, rubbing it under his arms and across his chest. It was time to sneak into a truck stop for another shower. Or maybe this time he’d just spend some time at a public pool. Another riveting question to be answered tomorrow. Sufficient unto the day are the evils thereof, right?

The LeSabre was locked up as best as he could. The rear passenger's-side door was broken, which was almost as effective as an actual lock. It worried him every night to leave his semi-mobile home, but what were his other options? Either it would be here when he came back or it wouldn’t. Either it would have been broken into or it wouldn’t.

Though it felt like he couldn’t sink any lower, Joshua knew that wasn’t true. Much as he hoped for a bottom, he understood that there was always a level that was farther down. At least that had been his experience to date.

He straightened his rumpled clothes, hoping the stares on the subway wouldn’t be too bad tonight. If he waited another hour, he’d bypass a lot of the rush hour crowd, but the thought of missing out on even one opportunity started him shaking again. He’d just have to deal with it.

Hey, it was what he did best.

* * *

Agent Sariah Cooper loved taking the train. Travel between DC and New York was one of those weird things. You could drive, but traffic was brutal. Flying seemed extravagant, and Sariah hated airports with a burning passion that bordered on psychosis.

But trains? Trains were perfection.

She sat in a section that was close to empty. It had started out much more full, but over the course of the last hour it had gradually thinned out, leaving Sariah on her own. A little strange, sure, but it suited her just fine.

Cooled and filtered air washed over her as she gazed out at the brown and shimmering landscape of one of the hottest summers on record on the East Coast. The soothing clackety-clack of the iron wheels on the rails was a constant background presence that spoke of a gentler time past. She’d spent a year abroad in Europe right after high school with the only real friend she’d had, Rachel, whose wealthy parents were trying to make up for past neglect with present extravagances. It hadn’t worked, but Sariah had been the happy beneficiary of the guilt of Rachel’s parents.

Swiping her hand across the screen of her tablet, Sariah stared at another crime scene photo, one of a severed hand. This one was from the last case up in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The case that had finally convinced her boss, Special-Agent-in-Charge Nicholas Tanner, that the Humpty Dumpty Killer was active again.

Sariah worked in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, or BAU, a part of the FBI’s National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime. The BAU used behavioral sciences to assist in criminal investigations throughout the US.

And just days ago, she’d been given the case of her life. The one that could make or break her career at the BAU. Humpty Dumpty.

A serial killer who had killed more than twenty men and women and then seemed to have disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing but pieces of the victims he’d killed, spread across the US. It was the stuff from which legends were born.

Problem was, when you went to resurrect a legend, people got cranky.

Working as a junior agent at the BAU, Sariah had been assigned to the most menial of tasks, one of which was to deal with all of the random body parts that turned up anywhere in the US. There were a surprising number, and each one ostensibly needed to be accounted for. In actual practice, there were as many cold cases when it came to body parts as there were with actual full-blown bodies, but there it was. That had been Sariah’s task for the last year and a half after coming out of Quantico.

That was also where she’d come across what she had started to think was Humpty Dumpty’s work. After 13 years of nothing from the prolific killer, several body parts matching Humpty’s MO began appearing. One could be dismissed. Two wouldn’t keep the scoffers from scoffing. But when she’d come across that hand up in Ann Arbor while working an unrelated case, Sariah not only became sure that Humpty Dumpty was active again, she was beginning to believe that he was taunting her.

And wonder of wonders, her boss had believed her.

Which made her much less popular with her fellow agents, most of whom thought she was bat-guano crazy, or worse, an ambitious climber. The fact that she hadn’t been popular to begin with was her own fault. She was smart, capable and not all that social. A lethal combination when it came to making friends.

A little boy, looking to be about five or six, groped his way up the aisle and happened to glance at the picture of the hand. He cocked his head as if he were trying to figure out what he was looking at, and then backed away, looking up into Sariah’s eyes. Turning around, without warning, he dashed away from her as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him, screaming bloody murder the entire length of the car.

Kids were annoying.

She swiped back to a previous file that was still open. An outdated picture of the man she was on her way to meet. The last address she had for former Agent Joshua Wright was one in Queens, but when she’d contacted the super, he’d told her that Joshua had moved out seven years ago. The only lead she had on the guy was his last place of employment. It seemed he worked at a dive bar in Chelsea. As a janitor.

How in the hell did that happen?

She’d read his file. Superb agent—worked on the Humpty Dumpty case thirteen years ago until the killer targeted his entire family. Took out his wife and three daughters before throwing them all in a wood chipper.

It was a horrific story, but it didn’t explain Wright’s fall from grace to Sariah’s complete satisfaction. A year or two, or even five or six, of going through the wringer and flat lining, she could understand. But the fact that it had been thirteen years and the guy was working cleaning up toilets in a crappy bar in Manhattan? It just didn’t track.

Her stream of thought was interrupted by an official presence at her elbow. A uniformed conductor cleared his throat.

“Excuse me.”

Sariah looked up. “Yes?”

The conductor looked to be in his mid-to-late 50s, with silver hair that had receded back from a high forehead. It was clear he was uncomfortable.

“I… ah, that is… we’ve had some complaints from some of the other passengers.” He gestured to Sariah’s tablet. “Something about you viewing material that was… er… inappropriate?”

And just like that, the empty car took on a new meaning. They had all vacated due to her, or at least due to her choice of study materials.

“I’m sorry. I’m going over case files for an investigation I’m heading. I didn’t mean to disturb anyone.”

“You’re heading an investigation?” the man asked. He seemed to be trying to keep disbelief out of his voice. He was not succeeding.

So many different reasons why he could be having a problem believing she was in charge. So many reasons Sariah could find to be offended. She was young, she was black, she was a woman. Or maybe there was just something about her that didn’t inspire confidence. Wasn’t like this was the first time she’d gotten this reaction. But with so many possibilities, it was hard to latch onto only one. So instead, she smiled.

“Yes. Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no… I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sariah reassured the man. “And I’ll make sure I keep the more disturbing pictures off my screen for now. I apologize for any trouble.”

“Thank you, Miss,” the conductor murmured as he moved off, down the aisle.

Sariah waited until he had left the car, and then opened the file back up. She’d be more careful from here on out, but right now there was no need. There was no one here, so there was no one to offend.

And she had work to do.

* * *

The suitcase was full to overflowing, and Officer Had Hadderly was trying to decide if it made more sense to jump up and down on it until he could close it, or to just grab two smaller bags. He was enough of a guy’s guy that taking two suitcases went against his grain, but it was his first trip to a big city. Cramming his clothes into the one bag was going to make everything come out wrinkled.

Who was he kidding? This was a no-brainer. Had trotted over to his closet and pulled out a duffel bag and a small rolling carry-on. This was his first time to Washington DC. Hell, it was pretty much his first time out of Ann Arbor, unless you counted that time he went to Detroit as a kid, or the aborted trip up to Niagara Falls with that one girl. What was her name? Marion? No, Madeline. Man she had been hot. Crazy as all nine hells, but hot. Too bad she had been allergic to cats.

Well, now that he had two bags instead of just the one, he could afford to pack a couple more shirts. Oh, and that pair of raw denim jeans he had just shrunk to fit. First time doing that, and the results had been awesome. Had had felt like such a hipster when he wore them out for the first time. You know, until he realized he was in Ann Arbor, and there were no hipsters anywhere to be found.

Five more minutes of last-second additions, and Had realized he was going to have to transfer everything in the carry-on back into the bigger suitcase. The big case and the duffel bag weren’t too much, were they? He just had no frame of reference here.

His cell phone rang. It was the theme to Psycho. His mama.

“Had, sweetie. Just checking to see if you wanted brisket or my pulled pork for dinner tomorrow night. I haven’t used my smoker in almost a week, and it’s getting a little lonely.”

Had sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Mama, you know I’m not going to be here for dinner tomorrow.”

“What? Oh, that thing with the FBI? You still tryin’ to pretend it’s happenin’?” Lynda Hadderly had grown up in the South, and even after living in Michigan most of Had’s life, a pleasant Mississippi drawl dominated her speech.

“Come on, Mama. I told you, the BAU called me out to help. They arranged it with my boss and everything.”

His mother chuckled in her throat. “Baby, I know you’ve wanted to be an agent since you were tiny, but don’t you think this is takin’ the whole thing a bit far?”

Had placed two folded shirts next to each other on the bed. Which one would go with him? Gotta be the embroidered one. Never knew when you were going to have to hit a dance club. In the line of duty, of course. He placed it in his duffel bag, trying not to rise to his mother’s bait.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to just wait and see when I don’t show up to your house tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say, marshmallow,” his mama said, not paying any attention to him whatsoever. “I think I’m gonna get the brisket. That always was your favorite.” Her hanging up the phone acted as punctuation on the end of the statement of her doubt. He couldn’t blame her. It’s not like he’d been the most honest of kids, growing up.

It had only been two weeks ago that Had had gotten the most exciting news of his life. He’d been in the middle of what he’d thought was the coolest experience of his life, the Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary serial killer case.

It had been a bad enough case that they’d asked for the BAU to come out and get involved, and that was where Had had run into Agent Sariah Cooper. Coop. The Amazonian FBI agent of his dreams. Well, she would have been, if she were at all interested in him. Which she was not. At all.

Dammit.

At least now he wouldn’t have to ask for her stance on Latin dancing.

Regardless, the connection had been immediate, and when Coop had realized that one of the body parts they’d found belonged to the Humpty Dumpty case, she’d asked for his help on it. Had was still reeling from that conversation, four days after it had happened. He was going to DC. Well, to Quantico, Virginia, to be precise. The FBI Academy, where the Behavioral Analysis Unit was housed, to be even more specific. He was going to be working with the FBI.

Okay, so it was due to the fact that no one else would touch the case with a ten-foot pole, but that didn’t matter to Had. He didn’t have to worry about his “career” with the BAU. He was just thrilled he was getting to work with them.

He was glad there hadn’t been anyone around to witness his subsequent happy dance. He’d been floating on a cloud since that conversation had happened.

The real shock had been when his boss had given the okay. Had wasn’t being arrogant by saying that he was the best officer that Ann Arbor had on the force. The competition wasn’t all that fierce, to be honest about it. Had was pretty sure that one of the guys could be a poster child for the dangers of inbreeding.

But the chance to get out and see a little bit of the country and work on one of the coolest serial killer cases in the last twenty years? It was too much. The Humpty Dumpty murders had gone into the realm of urban legend. When Coop had mentioned the famous killer the first time, Had’s initial thought had been that she was just playing a prank on the local rube cop. Just talking about it with her had been a thrill.

And now he was going to be working the case. He stopped folding another shirt long enough to break into his happy dance again. Hey, he was at home. He was alone. There was no one here to keep him from busting out “The Sprinkler.”

Psycho rang out again. His mama.

“Wanted to let you know. I invited that girl from the pharmacy over.” Had’s mother had to pick up her prescription every other week, and she couldn’t help but get chatty with everyone there.

“Hold on. Are you talking about the one with the walleye?” he asked, horrified.

“No, no, turtle. It’s the new girl I was telling you about. The one with the red hair and the freckles. And she made perfect change without even checking.”

Under normal circumstances, that would have been more than intriguing. Had loved redheads, and the math angle was a definite plus. Enough to almost make a difference. But this was anything but a normal circumstance.

“It’s going to be really awkward for you when she shows up and I don’t.”

“Honey, please. There’s no way the FBI have you working on a case. You’ve got a record.”

She wasn’t lying. Had had always been a bit of a hellion. At 16 years old, he and a buddy had stolen old Mr. Johnston’s truck and taken it out to Ford Lake with two girls from their chemistry class, hoping to make some chemistry of their own. It hadn’t ended so well.

“Yeah, but that was years ago, and…” He stopped himself. There was no way she was going to believe him. Hell, he didn’t believe it himself. “Mama, I love you but I have to finish packing.” He hit the END button on his cell, tossed the phone on the bed and glanced down at his flight itinerary, which was sitting next to his bags.

The flight left out of Detroit at 6 am, which meant that Had would have to leave Ann Arbor by 3:30 or 4 if he wanted to have enough time to get through security. It was going to be an early morning. No problem. Early summer mornings in Michigan were glorious. Almost enough to make him start jogging. Almost.

Psycho.

Picking up the phone and answering in one motion, he held the cell up to his ear. “Hope you have enough Tupperware to hold all the leftovers. I’ll call you when my flight gets in.” Flipping the switch to vibrate, Had stuck the phone in his pocket. No more distractions for the night. If his mother got desperate, she’d text him, much as she pretended she didn’t know how.

He’d now spent three hours packing and unpacking and packing again, and it was getting on toward midnight. Maybe he should just stay up all night. He could always catch up on some of his sleep on the plane tomorrow. In fact, he was looking forward to it. For now? Catch up on Dr. Who. That would be perfect.

No. Nope. He was going to go back over some of the information on the case that Agent Cooper had sent him. Coop had placed a lot of trust in him, and he wasn’t about to let her down. Yes, he had been through the material fifteen times since she’d emailed it to him. But two or three more times through the file wouldn’t kill him.

Well, after he finished packing, of course. Okay, maybe three bags wasn’t such a bad idea. That way he could take his leather jacket, too. Sure, it was summer, but you never knew when you might have to pull out the leather.

Had grinned and went to find another suitcase.

CHAPTER 2

Manhattan stank.

This wasn’t Agent Sariah Cooper’s judgment call on the most densely populated island in the United States. It was a statement of pure fact.

During late summer, Manhattan’s heady bouquet was a lethal combination of putrid garbage, urine and ethnic food. The only variances from area to area were the types of spices that laced their way in and amongst the other, more prevalent scents. Here, it was mostly from the Chinese restaurant next door.

Doing what she could to keep from inhaling, Sariah weaved her way through the narrow courtyard space that snaked behind the Billymark’s West, a rundown bar that spoke to older women looking to pick up younger men in order to cling to a vestige of lost youth. It also was the place of employment for the man Sariah was seeking.

Sariah caught sight of herself in an oil-coated puddle positioned underneath one of the lights placed behind the businesses that faced out onto 9th Avenue. A mocha face with sharp angles and full lips, framed by short, almost buzzed hair looked back at her. If only her lack of friends at the BAU could be attributed to race. But she’d gone down that rabbit hole before and didn’t have any desire to return.

According to the taciturn bartender, former agent Joshua Wright was out back, waiting for the bar to close. It closed at 4 am. That meant that Joshua would be waiting for a good six hours yet. His job as a janitor was mostly an after-hours kind of deal, although it seemed he hung out most of the night, waiting for any major spills or issues to come up in the bar.

Once the bartender had realized that Sariah wasn’t there for him, he had become a little more willing to talk. Enough to explain to her that Joshua’s arrangement was that he only got paid cash for the official work he did after the bar closed. For every time he was needed before that, the former BAU wunderkind got a shot of the bottom-shelf stuff. He was only here in the hope that accidents would happen. And in a sketchy bar like this one, that could be several times every hour.

Catching sight of a man slumped in a chair that was leaning against the opposite wall, Sariah took a deep breath. She knew the man’s reputation. She’d read his file. And here he was, head lolling against his shoulder, with what looked like drool dripping down his cheek.

As she neared the former agent, an overpowering scent of alcohol wafted up to assault her nostrils. It was only ten, and from all indicators, Joshua Wright was drunk as a skunk. This meeting was not going to go well.

Sariah cleared her throat. No response.

She did it again, louder. Still nothing.

Reaching out with her foot, Sariah nudged Joshua’s leg. He twitched, lurched, and fell off of his chair, landing with his face in the dirt and his butt pointed toward the sky. Sariah waited, thinking that this, at last, would rouse the inebriated former agent. But he remained in his position on the ground.

This was going to take some serious doing.

* * *

Joshua coughed out water, rivulets running down his face and into his eyes. Wiping the moisture away, he realized that he was sprawled out on the pavement with his face in a puddle of water. He was also soaking wet and freezing.

Wait. Wasn’t it the middle of summer?

Choking and sputtering, he pushed himself up to his hands and knees. There was a pair of black, sensible flats in front of his eyes, attached to a pair of tailored slacks. He followed the legs up to their owner, a stunning black woman with an Afro trimmed tight against her head, accentuating the sharp angles of her cheeks and her large, wide-set eyes. She was holding an empty pitcher.

“What the hell?”

The woman crouched down beside him. “Yes, I think that’s a really good question. What. The. Hell. You used to be one of the most brilliant agents with the BAU. Now you’re lying in the dirt behind one of the nastiest bars I’ve ever seen, drunk off your ass.”

Joshua pushed back from the lady. Her voice was very loud. Like, penetrate-to-the-deepest-recesses-of-his-brain loud. An unpleasant taste was in his mouth. Sour milk crossed with kimchi. What had he eaten? Wait. Had he actually eaten? Joshua couldn’t remember for sure. Whatever. There was a more pressing question at hand.

“Did you just pour a pitcher of ice water on my head?”

The woman leaned back on her heels, her face pressing itself into a new shape. Embarrassment? Chagrin? Maybe just a slight sense of regret? Whatever it was, it didn’t look like an expression she was used to wearing.

“I’m sorry. You were passed out, and I have to talk to you. I…” She passed a hand across her face and chuckled. “I guess I don’t do introductions all that well.”

“The hell you say,” Joshua grunted, lifting himself off the ground and slumping into his chair once more, after missing the seat the first time around. “I think you’re perfectly charming. It’s a hot night, and I’m now feeling quite refreshed. Thank you.” He worked to keep his speech from slurring. After years of practice, it wasn’t that hard. In spite of his throbbing head, Joshua cocked his head and gave her his best glower.

“Humpty Dumpty’s back,” the figure above him said.

Joshua froze for a moment, his stomach clenching up. He then forced himself to uncurl his body, pushing back to lean his chair up against the wall. It took him a few tries, but he finally got it right. Maybe it hadn’t been too obvious.

“How lucky for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, how lucky for you.” He spoke with care, emphasizing each word. “You’re a new”—Joshua looked her up and down—“well, newish agent, and they’re giving you your first big case. Good job. You must have impressed someone. Or pissed them off.”

The woman glanced away from him, her expression nonplussed. Joshua got that look a lot. She glanced back.

“How did you—”

“Know that you were new?” Joshua cut her off. “Please. It’s written all over you. Payless flats that don’t look like they’re falling apart yet. A shitty suit that’s supposed to look like it’s businesslike and elegant, but only manages to scream cheap. You can’t afford the expensive stuff, but you haven’t worn out your first set of clothes.” In spite of the cotton in his mouth and the pounding in his head, he could tell he was getting to her. He tilted his head to watch her expression, waiting for her reply.

To his surprise, the agent reigned in whatever response it looked like she had been about to give. Instead, she sighed and sat down in the dirt in front of him. Joshua’s level of respect for her went up by a tiny notch.

“Yeah, that’s got me pegged,” she admitted. “They said you were one of the best. Guess they weren’t lying.”

Joshua stifled a groan before he could waste the effort on it. Perfect. She was one of those. The burgeoning respect he had started to feel for this woman flatlined. He hadn’t had any in almost a decade, but the groupies had always been the worst part of going into “retirement.”

“Listen, darlin’,” Joshua drawled. “I’m flattered. Really. But first off, I don’t handle hero worship all that well, and B, you’re not my type.”

The woman lifted an eyebrow at him. Her lip twitched. Either he’d really gotten to her, or she was about to laugh. Joshua couldn’t tell for sure one way or the other. Maybe because she kept going in and out of focus. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Trust me, you’re not my type either.”

“No? Please.” He pointed down to himself, “I’m twice your age, and you’ve got daddy issues painted all over you.”

Her jaw muscle rippled. “I’m not looking for affection from you.”

Joshua straightened up as much as he could, peering with more intent at the agent in front of him. “No, you’re not, are you? Approval, maybe? There’s something there.”

The mocha-skinned beauty pushed herself back up from the ground, brushing off her pants. “Can we be done with the whole feeling-each-other-out, tit-for-tat part of this conversation? Tracking you down hasn’t been the easiest task in my career so far.”

“Please,” Joshua shot back. “Finding me shouldn’t have taken you more than five minutes. At least if you were any good.” He glanced up at her, now that she was standing, watching her jaw clench again, locking up whatever was trying to push its way out. “Oh, hey… what’s the matter? Find out that Daddy’s disappointed in your job performance?”

There was a long moment in which he could see the tension leaching out of her body. Whatever she had wanted to say, it wasn’t what ended up coming out. This one knew how to keep her temper in check. At least when she wanted something. And that was the big question mark right now, wasn’t it? What exactly did she want?

“I’m sorry,” the woman finally managed. “I’m Agent Sariah Cooper. You can call me Coop.” She extended her hand for him to shake.

Joshua just looked at the hand, then back up at her, then back down to the hand. “What do you want from me, Agent Cooper? You didn’t come slumming for nothing.”

The FBI agent held her hand there for an uncomfortable several seconds before dropping it. “I want you to come with me,” she finally answered. “We need your help.”

And there it was. Now that it had come, the moment of revelation was almost anticlimactic. Joshua looked away, trailing his hand along the brick wall of the back of the bar.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

“But Agent Wright—”

He cut her off, his voice a blade cutting through the tension. “I am not Agent Wright. Remember that.” He watched as she winced away from him. Ah. That’s what it was. And here was Joshua, more than ready to step into the abuser role for her. Fantastic. His tone softened a bit. “I’m Joshua. Just Joshua.”

She pulled her shoulders back, shook her head and continued. “Joshua, you know more about Humpty than anyone else alive right now.”

He snorted. “You have no idea how not-young that makes me feel, Agent Cooper. But no, I don’t think I want to help.”

“What? Too busy here? Too tied down with your important job mopping up piss and vomit?” The agent—what was her nickname?—seemed to be putting as much scorn into her voice as she possibly could. What she couldn’t know was just how inured to shame he’d become. She was competing with a crusty old man with a razor blade for a tongue and a cesspool for a mind. This woman didn’t even come close.

“This isn’t a job, honey. It’s a Band-Aid. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m bleeding out from an arterial wound.” Joshua shrugged. “Besides, they let me drink on the job. That’s not ever going to happen back in DC.”

Coop… that was her name… nodded. “Yeah. They sent me with one of these.” She pulled what looked like an ankle bracelet out of her pocket and held it up. “Blood alcohol monitor. To keep you on the wagon.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me.”

“You think I don’t know that?” the agent shot back. “My guess? You can’t function without booze.” She stared at him, her eyes calculating. “What, you’ve had six, seven drinks at this point?”

Joshua ticked them off on his fingers. “Nine. Impressed?”

She grunted. “Something like that. Wouldn’t take more than a few hours for you to start shaking and sweating. Am I in the ballpark?”

“Not sure why we’re still talking. I’m not going anywhere I can’t drink.”

Coop lifted up the right leg of her slacks, exposing a well-toned calf. She might not be Joshua’s type, but man was she beautiful. Opening up the blood alcohol monitor, the agent placed it around her own ankle and snapped it shut with a loud click that reverberated off the walls of the close space.

“I wear the bracelet,” she said, holding his gaze. “You stay in control of your fine motor skills and keep the spiders from dancing around in your peripheral vision.”

Joshua shook his head. “Man. He must have had it bad.”

“Who?”

“Your daddy.”

Agent Cooper looked like she was about to say something when her cell phone rang. Standard factory-setting ringtone. So predictable. So by the book.

So boring.

She glanced at the incoming number, then up at Joshua, her expression concerned. “I have to take this. Hold on a second?”

“Sure thing. I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, waving his hands around in a vague gesture that included the bar.

Joshua waited until Agent Cooper walked away and turned around before making his way to the back entrance to the bar. He wasn’t sticking around for the hard sell that was coming on the tail end of that call.

Before stepping through the door, Joshua glanced back at the agent, realizing it was the first time in almost a decade that he had talked to someone who had sought him out. Adult conversation that didn’t include an order to clean up alcohol or bodily fluids. There was a sense of belonging in that. Enough to almost make him change his mind and stay put.

But then he thought of Humpty Dumpty and spun back around so fast it came close to giving him whiplash. There was no way he was going back to that case.

Not a chance in hell.

* * *

The call had been from Had… Officer Had Hadderly, the newest member of her crack team of specialists working on the Humpty Dumpty case. The crack team that currently included only Had and herself. She had answered the call more than a little panicked, thinking that there was an emergency that would keep him from boarding the plane tomorrow.

Instead, Had was just checking through his wardrobe with her.

“And I know DC’s a big city, but should I bring my cowboy boots anyway? Maybe it could be sort of a self-aware ironic statement or something. They’re pretty cool boots.” Had's tone was excited, almost frenetic. Sariah’s irritation with him for the bad timing of the call dissipated.

“Use your best judgment, Had,” she responded, keeping the sigh that wanted to spill out of her locked up tight. She started to disconnect the call, then added, “But I love cowboy boots.” Punching the end button, Sariah turned on her heel to deal once more with Joshua Wright.

He was nowhere to be found.

Sariah started to swear, beginning with the more benign ones and working her way up to the Australian level. It wasn’t long before it was all just one long stream of obscenities pouring out of her mouth. This was bad.

Sariah knew what investigating this case had cost the former agent. She might not know all of the details, but she had learned enough to understand why it was that Joshua wanted nothing to do with this.

So maybe that’s why she wasn’t chasing him down right at this very second. Why she wasn’t trying to track him back to wherever he was living, the mystical apartment that Sariah had been unable to track down, no matter how many avenues she’d tried. Well, that and the fact that the guy had a head start on her in a city that she didn’t know and he did.

They needed Joshua’s help. There was no one out there who knew this case better. With that said, the whole thing was just so heartbreaking. A part of Sariah wanted to just leave well enough alone. Granted, it was a very small part.

Maybe she could strong-arm the bartender into coughing up Joshua’s current address. They had to have something on file for him.

After that, she had to figure out what the hell she was going to do next. She was supposed to be headed back to DC tomorrow morning to meet with Had, but getting Joshua to help was important enough that if she couldn’t find him fast, she would need to spend another day or two here. It was worth it.

She sighed and started moving toward the back entrance to the bar. Looking at the situation with honesty, Sariah knew that even once she found him again, getting Joshua to help out was more than just a tough challenge. It might be the most difficult thing she’d attempted in her career to date.

Squeezing herself up past the pool table in the back, Sariah headed up toward the long bar against the wall on her left. The jukebox was blaring “Brown Sugar” by the Stones loud enough to hurt her ears.

The bartender was chatting with two women who looked to be in their late 30s but who were trying to pretend that they were nearer to 20. She rapped on the bar to get the man’s attention, with no noticeable effect. Waving her hand finally seemed to get his attention.

“Looks like you found the bastard. Went wobbling out of here like a drunk bat out of hell,” the tatted man growled over the music. “So my question is, who’s gonna clean up after my customers? You?”

The question appeared to be rhetorical, and Sariah didn’t have the patience for idle chitchat. “I need an address for him.”

The bartender shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. He usually gets paid out in cash. The only contact info I’ve got for the guy is a PO Box.”

“Get it for me? Or do I need to posture and threaten first? You know… 'I can get a warrant. I’ll shut you down.' That kind of stuff.” Sariah kept her tone light enough that it could be taken as a joke, while the implied threat settled in.

“Whatever. Just don’t tell anyone I gave it to you.” He fished behind him in a drawer and pulled out a little black book. Grabbing a pen from the same place, he started to write the address down on a napkin, but the pen was out of ink. “Got something I can write with?” he yelled over at the two ladies he’d been talking to.

“Whatcha gonna give me for it, huh, Danny?” the one with bright red hair that looked like it came straight out of a bottle simpered. She was doing everything she could to push her breasts together with her arms, turning what couldn’t be more than C-cups into double Ds. She pouted her candy-apple painted lips at him, holding the pen just out of reach.

“I’ll tell you exactly what I’ll give you, Gabby. I won’t tell your husband you’re down here flirting with the bartender,” Danny replied. The redhead somehow managed to deepen her pout while handing the pen over to the bartender. He grinned and touched the pen to an imaginary hat.

Scribbling the address down on the bar napkin, Danny handed it over to Sariah. “Hey, Joshua’s a mess, but he’s a good guy. Whatever he’s done, go easy on him, okay?”

The bartender’s words echoed in Sariah’s ears. There were a lot of things she was trying to do.

Going easy on Joshua unfortunately wasn’t one of them.

This night was turning out to be awesome. All she wanted to do right now was order a stiff drink. She contemplated it for a moment before realizing that she couldn’t. The blood-alcohol monitor was still strapped to her leg, and would be for at least another 48 hours. Sariah groaned. She could use that drink.

She had a feeling that before this night was through, she was going to need one.

* * *

It was close to midnight by the time Joshua stumbled around the corner of the street that led to his car. It might not be much, but right now the puke-brown sedan called to him with all of the charms of a bed with a feather tick. He was so tired.

As he rounded the turn, he saw two Latinos, one hunched over the LeSabre, the other leaning against its side. They both sported shaved heads and wife-beaters, with tattoos covering most of their exposed skin. The hunched one was at the driver’s side door with a Slim Jim sawing up and down against the window. The other seemed to be on lookout.

“Hey!” Joshua yelled. “That’s my car!”

The watcher started, jumping up from his lounging perch against the car. He looked ready to bolt, but then appeared to take a closer look at Joshua. He nudged his partner and pointed at the former FBI agent.

“Manuel. Check it out. Vato wants his car.”

Manuel, the guy with the lock pick, straightened up, taking his time, then turned around and watched as Joshua ran closer to his car. His car, nothing. It was his home.

“You want your car, ese?” He smiled the smile of a shark as he pulled a knife out of his back pocket, whipping it open with a practiced flourish. “I think it must be another one, no? ‘Cause this is our car, pendejo.”

This didn’t feel like it was going to end well, but Joshua couldn’t bring himself to just walk away. His entire life was stuffed into that car, and he wasn’t about to let it go without a fight.

Even if he was still drunk.

He spread his arms out. “C’mon, guys. That car’s all I got. Everything I own’s in there.”

The thug’s smile stretched even farther across his face, like it was trying to cut his head in two. “No, no, maricón. That mierda’s mine. Comprendes? Mine.”

His partner had slipped around to Joshua’s side, clearly thinking that all of their victim’s attention was riveted on the guy with the knife. As the sidekick sidled in closer, Joshua leapt across the space separating them, landing on the man’s instep with all of his weight, causing him to howl in pain. At the same time, he swung his elbow around at the car thief’s face, clocking him with all of the momentum of the jump forward. His opponent collapsed to the ground, swearing a blue streak in rapid Spanish.

But alcohol had dulled both Joshua’s senses and his reaction time. A hot, searing slash of pain carved its way across his exposed left side as Manuel, the guy with the knife, darted in to help his friend. Joshua danced back, adrenaline and alcohol fighting in his body for dominance. The hand that he had pressed to his side came away wet and sticky. He stumbled and fell to one knee.

Manuel lashed out with one of his heavy work boots, catching Joshua in the head. His eyesight exploded into flashing points of light. He dimly felt his face make contact with the asphalt, every nerve ending in his skull ablaze.

A face leaned in close to his. The smell of stale cigarettes wafted into Joshua’s nostrils as Manuel breathed on him.

“You should have walked away, cabrón. I told you. That car is mine.”

“Please,” Joshua managed to croak.

Another stomp, and he felt the impact on the right side of his chest. The pain was distant now, his vision tunneling in on him.

“Hey, gringo. What is it with you?” the voice droned on in his ear, the Mexican accent giving an almost pleasant lilt to the speech. “You can see you’re beat, but you fight anyways. Estás loco?”

Estás loco? Are you crazy? Joshua felt something bubbling up inside of him. Something that tugged at his broken rib, making him wince. But it didn’t go away. It grew stronger and stronger, bursting out of him in waves that brought nothing but pain.

He was laughing.

“Puta madre,” Manuel muttered, backing away and grabbing his friend by the shoulder. “Vámonos. Ese gringo está chingada.”

Estás loco? Are you crazy? The words played over and over in his head while he lay in the street, giggling.

Yes, he thought to himself. Yes, I am.

CHAPTER 3

As putrid as Manhattan was, it didn’t take long for Sariah to discover that she liked Queens far less. At least Manhattan had some charm to it. But this neighborhood was just row after row of sardine-packed apartment buildings.

Sariah had booked a hotel room in Queens after tracking down the PO Box she’d been given to a tiny business crammed in on the lower level of an apartment complex. Boxes Etc. It was closed, but she idled and double-parked in her rental car, watching the door to see if maybe someone was there working the night shift. She might get lucky.

But it was late. Close to eleven. She knew she was grasping at straws, but wasn’t sure what else to do. Cruising down the streets in a grid-like pattern, Sariah kept moving until she gave up around an hour later.

Pulling into the parking lot behind the Clarion Hotel, Sariah checked the schedule for the train back down to DC. Even without Joshua, she should go back on time. They had to get started, or new victims would start piling up before they could even begin.

Maybe she would even manage to get some sleep in. She wanted to be able to hit the ground running once she got back to Washington and met up with Had, and right now she was pretty wiped out. The combination of the oppressive heat, the stress of finding Joshua and then the subsequent emotional argument had left her feeling like she’d been flattened out by a steamroller.

She heaved a sigh. This entire trip had been such a colossal waste of time and energy. Her boss had warned her that convincing Joshua to rejoin the team might not be easy. That had turned out to be the understatement of the year.

He had walked away. And Sariah had let him go. Sort of. Yeah, she had tried to track him down afterward, but her efforts had been less than inspired, and she knew it. This was her first major case, and already she was blowing it.

There was a part of her that wanted to call Agent Tanner up and throw in the towel. To say that the whole thing had been a mistake, and maybe he should find another agent to put on the case.

But again, it was only a part. There was another, much larger, and much more arrogant portion of Sariah that was almost glad that former agent Wright would not be joining them. He was the one with all of the expertise concerning this killer. Sariah wanted to be in charge.

Man, she was a piece of work.

Walking through the lobby, Sariah nodded at the night attendant behind the desk. He nodded in return, seemed about to speak, but then must have thought better of it. Maybe attendants in New York hotels learned better than to start up idle chitchat with their patrons. New Yorkers weren’t known for their warm fuzzies.

The elevator deposited her on the third floor, and she pulled out her key card as she moved down the hall toward her room. As she approached, she noticed a crumpled form on the ground.

It was Joshua.

“Hey there,” he grimaced up at her, his mouth swollen and lopsided. “Miss me?” Bruising covered half of the side of his face, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Blood had seeped through his shirt along the left side of his body. The strange thing was, he was holding his right side, wincing a little every time he drew breath.

“What…?” she asked, waving at his state.

“Got mugged.” At Sariah’s reaction, he looked like he started to give a shrug and then thought better of it. “It’s New York. It happens.”

“But how did you—?”

“Find you?” the former agent cut her off. “I told you. If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

She resisted the sudden impulse to kick him. “Fine. Don’t tell me the how. Be an asshole. But what about the why?”

It was a long moment before he responded. “They didn’t just jump me. It was grand theft auto, as well.”

“Yeah, okay. Fine,” Sariah replied. “But you made your way here. Why didn’t you just go home? You made it more than clear you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

A longer pause. Long enough that she started wondering if maybe Joshua had passed out on her. Finally, he sighed, grimacing as he held his right side.

“Maybe grand theft domicile would be a better explanation of what happened.”

Grand theft…? It took a second, but finally the light began to dawn on Sariah. “You were living in your car.” Now all of the fruitless searching for his place of residence started to make sense. “But I checked car registrations, too. Nothing popped. I just figured it was New York, and you didn’t have one.”

“Registered it under an alias… a legal one, though, so you would’ve found it if you’d looked closer. Sloppy.”

By now, Sariah had realized that the former agent was trying to get a rise out of her, so she ignored his comment. Besides, he was right. She had been conducting the search as she would for any normal citizen, not someone who wanted to hide. If she’d thought of him as a criminal, she might have found him much sooner. She glanced down at him, taking in once more just how messed up he was.

“We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No!” he fired back, gasping as he sat up. “No hospitals.”

She stiffened, thinking for a moment that it was due to his family that had been killed. But they had been put through a wood chipper. There would have been no hospitals involved.

“Why? You’re bleeding, and it looks like you might have a bruised or broken rib. The swelling on the side of your face is bad enough that you could have a concussion, and you overall just look like shit. Come on. At least to get some pain meds.”

“Alcohol’s my drug of choice,” Joshua muttered back. “And hospitals are germ-infested death traps.”

Oh. He was one of those. “How very nineteenth century of you. You do know they sanitize everything, right?”

“Um, super bacteria? Flesh-eating viruses? No. Thank you.” He groaned as he pushed himself up from the ground, using his left arm. “I just need to clean myself up and I’ll get out of your hair.” He glanced at her head. “What there is of it.”

“You should talk,” Sariah replied. Much as she thought he should be in an emergency room right now, she figured she could at least take a look. If it was too bad, she’d insist. He wasn’t in much of a place to put up a lot of resistance.

Keying open the lock, she pushed the door open and gestured for Joshua to precede her. He shuffled his way past her, and she thumbed the light on as she entered behind him. The former agent took an immediate right into the bathroom to the side, stripping off his shirt as he moved. For someone who seemed bent on self-destruction, Joshua was in pretty good shape. Sariah wondered how much of his total calorie intake was just from the liquor.

The knife wound had looked worse with the shirt on, capturing all of the bleeding. With the garment removed, it looked like it was pretty shallow. The bigger issues were the possible concussion and broken rib.

“All right,” she said. “Let me take a look at your eyes and your rib first, then we’ll wash out that cut. Did you lose consciousness?”

Joshua shook his head, positioning himself below the bathroom light. Sariah looked into his eyes, which were a dark hazel with flecks of lighter green in them. They seemed to be equal and reactive.

“What about nausea? Headache? Loss of memory?” She went through the checklist, realizing that most of the symptoms would be indistinguishable from his drunkenness.

“No. Nothing. The pain in my head is all on the outside. I think I’m fine.”

“All right. Let’s take a look at your chest.” She placed her fingers along the rib were she saw a growing bruise. There was no movement of the bone, and he only pulled back when she touched the actual point of impact. Probably just cracked or bruised. Looked like they could avoid that trip to the ER.

Grabbing a washcloth and wetting it down, Sariah began to probe the wound on the other side. Joshua winced a bit as she cleaned it off, but made no other indication that she was doing anything that might be causing him any pain.

“Well, it would probably be good to have someone take a look at this,” she told him, “but it’s pretty shallow. I think we can just wash it out. I don’t have any Neosporin or iodine or anything, though.”

Grunting, Joshua moved over to the minibar. He opened it up and grabbed out a little miniature bottle of vodka, twisting the top off in one motion that made him grimace.

“Voilà. Alcohol. Cures all ills.”

* * *

Everything hurt.

There wasn’t a position Joshua could take that made it feel any better. His left side burned from the knife wound. His right side gave him a twinge every time he took a breath, although the pain was pretty localized. He didn’t think it was broken. His entire head felt like someone had trapped it in a C-clamp and started to tighten it.

He was messed up pretty bad.

Agent Cooper was still nosing around his wound, cleaning it out, making sure it was all ready for its vodka bath. Good thing he still felt a little drunk. This next part wasn’t going to be pleasant. He waited for the signal that she was ready to start the antiseptic process.

Without any warning, his side lit up like a bonfire. She had doused his entire wound in the vodka. No 'are you ready?' No 'here we go.' Nothing.

“Son of a bitch!” he swore.

“Well, nice to know you still have a pain response. I was starting to worry that you were a member of the walking dead.”

“So, a heads up was out of the question there?”

“Please,” the agent said. “This was the best way to go, and you know it. If I’d given you time to prepare, you would’ve tensed up and made it worse.”

Much as he wanted to disagree on principle, she was right. He grunted and grabbed his shirt off of the bathroom counter where he’d put it.

“Thanks for cleaning me up,” he mumbled while pulling his shirt on over his head, doing what he could to put some sincerity in his tone. He might not love the fact that she had come looking for him, but that was hardly her fault. And she had helped him out when he needed it.

“Wait. You’re leaving?”

“Uh, yeah.” He stopped and looked her over from head to toe and back up again. “Were you expecting something else? You’re not my type, but I could make an exception, I guess. I’m pretty beat up, though. You’ll have to be on top.” The words tasted like bile on his tongue as he spoke them, the pit in his gut yawning wide to swallow him up.

Agent Cooper stiffened, but then took a long moment to respond. “You can be an asshole all you want, Joshua, but it doesn’t change anything.”

“What do you mean?”

Looking as if she were groping for the words to use, she spoke in fits and starts. “I don’t want to judge you. I haven’t been through anything close to what you have. But you’re here.”

“No, I’m not. Not for long, anyway. I get my shirt on, that’s it. I’m out.”

“No, I don’t mean here,” the agent clarified. “I mean alive. Still breathing. Sure, you’re a mess, but anyone would be in your position.”

“My position? My position?” The pit yawned even wider, and Joshua poured all his vitriol into it. “Oh, you mean my family going through a wood chipper? That position?”

“I’m sorry. I—”

“You’re an idiot,” Joshua sneered at her, feeding the growth of the chasm inside of him. “A moron. There’s no way you can go up against Humpty. He’ll eat you alive.”

“I know,” she fired back. “That’s why I need your help. You think I like the smell of alcohol and the verbal abuse? Had enough of that in my life, thank-you-very-much.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Um. Again. I just said that. Making my point for me here.”

“No,” Joshua spit out. “I meant that you have no idea what kind of hell you’re unleashing. You’re not just risking yourself, you arrogant bitch.”

“Okay, so tell me. What’s so bad? What is it that I don’t know?”

“He’ll take it all. Everyone and everything that’s important to you. Your career, your friends, your family. He’ll come after your life.” He cut himself off, his voice ragged and unsteady.

But Agent Cooper was nodding. “I have nothing. My career’s a joke. No friends or family left. And I’m pretty sure I don’t have much of a life.” She smiled, but it looked more like a wince. “I’m the perfect fodder for this guy. And you know what?” Her eyes bored into his. “So are you.”

Joshua felt something crumple inside of him. All of the acid washed away and left him empty, scoured out, hollow. There was nothing left but a dull ache.

He slumped down onto the corner of the bed, his side giving him a twinge in protest. “You’re right,” he admitted. “But I can’t do what you’re asking.”

“Why not?” Her face was all angles and straight lines, her mouth a slash across her face. “You have nothing to lose.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Joshua asked. “You’d think that, but you would be wrong.”

“What’s left, Joshua?” Agent Cooper pulled a chair away from the desk and placed it facing him. She sat down, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve lost everything. For hell’s sake, you just lost your car. That you were living in.”

Joshua snorted, the movement pulling at his side. “That? That’s nothing. It was a LeSabre.” He met her gaze, never blinking. “What I have left to lose is my guilt.”

Coop shook her head. “What do you mean? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Shifting to try to relieve some of the pressure on his ribcage, he tried to explain. “Let’s say I go with you. We find the killer or we don’t. Doesn’t really matter.”

“How could that not matter?” she shot back, her tone sharp. “There are victims out there dying because of this man.”

“I’m not talking about that. You think you’re offering me a chance to get closure, or justice, or whatever the hell you want to call it.” He held up a hand to forestall her next statement. “But that’s not what you’re selling. You’re hawking redemption here. And I’m not buying.”

“But you—”

Joshua exploded, cutting her off. “I don’t deserve it! Can you understand that? They’re gone because of me. My life is a waste.”

“Then why don’t you end it?” The agent’s tone was direct, demanding.

“What?” Joshua asked, shocked for a moment out of his agony of self-pity.

“End it. Your life is so bad—kill yourself.” She motioned to him. “Whatever’s waiting for you on the other side can’t be as miserable as this.”

And there was the essence of the problem. It wasn’t that easy. “That’s the point. I suffer for them. Anything less would be a mockery.”

Agent Cooper held up her hands. “Yeah, I don’t get that at all. And maybe it would be best if I just gave up and let you walk out of here with my blessing.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, her chin jutting out in defiance. “But that’s not really my style.”

“Might want to rethink that, babe,” Joshua muttered.

Her frown tightened even further. “You think this is all about you and your pain. I’m telling you it’s not.”

“You don’t—” he started.

“I know,” Agent Cooper cut him off. It appeared her patience had run out. “I don’t have any right to say this, but I’m going to say it anyway. What you chose to do or not do affects other people. Your self-destruction isn’t just about you, you selfish prick.”

Joshua stared at her for a brief moment, nodded, then pushed himself up from the bed and crossed over to the minibar. Opening the door, he reached in and grabbed a handful of the tiny bottles of alcohol. He didn’t even look to see what he’d gotten.

Walking toward the door, Joshua called out over his shoulder. “Thanks for the booze. Or I guess I should thank Uncle Sam. Good luck explaining it to the finance guys.”

He tried to slam the door on the way out, but he didn’t have a lot of strength left after the night he’d gone through. Plus, it was one of those doors with the hydraulic hinges. Lessened the impact of his exit, but what the hell. Why did he care?

He’d never see Agent Cooper again.

* * *

Congratulations, Agent Cooper, Sariah told herself. That was a real coup.

She’d known when she had gone off on that last rant that she had crossed a line. The man was hurting in ways that Sariah couldn’t even begin to fathom, and she’d basically taken her finger, poked it all the way into the wound and then swirled it around for good measure.

If there had been some chance of her winning the broken agent over to their side after their encounter at the bar, it was now gone. Knowing what she now knew of the man, getting him to help may never have been a real possibility. But in the meantime she’d managed to open up all of his old wounds while still getting no closer to her endgame.

Suck.

The guy was now completely homeless—no money, no clothes but the cut-up ones he had on his back. And at least part of that beautiful picture could be traced back to Sariah’s direct involvement. Another moment when she would have loved to grab herself a stiff drink. Another moment when she couldn’t because of that damned ankle bracelet. That was an impulse she was now wishing she hadn’t followed.

She glanced at the clock radio next to the bed. It was 12:24 am. She needed to be up by at least 5:30 to get to Penn Station to catch the 6:05 Northeast Regional. All she wanted to do was climb into bed and get the five hours sleep available to her.

But that wasn’t going to happen. As much as Joshua pissed her off in a way that very few people managed to do, she wasn’t going to just leave him high and dry. Maybe there wasn’t a ton she could do, but she could at least get him set up for the next couple of days until he could start to figure something out.

Sariah sighed and stood up. It was time to go Joshua hunting.

Again.

CHAPTER 4

Joshua walked through the pools of light cast by overhead streetlamps, traversing the darkness in between gaping maws that ironically spoke of the horrors that awaited him with the coming of dawn.

He twisted off the lid of the Jim Beam mini-bottle and upended the contents into his mouth. He hated Jim Beam. Didn’t matter. This was the third he’d consumed so far, and he couldn’t even remember what the other two had been. The familiar burn went all the way down into his gut, warming him.

But there was no comfort in that warmth. Instead, it combined with the heat of the air and threatened to suffocate him. It wasn’t just that it felt as if he wasn’t getting enough breath. It was that he no longer cared about the act of breathing itself.

His head throbbed. His side ached. There were small cuts and bruises across the rest of his body. Each, alone, would have been a minor irritant. Together they weighed him down, slowing his reactions as much as the alcohol ever could.

New York at night during the summer was only different from the day in that the sun wasn’t trying to add its bullying fist to the overbearing sticky mallet with which the heat was pounding you. The temperature had perhaps dropped a grand total of two measly degrees since the sun set hours and hours ago.

Joshua had no real idea what time it was. Sometime between dark o’clock and way-too-damn-early-in-the-morning. All he knew was that he was still moving away from Agent Cooper and the salvation she offered. And that he had three more of the tiny bottles of booze. There was a Smirnoff vodka, a Captain Morgan’s spiced rum and a Bailey’s Irish Cream. Fantastic.

He was regretting not looking more closely at what he had snagged out of the minibar at this point. Couldn’t have been Johnny Walker red label, now could it? No, no. Definitely not.

Three more bottles. Then he was out. Three more miniscule containers of precious alcohol and then his life stepped completely off the edge of the cliff, figuratively speaking. It never ceased to amaze Joshua just how far down he could fall when he set his mind and resources to it.

Of course, he didn’t only have himself to thank this time around. No. It had taken some tactical support from the good ol’ FB of I to take him down to a truly subterranean level. Uncle Sam hadn’t been content with him just flattened on the pavement. They had sent one of their best and brightest to leave him in a pit out of which there was no way he could climb.

He came upon the mouth of an alleyway and heard sounds coming from the ill-lit night there in its depths. Sounded like a mugging. Some poor schmuck getting his wallet lifted at gun or knifepoint.

Gotta love New York. Joshua tried to rouse some feeling of pity, but even that required more strength than he had. At least if he wanted to keep walking. And he definitely wanted to keep walking.

He began to cross the street. No one had helped him in his hour of need. He wasn’t about to risk his neck to keep some slob and his money from getting parted.

A feminine cry and the sound of ripped clothing changed the mental image from a mugging to a rape. Joshua paused, but once again failed to arouse within himself the passion needed to call out. He pulled out the Smirnoff, twisted off the cap and sucked the fluid down. Kerosene would probably taste less caustic.

Keeping away from the crime was one thing, but he couldn’t quite stop himself from at least taking a look. He glanced over his shoulder long enough to catch a flash of long blonde hair fanning out as the attacker dragged the girl through the one small pool of light cast by an overhead bulb on one of the buildings.

It was Livvie.

The thought punched a hole in his gut that threatened to take his breath away and never give it back. It was her sixteenth un-birthday. She would’ve been out tonight, celebrating with her friends.

This could have been her.

It wasn’t her. Of course it wasn’t her. But Joshua found his feet moving toward the conflict of their own volition. A stranger he could’ve passed by with little remorse. It would have been just one more tiny drop of shame to add to the sea that already churned within him. Passing by the rape of his baby would create an inner ocean that could never be contained.

Beginning to run, Joshua found the landscape around him tilting dangerously. He pulled back to a brisk walk, holding onto his equilibrium with an iron grip. Now was not the time to fall down from the drink. Had to keep it together for his daughter. Somebody’s daughter.

He caught sight of the girl, now on the ground with part of her shirt torn off. Her attacker was standing above her, a gun in one hand, the other wrestling with his belt.

The first moment of this confrontation was the most important. He could try to sneak in closer and attack from behind, or he could just surprise the guy by calling out to him. A rapist interrupted had two choices: cut and run, or face the added exposure and danger of dealing with the new threat. Most bolted.

“Hey!” Joshua yelled. The rapist stopped worrying about his belt and spun around, the gun now pointed square at Joshua. Perfect. This guy was an idiot with something to prove.

“This has nothing to do with you,” the attacker growled. He was young, Caucasian, with piercings all over his face. “Walk away now before you get hurt.”

“Go ahead. Shoot me.” Joshua edged forward, angling himself to try to get between the man and his prostrate victim. Problem was, it was difficult to be stealthy when you were drunk. His feet kept betraying him, catching on the pitted surface of the neglected asphalt.

“You’re crazy,” the young man barked, moving the gun to follow Joshua’s movements. The attacker paused, then looked closer. “And drunk.”

“Yes… and yes. Very observant.” Just a few more steps and Joshua would be able to leap in between the gun and the girl.

“Stop. I’ll shoot. I mean it.” A note of hysteria had crept into the thug’s voice.

“Look at me. Does it seem like I give a shit?” Joshua leapt just as he finished his sentence, trying to catch the man off guard.

It didn’t work.

His reflexes dulled by the alcohol, Joshua found that his leap was less of a jump and more of a stumble forward. The attacker had more than enough time to respond. The pistol in his hand punched into the side of Joshua’s head, catching him right where he’d been kicked earlier that night. Flashes of light exploded in his vision. But in spite of the pain, Joshua barreled forward, lashing out with his fist in as close to the right direction as he could manage in his current state.

He connected with the guy’s abdomen, and Joshua felt the whoosh of air that rushed out of the criminal’s lungs. The victory was short-lived, however, as the man used his other hand to lash out at Joshua’s side… the one with the cut from the knife injury. The pain was immediate and intense.

Joshua groaned and fell back, clutching at the man’s gun hand as he did so. The attacker pulled back, trying to free his weapon from Joshua’s grip, and as he did so, the pistol fired, the recoil whipping his arm back.

A cry came from the direction of the girl on the ground. She was clutching at her stomach, red seeping out from between her fingers. The stray bullet had found a target, and that target was now writhing on the asphalt in a growing pool of her own blood.

“Shit!” the young man cried out, staring down at the girl. He turned to face Joshua, who was trying to lift himself up from where he’d been thrown. “You! You made me do that. It wasn’t me. It was you.” He swung the pistol back around so that it was pointed once more at Joshua. “Now I have to kill you and her both, you son of a bitch.”

“Or you could drop your weapon and raise your hands,” came a voice from the entrance to the alley. Agent Cooper strode forward, her standard-issue Glock steady in her hands, her stance straight out of Quantico. Okay, standard could be boring, but right now Joshua found that he was relieved to see it.

The would-be rapist’s gun clattered to the pavement, and Coop eased forward. After spinning the young man around, she pulled out a pair of handcuffs and slapped them onto his wrists.

Joshua crawled his way over to the girl on the ground. She was moaning, still holding her stomach in her hands. Joshua tried to peel back her fingers, needing to see how serious the wound was. As her hand moved away, he could see the extent of the damage there. It was bad.

“I’m so sorry,” Joshua whispered. “I was trying to help.”

The only response he received was continued moans. A shadow fell over them both, and Joshua turned to look up at the slight figure of Agent Cooper above him. She pulled out her cellphone and swiped at the touchscreen.

“I’m calling this in, and then we’re going to talk.”

Right now, Joshua could think of nothing that sounded less appealing.

* * *

The NYPD had taken over the scene, and Sariah had given her statement. She’d also made sure that the victim of the attack was going to be okay. The paramedics seemed optimistic about her chances, but a gunshot wound to the stomach was never an easy fix.

Now she was just waiting on Joshua. He’d been much more subdued than Sariah had seen him up to this point, cooperating with the detectives on the scene as they grilled him about the details of the encounter.

Sariah had to admit that she had been shocked to find Joshua in that alley, attempting to stop a rape from happening. The man she’d met and spoken with so far that evening was not the kind of person who would push someone out of the way of a moving bus, even at no risk to himself. So what the hell would have caused him to step in here?

That fit in much more with the idea of the Agent Joshua Wright that Sariah had read up on before getting to Manhattan. The man in the file was someone who wouldn’t ever stand by while someone was getting hurt.

The fact that drunk, self-sabotaging Joshua had done it suggested that there was something of that former agent still trapped inside of him. Now all Sariah needed to do was unlock it and set it to work catching a killer. And she had a couple of ideas on how she might do that. None that would be pleasant, but maybe pleasant wasn’t what the former agent needed right now. If it was, he was out of luck.

She wasn’t that person.

Joshua moved away from the detective interviewing him, with a last gesture of finality. As he walked nearer to Sariah, she noticed that his gait was unsteady, and it didn’t appear to be from the alcohol. What their earlier encounter hadn’t managed to do, this one may have. Her gaze went up to the side of his head, which showed signs of significant bruising.

“You want to tell me what happened?” Sariah asked.

Sighing, Joshua slumped down and sat on the curb. “I was trying to help.”

“Looks to me like you were trying to get her killed, and maybe yourself in the process.”

The former agent winced, whether from her statement or from the pain of sitting down beside her with all of his various battle wounds, Sariah couldn’t tell. He sighed, a deep and long exhalation of breath, that felt like it carried his soul with it.

“She reminded me of someone.”

There was pain and suffering there of which he wasn’t even scratching the surface. It showed in the slumping of his shoulders, the set of his mouth, the clenching of his hands. Here were the buttons she needed to push to get him to go with her. She knew it. And yet, now that it had come to the moment, she couldn’t force herself to do it.

“Must’ve been someone pretty spectacular.”

“Yeah.”

“Wife?”

“Daughter,” he replied, then broke down sobbing.

Sariah sat there, not sure what to do. She had pushed the buttons without intending to. He cried like a young child, holding nothing back. No attempt to stem the tide of tears, no sniffing to keep the snot from running down his face, no turning away to keep other eyes from seeing. It was an ugly cry, un-masculine and un-adult.

It might have been one of the most beautiful things Sariah had ever seen.

The sobs continued unabated for quite a while, investigators from the police team passing by, sending inquiring looks in Sariah’s direction. Need any help? Can I do something? She shook her head, sending each of them on about their business. Joshua had created a private space that deserved to be kept private.

After several minutes, his shaking form began to quiet itself. He lifted his head and turned to look at her, his eyes red from his outpouring of grief.

“Thank you.”

Surprised, Sariah sat back. “For what?”

He shrugged, his face creasing itself into a hundred lines of pain. “For not trying to help. For just sitting there.”

“I’d love to claim some kind of wisdom here, but I had no idea what to do.”

“No one does. Most of them try anyway.” He looked around at the scurrying figures surrounding them at the crime scene. “Trust me, I’ve experienced it all firsthand. It’s part of what drove me to New York.”

“And to the bottle?”

“Yeah. That too.” Joshua let loose one more sob, almost like an aftershock. He shook his head. “She could have died.”

It wasn’t in Sariah to sugarcoat. It might’ve been the nice thing to do, but she wasn’t sure that nice was what he needed right now.

“It’s not a sure thing that she won’t.”

“I know.”

Sariah took the measure of the man beside her. Here was someone who had suffered the grief of multiple lifetimes and had been left a hollow shell. If there were ever anyone who deserved to be able to wallow, to receive unending comfort, this was the one.

Too bad he was stuck with her.

“What you’re doing doesn’t just affect you, Joshua.”

“I get that.”

“Do you?” Sariah probed, catching his gaze and holding it. “Do you really get it? Because it’s not redemption I’m bringing you.”

Joshua met her gaze head on. “Then what?”

“I’m bringing you the names of the dead. The ones you could have saved but didn’t.”

Pushing himself back up to standing, Joshua hobbled away from her, weaving a bit and clutching at his head. He peered up at the one light bulb that had served as the only illumination in this alley, before all the flashing lights had shown up. The gleam from the lit globe brightened his face, giving him an almost angelic glow for a moment. He turned back to her.

“That…” He paused, then grimaced. It almost seemed like a smile. “That kinda works for me.”

“I thought it might.” Sariah gestured for him to follow. “And now let’s get you to the hospital. You’re looking like you might be concussed.”

Joshua’s squawking didn’t die down for quite a while after that.

* * *

The New York Hospital, Queens, looked like some kid had been playing with his Erector set and decided to quit and walk away. It was a gray, jagged set of interconnected boxes that did nothing but depress anyone who looked at it.

And right now, it was Joshua Wright who was looking at it. At least the front entrance was a tiny bit more welcoming, with its maroon brick façade cut with green-tinted glass. But as he and Agent Cooper walked through the doors, the inside was just like any other hospital: drab, off-white walls that spoke of sterility and healing to most, but screamed nothing but germs and suffering to Joshua.

Plus, the alcohol was starting to wear off.

What was he doing here? He’d never allowed someone to drag him to a hospital before. What made tonight different?

Joshua observed his captor as she checked in at the desk of the ER. She still seemed to be as put-together and fresh as she’d been when he first saw her. There was no attraction here. Some men went for the young ones, but that had never appealed to Joshua. But there was something about this agent that was getting itself wedged underneath his skin in a big way.

He didn’t like it.

There were several people ahead of them, but none as serious as his possible concussion. Shocking for Queens. When a pert young nurse in braided pigtails called for him to come back for an initial evaluation, Joshua noticed more than one pair of eyes glaring at him out of dark faces. Look at whitey, going up to the front of the line. At least having Coop with him mitigated the race card a slight bit.

Following the nurse back to triage, Joshua called back to Coop, who was three steps behind him, “If I die from something I catch here, I’m taking you down with me.”

The nurse turned with a flip of her braids. “Oh, we take hygiene very seriously here at New York Hospital, Queens.”

“I bet you do,” he replied. “Probably douche after sex, too, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Every ounce of politeness the nurse had radiated vanished in those two words.

“Joshua,” Agent Cooper growled from behind him. Hey, he had warned her not to take him to the hospital. She should learn to pay attention.

“Sorry.” He smirked at the nurse, her badge proclaiming her to be Nurse Jensen. “It’s the concussion. Can’t help it.”

Coop moved forward, speaking to Nurse Jensen. “It’s the fact that he’s an asshole. And he’s right, he can’t help that.”

The nurse gave Agent Cooper a smile and a nod, fixed Joshua with a glare and then turned to prepare the blood pressure cuff. She gestured with a free hand to a chair in which he could sit.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

* * *

Sariah watched as the nurse fumbled with the cuff, struggling to get the Velcro open, then dropping it twice before she managed to get it around Joshua’s arm. As she maneuvered around to try once more, she bumped into Joshua’s side, grazing the place on his side that Sariah had bandaged up earlier that night.

Joshua hissed in pain. “You have done this before, right?” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “How old are you? Have you even had your first period?”

The gasp told Sariah that the former agent had struck a nerve. The roughness with which she grabbed his arm to reapply the cuff told her he’d struck true. The combination of the alcohol burning off and his being in a hospital had turned Joshua into a rabid dog.

“And those pigtails. Really?” He snorted in disdain. “Are you trying to fit into some old lecher’s porn fantasy? Might as well be wearing a school girl uniform and sucking on a lollipop.” The nurse’s breath came faster and her bottom lip started to tremble.

“Joshua,” Sariah warned. “Whatever you’ve got going on in that sick brain of yours, keep it there. This girl’s done nothing.”

“Nothing? Oh, that’s not true, now, is it, Nurse Jensen?” He winked at the nurse. “She’s screwing her boss. Aren’t you, precious?”

The poor girl managed to hold on for another few seconds, then burst into tears and fled the room. The sound of her sobbing could be heard down the hall.

Joshua stretched, groaning as he pulled on the area of his side that had been bruised. “There. That should work to get someone competent in here.”

Sariah stood up from the chair where she’d been watching this scene play out and approached the table where Joshua sat, perched. The bright fluorescent lights overhead buzzed and blinked in time with the beeping of one of the instruments in a nearby room. They spoke of the breakdown of all things human, both the body itself and everything else created by this magnificent, warped race of self-eaters. Clapping her hands together in a slow rhythm, she caught Joshua’s eye and held it, making her distaste clear.

“That was masterful.”

“I told you not to bring me here.”

Sariah nodded. “I see. So you decided to take out your impotent rage on a young candy striper? Makes total sense. Can’t save ‘em in the alleyway, might as well terrorize ‘em at their place of work.”

“She was incompetent.”

“She was trying to be nice,” Sariah corrected him. “And before you get started on me, let me just tell you that I’m not menstruating, nor am I sleeping with my boss.”

Joshua chuckled, a short burst of bark-like noises. “You think that’s going to save you? There’s so much more fodder for my cannons.”

“Do it, then. Don’t keep me in suspense.” There was no way Sariah was going to back down from this. The former agent was going to be working with them. Time to lay all the cards out and see who had what trump cards.

The former agent cracked his neck. “I feel bad for you.”

“Don’t.”

“Fine.” He fixed her with a bloodshot eye. “You had an abusive drunk of a father for whom you cared. But he died. On your watch. Probably while you were doing something passive-aggressive to get back at him.”

Sariah took a step back. She’d seen analysts at the BAU pull some rabbits out of hats, but nothing compared to this. The blood began rushing and throbbing in her inner ear, pounding out a rhythm that said, run, run.

But he wasn’t done yet. “You’ve spent the rest of your life proving your father right. You can’t get along with anyone. You’ve done your damnedest to sabotage your own career. And you are completely ineffectual at your job.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. It was like he had taken every single one of her fears and spread them out on the table beside him. He didn’t just have a trump card here and there. He had them all.

And it didn’t matter in the slightest.

“You’re right,” Sariah answered. She was proud that her voice remained steady. Almost. “Which is why you have to come with me. This plan to get away from me is not working out so well for you. You’ve just reconfirmed to me that I can’t do it without you.”

As she walked off to the nearest bathroom to clean her face, Sariah smiled to herself. He may have her pegged, but she hadn’t failed. She wasn’t incompetent.

Joshua was coming with her, and together they were going to catch a killer.

* * *

Joshua had woken up at four thirty. It never failed. Somewhere around four in the morning, he would start awake from dark dreams, and that would be it for sleep for the night. Didn’t matter how hard he tried to drift back down into the embrace of the little death. It always evaded him.

So he had pushed himself up from the couch and listened to the snoring of Agent Cooper for a while. Too bad he hadn’t had anything to record it. She’d be mortified if she knew how loud she was. Although, so far, she’d defied his expectations about how she was going to respond to everything he’d thrown at her.

His assessments of her were all spot-on. He knew it. And yet, when he called her on it, she just seemed to get stronger.

He also acknowledged that it was going to take a lot to break through the layer of ice that woman had built up around her. It would also take a different person. Joshua wasn’t interested in all that.

Keep those walls up, baby. You’re going to need them.

He’d then spent the next forty-five minutes going through her stuff. He’d found his own file, which had been a fascinating read. And then, of course, the file on Humpty Dumpty. That had taken a few more of the mini-bottles of liquor to get through, in spite of his best efforts to the contrary. Working on this case was not going to be easy.

Starting out, Joshua had done his best to stay quiet, but when the steady buzz saw noise coming from the petite agent hadn’t changed, his searching had gotten more and more aggressive. By the time it was 5:15, all the lights and the television were on, and she still hadn’t stirred.

It was time for them to get out of here, and Joshua had long since gotten all the information he’d be able to get on his own. So… time to wake up Sleeping Beauty.

She lay there on the bed, her limbs all akimbo. At some point during the night, she’d kicked the covers off of her legs, and Joshua could see the alcohol bracelet there, attached to her ankle. Stupid girl. That hadn’t worked out too well, had it?

Then again, he was here. Maybe she wasn’t so stupid after all.

It didn’t take long before he found that waking her up was going to be much more difficult than it should have been. After poking and prodding her with no discernible effect, Joshua got an idea.

Turnabout was fair play, after all.

He grabbed the ice bucket on the bathroom counter, swung the bar of the sliding bolt against the doorframe to keep the door to the hotel room open, and trotted out to the nearest ice machine. A push of the button and the bucket was full.

After making his way back to the room, he filled up the bucket with water, walked over to the bed and held the ice water over Agent Cooper’s sleeping form. A couple more moments to enjoy the sweet sounds of her slumber and then he emptied the contents of the bucket all over her head.

The sounds of her yells were sweet, sweet music to his ears.

CHAPTER 5

Washington, DC was the coolest place Had’d ever seen in his life.

Of course, he hadn’t seen any other cities outside of Michigan, not that he could remember, anyway. Detroit had been one of the great disappointments of his young life.

In spite of having no sleep the night before, he was excited when Judy, sitting next to him in the plane, had started chatting with him. It had made the flight go by so fast. Plus, Had not only had a place to stay in Phoenix whenever he might be out that way, but he now knew how to pickle prickly pears. Bonus. People were fascinating.

Even considering how hard it was to keep his eyes open at this point, the first thing Had did upon touching down in DC was to start seeing every sight he could. He wasn’t supposed to meet up with Coop until 10 and his flight had gotten in at 7:35. The taxi ride out to Quantico was going to take about forty-five minutes. That gave him just over an hour.

More than enough time.

He grabbed the first taxi he could find out in front of the Ronald Reagan National Airport. The driver was a Pakistani driver named Bilal who managed to be even friendlier than Judy from the plane, even though his English rated just above the third-grade level. Plus, the guy knew his way around DC, and had an uncanny ability to avoid the worst of the early morning traffic.

“Did you know that the Washington Monument is made up of two different kinds of stone?” Had asked the man. He’d studied up on the capitol city before he’d gotten here and had all kinds of facts at his fingertips. "If you look close, you can see two colors."

“I was not knowing this fact,” responded the driver. He appeared to be surprised. “And I am driving in this place for many years.”

They’d hit the Mall, the Lincoln Memorial, the Museum of Natural History and now they were headed over to the White House. At some point, Had wanted to stop and walk and really take time with each of these landmarks, but for right now, he was just happy to be catching glimpses of them all.

“And here she be, my friend,” Bilal yelled over his shoulder. Or at least that’s what Had thought he was saying. Everything that came out of the driver’s mouth was loud and somewhat unintelligible.

“Great!” Had said, looking out the window. “Um. Do you think you could maybe slow down for a second?”

“You are seeing me and how I are looking, no?” Bilal waved his hands up and down his form, circling his face a few times. “It is not for me to be slowing down outside this place of all places.”

“Yeah, good call,” Had answered back. He could try to pretend that it wouldn’t be an issue, but whom would he be kidding? Even if Bilal got the meaning of the whole thing, the guy wasn’t stupid. His particular look wasn’t really “in” right now when it came to keeping security tight around the nation’s most important monuments.

Besides, much as he wanted to spend some time around the White House, right now it was more important to get out to Quantico. He would much rather be early than even a few moments late. It was his first day on the job, and his mama had always talked about how important that initial impression was.

Comb your hair, be on time, smile lots and try not to talk too much.

Well, he tried to get three out of the four. He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror at his hair that was sticking up at all angles. Okay, two. He had a great smile.

And now he was headed to Quantico, Virginia. He was going to see the world-famous FBI Academy. Hell, he was going to work inside it, alongside some of its graduates. His skin was buzzing like he’d gone on a diet of nothing but coffee and Red Bull, but there was nothing artificial about this high. He’d earned it, baby.

He went over the details of the case in his head. After going through the files four more times last night, even the most obscure pieces of the puzzle were embedded in his head deeper than any hidden file on a server.

The most fascinating, though tragic, parts of the case were those involving Agent Joshua Wright. The guy seemed to be some kind of BAU legend. Not a top tier student—at least not at first. But when the future Agent Wright had been introduced to the realm of behavioral analysis, he’d shot to the front of the class in no time flat.

His fall had been just as steep a progression as his rise to prominence, just in the opposite direction. Agent Wright had managed to burn every bridge that his brilliance had ever built. It was like he had adopted some kind of scorched-earth policy. No one seemed to speak ill of him, but that was mostly due to the fact that they all knew the story. No one wanted to be the one to flog the dead horse.

Had didn’t have any brothers or sisters, and it was only his mama now. His dad had died when he was about seven. He’d been a mortician, which was probably where Had’d gotten his inappropriate and rather morbid sense of humor. Oh, and his ease around dead bodies. Couldn’t overemphasize that one. It might be at least part of what had gotten him this job.

Shaking his head to get back on track, Had thought about his mama. If she were to pass away… He shook his head again. If he was going to play this game, he might as well play for keeps. If she were to be killed by a homicidal maniac and thrown in a wood chipper, what would Had do?

The answer was immediate and clear. Fall apart seven ways from Sunday.

And Agent Wright had lost his wife and three daughters. Had’s mind boggled. There was no way that anyone could handle that and still come out normal.

Which, according to Coop, was exactly what had happened to Agent Wright.

Almost as if his thoughts had conjured it, a text came through on his phone. It was from Coop.

I’ve got him. See you at 10.

Before she’d left, Coop had talked with Had about how she was going to convince the former agent to help. She’d been talking so loud it had almost burst his eardrum. It had felt to him like she was nervous, even though she’d never say it. Overcompensation, maybe? But whatever she’d done had apparently worked, and now their trusty crew of two had grown by fifty percent.

Had was thrilled. If it wasn’t enough that he’d get to work on a case that was urban legend, he was getting to meet a guy who had been a part of that whole thing from the start. That was pretty cool. More than pretty cool. Had would be doing his happy dance right now if he weren’t trapped in the backseat of a taxicab.

Screw that noise. He decided to do it in his head. No one could see him do that, now could they? He groped around in his head for a minute… there. That was it. That was the one. “Pocketful of Sunshine” by Natasha Bedingfield. He’d never admit it out loud, but it had been one of his favorites since he had heard it for the first time while watching Easy A. Emma Stone was so hot.

But then a stray and rather pointed thought intruded and popped the bubble of both his happy dance and his burgeoning mini-fantasy involving the redheaded star. Agent Cooper was one of the smartest people Had had ever met. And according to the way she’d been talking about him, Agent Wright was even smarter than that. Where in the hell could Had fit himself into that equation?

“So, my friend, what you go to Quantico?” Bilal’s voice intruded on his no-longer-quite-so-happy thoughts.

“Oh, um…” Had wasn’t positive what he could disclose, so he decided to play it a little bit safe. “I’m just working on something with the BAU… ah, the FBI.”

“BAU I know. I know this. Criminal Minds, no?” Bilal grinned at him in the rearview mirror. “You work for this?”

“Yeah. Yes. Well, sort of.” From the time he was young, Had had a problem keeping things simple. If even the smallest detail of the story was off, he had to fix it. Drove his mama nuts. But it had made his lies some of the most compelling in Ann Arbor. Some of the older kids had started hanging out with him just to use his skills.

“Sort of? How means ‘sort of?'”

“I’m just on loan. I’m from up in Michigan. Ann Arbor.”

Bilal nodded. “Ah. Small city, no? You must be having the smart pants.”

“What?”

“You. Smart, no?” Bilal pointed at his own head.

“No. I mean yes. Well…” Had sputtered. This was hitting him right where he was living. “I think no one else wanted the job. I mean, I’ve always been smart enough for Ann Arbor, but now…”

“Now you are playing with large men?” More sage nodding.

“If that means what I think it means, then yes. I’m a small fish swimming in a ginormous, ocean-sized pond.”

“Ah, yes, but you am thinking like small city.”

Had gave a sour bark of a laugh at that. “That’s exactly my problem.”

“No, no, my friend.” For the first time that Had had seen, the driver was shaking his head from side to side. “No problem. Good thing. You see what big city are not seeing.”

“You mean that I’ll notice things differently than them?”

Back to the nodding. “Yes. Yes, my friend.”

“Yeah, but that’s…” Had paused to think that through for a moment before continuing. “Actually, that’s kind of brilliant.”

“Yes! You are understanding this now.” Bilal pointed to his head again. “For I, too, am coming from a small cities. I am seeing things different.”

Had settled back in his seat, trying to absorb this new way of thinking. He had no idea how it would end up playing out, but it was possible that this Pakistani cab driver had given him the secret to succeeding with two of the smartest agents the BAU may have ever produced. There was something that Had was bringing to the table that no one else could.

Now all he had to do was figure out what that was.

Oh, and one more thing…

“Bilal, do you have a business card or something that I can use to get a hold of you?” The driver looked into the mirror as Had continued. “You know, in case I want to request you as a driver, or need to know something about the city.”

All Had could see in response were all of Bilal’s teeth gleaming in the rearview mirror as the driver reached into his glove compartment to pull out a card.

Had now had a friend in DC.

Another thought came to him. Something he’d been stressing about. “Hey, Bilal, one more thing,” he said as he took the card from the grinning driver. “What do you think of my boots? Too much?”

* * *

The day had started bad and hadn’t improved much since then.

Sariah would love to blame her headache on the heat—Quantico wasn’t much cooler than New York—but that wouldn’t take into consideration the considerable talents of the man sitting next to her. He had managed, in the past five hours, to piss off pretty much everyone around them.

He’d gotten into a verbal spat with the lady at the ticket counter at the train station. There had been the stream of emotional abuse when the conductor of the train came into the dining car to let Joshua know that he would no longer be served alcohol. And then there were the two teenagers who had ventured too close while he was trying to sleep through the remainder of his alcohol-free trip. That had almost ended in violence.

But now they were here. Back at Quantico.

It always surprised Sariah to realize that she missed the place when she was away. The FBI Academy building seemed to be modeled after the same design that inspired the J. Edgar Hoover building in DC. Same dirty tan color. Same boxy structure. Same prison-like exterior that screamed government building.

But something about the place… the energy or the smell, maybe—definitely wasn’t the people… that felt almost like home to her. That sense of homecoming was shattered when Agent Salazar stumbled upon them walking down the hall toward Special-Agent-in-Charge Nick Tanner’s office.

“Wow. Hey. Look at this,” the agent called out in a voice that was too loud. “It’s Agent Cooper back from chasing nursery rhymes.”

Sariah sighed. If there was one person she could have done without seeing today, it was Agent Ricardo Salazar.

“Oh, look,” she replied, keeping her tone pleasant. “It’s one of the king’s horses. Oh, wait. I’m sorry. It’s one of the horses’ asses.”

Salazar grinned in a smile that managed to bare almost all of his teeth. “I see what you did there. Humpty. You’re hilarious.” He turned away from her and faced Joshua, who was looking a little worse for wear. “And are we housing the homeless now?”

Sariah turned to face her companion. “Joshua, this is Agent Salazar. Salazar, this is Joshua Wright, former—” Sariah started.

“The Joshua Wright? Whoa. How the mighty have fallen.” Salazar leaned in toward Joshua, seemed to catch a whiff of him and backed away. “Fallen right into a puddle of whiskey and shit, apparently.”

Sariah winced. Based off of what had gone on so far today, this was not going to end well. And while Joshua might have been the cream of the crop back when he was an agent, he was a shadow of that former man. And still drunk for the most part.

But Joshua responded in a tone that was calm and civil. “Agent Salazar. A pleasure to meet you. I apologize for my… appearance. Traveling doesn’t suit me, I’m afraid to say.”

“Whatever, man. As long as you don’t touch my threads.” Salazar chuckled to himself, clearly pleased with his witty repartee.

“Of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Joshua began moving again, then stopped and motioned to Sariah. “Agent Cooper. Shall we?”

They moved down the hall past Salazar’s earshot before Sariah whispered to her companion. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” he replied, his tone innocent.

“You all the sudden became the Duke of Salisbury or something? 'I apologize for my appearance'? 'Traveling doesn’t suit me, I’m afraid'?”

“Look, Salazar’s an ass. But rising to his bait’ll just make our lives more miserable.”

“Yes, but—”

“Coop,” Joshua cut her off. “Guys like that eat themselves alive. He’ll end up wallowing in middle management until he screws up enough that he either gets demoted or fired. Insulting him is like picking on the handicapped kid at recess.”

Joshua’s statement hit Sariah like a sledgehammer to the chest. Salazar had been her nemesis since she’d gotten here. Abusing her without stop, doing what he could to get her in trouble, basically making her life a living hell. And she was the bully?

“But—”

“Come on. Time to meet this forward-thinking idiot boss of yours that wants to resurrect the devil.”

Sariah followed behind him, trying to sort through what had just happened. No matter what she thought Joshua was going to do next, he surprised her at every turn. Just when she thought he was dodging left, he’d leap over her. Every time she was sure he’d stand his ground and fight, he bent over backward.

If he could get his life in order, he would be unstoppable.

For a moment, Sariah almost felt sorry for Humpty. Then she realized that she should be much more worried about herself. And Had. And anyone else here at Quantico who ran into the former agent.

God help them all.

* * *

Joshua stepped through the door of Special-Agent-in-Charge Nicholas Tanner’s office right behind Agent Cooper. Right at the last minute he’d slowed down and allowed her to pass in front of him. He was aware of how he looked, and as much as he wasn’t sure he wanted to be here, he didn’t relish getting escorted off the premises by security.

Not yet, anyway.

Agent Nick Tanner was a squat, built-like-a-brick wedge of a man. Even his very large brow added to that image. His thrusting blade of a forehead was emphasized by the fact that his blond hair was receding away from it at what appeared to be an alarming rate. The entire impression was of a linebacker in the slow process of going soft.

Until Joshua looked in his eyes. There he saw titanium. All the strength that Agent Tanner’s body had once possessed was reflected there.

Joshua hated him.

“Agent Cooper,” Tanner addressed her, coming out from behind his desk to shake her hand. “And Joshua Wright, I’m guessing?”

For some reason, the fact that Agent Tanner had neglected to call him agent or even former agent rankled him. Under normal circumstances, Joshua had no desire to have his former title linked with the man he had become. But now it felt like an insult.

“Special-Agent-in-Charge Nicholas Tanner,” Joshua said, turning the title into something unsavory with his tone. “The asshole who decided to open back up the Humpty Case.” He made no move to cross toward the agent’s outstretched hand.

Joshua heard a sharp intake of breath. Coop’s. Yeah, she probably hadn’t expected this. To be honest, neither had Joshua. But he was in it now and wasn’t about to take it back. This was a case that should have slept forever. Agent Tanner held his hand out for a moment longer, then dropped it, shaking his head.

“You’re probably correct, Mr. Wright.” He moved back around behind his desk and took a seat. “I’ve had the same thoughts bouncing around in my head since I put Agent Cooper on this.”

“You think you know—”

“Here’s something you need to know.” Agent Tanner cut him off, his voice sharp and direct, almost menacing. “I will tolerate your opinion, unsavory as it may have been coming out of your mouth.” He held up his hand to forestall Joshua’s next outburst. “But you will not come into my office and bark at me.”

Joshua found that he had nothing to say. No quips. No bon mots. No pithy comebacks. Agent Tanner had completely stepped out of the box that Joshua had tried to analyze him into, without apparent effort. No one had ever done that to him. He sat down in an empty chair.

“Now,” the agent said, his tone back to a more normal energy. “We have some work to do. Agent Cooper, where’s that cop of yours?”

Coop glanced at her wristwatch. “I told him ten. It’s still five ‘til.”

“Well, we’ll give him another few minutes to get here. Traffic from DC can be brutal. In the meantime—”

A knock at the door interrupted the agent. Coop turned to open the door, and in hustled a young man with tousled brown hair, wearing a blue button-down shirt, slacks, and… cowboy boots?

“Hello, everybody,” the man gushed, the Michigan flattened vowels prominent in his speech. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Officer Hadderly, come in and have a seat,” Tanner said, motioning toward another empty chair on the far side of Agent Cooper. “And no, you’re not late.”

“Great, great. Hate to make a bad first…” Hadderly caught sight of Coop. “Hey! Great to see you, Coop!” He glanced over at Agent Tanner and cleared his throat. “I mean, Agent Cooper.”

Tanner chuckled. “Don’t stress about the formalities, Officer. You three are going to be working very closely with each other. If nicknames are the worst you end up calling each other, I think we’re doing great.”

Hadderly made a motion like he was wiping sweat off of his brow. “Whew. Thought I’d stepped in it first thing.” He then caught sight of Joshua. “Are you…?”

Joshua could hear the beginnings of hero-worship in the kid’s tone. Time to disabuse him of that notion right off the bat.

“The washed-up drunk that for some reason has been dragged into a whirlwind of insanity?” He clucked his tongue and winked at the officer. “Yep. That’s me.”

“Holy cow. He’s just like I imagined him,” Hadderly gushed to Coop. She peered over at Joshua, apparently to see how he was taking that comment.

And how was he taking that comment? Joshua glanced down at his rumpled clothing, still torn and bloody from yesterday. He knew he reeked of booze and far worse. He hadn’t shaved in at least a week, and a good portion of the dirt and grime in Manhattan seemed to have made their way onto his skin.

All in all, Joshua was feeling insulted.

“I aim to please,” is all he said out loud.

This was turning out to be so much worse than what he had expected. And what he had expected had been pretty bad. An ice queen agent, a goofy farm boy cop, and a hard-assed boss to put the cherry on the top of this colorful sundae of a team. Thrilling. Suicide was starting to go up on his list of possible options.

And then music began playing. As far as Joshua could tell, it was emanating from the kid. Was that the theme music from Psycho?

The young officer pulled his phone out, his face red. “It’s my mama. I am so sorry.” And then he proceeded to take the call. In the middle of Special-Agent-in-Charge Tanner’s office.

“Mama, I really can’t talk now… No, don’t get my favorite soda, I’m not going to be there. Mama… Mama, I have to go. Uh-huh… No. Seriously gotta go now. Love you.” He pressed the button to end the call and slid the phone back into his pocket.

Joshua changed his mind. This was going to be awesome.

“I’m so, so sorry,” the kid gushed. “She doesn’t believe I’m here. Thinks she’s setting me up on a date tonight.”

“Well,” the special-agent-in-charge said, doing a remarkable job of keeping his patience, as far as Joshua could tell. “Now that we’ve all met Officer Hadderly…”

“Please. Call me Had. Everyone does.”

“Had,” Tanner said, nodding. “Will do. Now. While you were in New York, we got a call in from South Carolina. Woman in a park with her kids found a hand partially buried in the sand pit.”

“Did it show signs of being frozen?” Coop asked.

“Yes, according to the ME down there. It’s Charleston, so they aren’t completely backwoods…”

Joshua noticed that Had squirmed a bit in his chair at that. Probably felt like that’s how everyone saw him. Joshua couldn’t say he was wrong.

“But we should head down there to see if there’s anything they might have overlooked,” Agent Cooper finished for him.

“That’s it. I’ve got flights booked for you later tonight.” Tanner looked down at Joshua, then away. “Go get yourselves showered and changed—”

“Hold on,” Joshua interrupted. “That wasn’t part of the arrangement.”

“Excuse me?”

“No one said anything about personal hygiene. That just might be a deal breaker.”

The special-agent-in-charge just stared at him. Where Joshua’s earlier insubordination hadn’t seemed to cause the agent any undue stress, Joshua’s refusal to shower appeared to have him flummoxed. Perfect.

“Um,” Coop interrupted. “Joshua was robbed while we were there in New York. This is all he has right now in the way of personal effects.”

“Right,” the agent replied, turning his attention to her with apparent relief. “Use your card. Get him what he needs. We’ll cover it.” He faced Joshua again. “And we’ll make sure you’re compensated appropriately for your time here as a consultant.”

“Yeah, here’s the thing…” Joshua drawled. “I’m gonna need that in cash.”

Tanner seemed taken aback by that. “I’m not sure—”

“Non-negotiable. I don’t have a checking account. Live off the grid.”

“I see,” the agent said, frowning. “We’ll see what we can get worked out for you.”

“That’d be great.” Joshua stretched out the word great, his own little homage to Office Space. No one else would get it, of course…

Had started laughing. “Office Space, right? Love that movie.”

Okay. Maybe the kid wasn’t so bad. Joshua’s lips even started to curl into what felt like it might be a smile.

But then he recalled when he had seen that movie. It was one of the last times he’d gone out on a date with his wife. Right before the year when he’d stepped into hell and rented out space there.

And here he was, going right back into that fiery furnace.

What the hell was wrong with him?

CHAPTER 6

That meeting had gone well.

Had was on time, he’d met with the big kahuna and a living legend and so everything had been just about perfect. Well, expect for the call. And then the comment he’d made about Joshua. And… Okay, maybe things hadn’t gone quite so great. Matter of fact, now that he was thinking about it… No, things hadn’t gone well at all. The more he pondered on it, the more he realized that things were downright terrible.

Well, that was it. Had’s time playing with the big boys was over. He could pretend there wasn’t an issue here, but having your mother call in the middle of a meeting, and then deciding to take the call, seemed like it might be a career-killer. It had been inevitable. There was something wrong with Had on a profound level. What on earth had possessed him to pick up the phone?

“Hey, guys—” he began.

“Don’t worry about it, Had,” Coop cut him off.

“But—”

“The lady said not to worry about it,” Joshua chimed in. “So maybe you should listen to her.” He stopped speaking for a moment, then made a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. “I, on the other hand, think you’re a total mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy,” he shot back.

“Please. You’ve probably never had a relationship with a girl that’s lasted longer than two weeks.”

He was right, but it had nothing to do with Mama. Had was just picky. He had a whole list of things that made up the perfect girl, and so far he hadn’t found her. And he wasn’t willing to settle. A beautiful woman, red hair optional, must love animals and Latin dancing. An appreciation for the indie music scene was vital. Oh, and excellent math skills, of course. That too.

But that was beside the point. Somehow, right now, the combination of Coop being willing to overlook the call and Joshua mocking him for it was perfect. Was Had still embarrassed? Sure. But was he going to obsess over it? Well, yes, but with a little less shame around it than he’d have felt a few minutes before.

They walked through the drab halls of the FBI Academy building, passing by individuals running around, busy with their work. What was amazing to Had was that each person there was a vital part of what made up the FBI, whether they were there as part of one of the units of the actual force, or just in training to get there.

Had was forced to admit to himself that he was jealous. He’d wanted to be an FBI agent since he was in the second grade. The teacher had asked everyone what he or she wanted to be. Most of the guys had said astronauts or video game programmers, but Had had written down FBI agent. Where he’d gotten that at eight years old, he wasn’t sure, but it hadn’t varied since then.

And here all the people were, doing what he had dreamed of almost his whole life. It was possible they didn’t even appreciate it for what it was.

Then a thought struck Had like a tree landing on his head. He was in this building. He was now a vital part of what made up the FBI, at least for the moment. He didn’t have to be jealous. These were all his people.

He started smiling and waving to everyone he passed. Most looked at him like he was nuts, but a few gave him a wave and a grin back. Well, once they recovered from their shock. Had got the feeling that this wasn’t a warm environment most of the time.

“So, here’s the plan,” Coop spoke as they continued through the complex. “We’ll catch a cab into D.C., grab an early lunch and take Joshua shopping.”

“Ooo,” Had added. “I’ve got the perfect guy. Hold on.” He pulled Bilal’s card out of his wallet and started dialing. “He’s awesome; you’ll love him. And he knows D.C. really well.”

“Fantastic,” Joshua muttered. “Sounds like a real winner.”

After contacting Bilal and convincing him to turn around and come back to Quantico… turned out he hadn’t gone all that far yet… Had swiveled around to his companions. These were the people he would be with twenty-four-seven for however long this was going to take. He grinned.

“I am so excited about this.”

Joshua thrust out a hand and stopped Had in his tracks. “Listen. You need to know something. There’s nothing exciting about any of this.”

“I—” Had started. Joshua cut him off.

“You’re about to step into your worst nightmare, and no one’s going to be able to help you get out of it.” He pointed at himself and then at Coop. “Not me, not her, not anyone. Got it?”

Had looked into Joshua’s bloodshot eyes. Those eyes had seen a lot, more than Had’s by a long ways. Underneath all of Joshua’s sarcasm and bite, there was a lot of pain. Had wasn’t unfamiliar with hurt, but here was someone who had taken up residence with that damage and held it to himself as a life-partner.

“Yeah, I got it,” he answered. Joshua turned back around and started walking. Had spoke at his retreating back. “I’m still excited, though. I’m going to be working with you.”

The only acknowledgment from Joshua was a slight tensing of his shoulder muscles. But Had knew that Joshua had heard him.

He had a feeling that the two of them were going to be great friends.

* * *

Sariah was surprised, but at least it was a pleasant experience for once.

Turned out that Had’s friend Bilal surpassed his description. In the forty-five minute ride out to D.C., the Pakistani driver had regaled them with tales from his fifteen years of taxicab service, given them three recommendations for lunch… one cheap, one middle-of-the-road, one expensive… and had almost made Joshua smile. Twice.

“So, we are to be thinking cheap for eating, yes, my friends?” The man’s smile lit up the length of the rear view mirror.

“Hey, I’m not paying for it. I say expensive,” Joshua grumbled from the other side of the seat, where he was pressed up against the passenger side window. “Plus, I’d love to see how the political elite react to the presence of the unwashed homeless in their midst.”

Sariah smiled in spite of herself. No matter what the former agent wanted everyone to believe, she was confident he was just as uncomfortable in his unshowered and tattered condition as anyone else he would meet today.

“We don’t have time for a serious sit-down meal,” Sariah called out. “Not if we’re going to get you some new threads.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing, you elitist pig?” Joshua shot back.

“Had, what do you think?” she asked.

Had thought about it for a second before responding. “I want to go where Bilal goes to eat when he’s grabbing lunch.”

“Ah. That is being a definite treating,” Bilal called back over his shoulder. “I am taking for you to my favorite place.”

“Can’t wait,” grumbled Joshua. “Curried dog and naan.”

“Oh no, my friend.” The driver waved his hands back and forth with energy. “There is not the eating of dogs here. It is forbidden by Allah.”

“Whatever.” He looked out of the window. It seemed clear he was done with the conversation.

“This you will be enjoying,” Bilal assured them.

Sariah watched as Joshua retreated back into his sullen shell. This seemed to be his go-to state. Well that, or pissing everyone around him off. There didn’t seem to be much in between.

Had, on the other hand, seemed to be the former agent’s polar opposite. Right now he was busy chatting with Bilal, happy as a clam.

“And the real reason there’s no J Street is because they hadn’t really locked down the alphabet yet. They thought J was just a poor man’s I or something.”

“I am hearing the man from France, he was not liking a person with the name of J,” Bilal countered.

“Naw. That’s just a conspiracy theory.”

The cab driver grinned. “You are teaching much for someone not ‘big city’.”

Had blushed a bright red. Sariah turned her head to hide her smile, pretending not to have noticed.

They traveled along 18th Street, passing structures made of red brick on both sides. Their driver pulled up alongside the curb in front of what looked like a painting of a huge clown face.

“Amsterdam Falafelshop. It is not to be the only place Bilal is eating, but it is to be a good one.” He gestured to the restaurant right next to the creepy clown grimace. There were two Amsterdam flags flying on either side of a window that opened into the restaurant itself. There were several tables outside in a fenced off courtyard in front.

The trio passed by a banner that proclaimed “FALAFEL AND FRIES” and then walked up the brick stairs to the restaurant above. Joshua began grousing the moment he left the cab and didn’t stop until they stepped through the door.

The inside of the shop was cramped. The walls painted red and pink and off white, with some exposed brick toward the back where the register was. A red counter cut the wall opposite the entrance in half, with stools underneath upon which the crowd of people who had already shown up for the lunch rush at 11:30 were perched. Above the counter was a large collage of pictures, centered around the striking figure of a topless woman. Several black tables were shoved into the narrow room, further constricting the space. It was loud and hot and smelled fantastic.

Dutch and Middle Eastern cuisines were not two that Sariah would have put together, but the size of the crowd and the fragrances drifting through the air were not far from convincing her otherwise. The fare turned out to consist of two essential items: falafel sandwiches and Belgian-style fries. There were no plates or utensils, but there was a toppings bar that sported amongst its offerings red cabbage, hummus and a peanut sauce. They purchased their food, layered on the toppings and sauces and made their way to an empty corner of the counter.

“This is awesome,” Had gushed, speaking around a mouthful of fries. He was grinning from ear to ear, and couldn’t stop looking around at the other people in the small dining area, almost as if he were a tourist and they were historical monuments. Maybe to Had, that’s how it seemed.

“I hate falafel,” Joshua grumbled.

Sariah looked down at the former agent’s sandwich. “Then why is your sandwich already half-eaten?” she demanded.

“What? I’m hungry. I’ll eat dog if I’m hungry enough, no matter what I said earlier.”

“You know, I think that’s the first food I’ve seen you eat. I was beginning to think you lived on alcohol.”

Joshua took another bite of his falafel sandwich. “I do. This place doesn’t serve any. One more piece of evidence of their suckitude.”

That sounded about par for the course when it came to the former agent. She took a bite of her sandwich. It lived up to the review from their cab driver. Some of the best falafel she’d eaten. Glancing over at Had, Sariah saw that he had somehow managed to fall asleep in his Dutch mayonnaise. She prodded him with her elbow.

“Had. Wake up.”

“Huh?” The officer started awake, wiping sauce off of his cheek, which served to spread the condiment over a larger surface area. “Did I fall asleep? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t realize you were so wiped out or I would’ve taken you right to your hotel room.”

“We have hotel rooms? But we’re not going to be here tonight.”

Sariah shrugged. “It was on Agent Tanner’s orders. He wanted to make sure Joshua had somewhere to tidy up.”

“I told you, that’s a deal breaker,” the former agent piped up from her other side.

“You’re not fooling anybody,” Sariah fired back. There was no answer, so she was sure she’d hit pay dirt. She returned her attention to Had. “Anyway, I can drop you off there while Joshua and I go out shopping for some clothes.”

Was it her imagination, or did Had seem disappointed, almost jealous? Then his face got a faraway expression on it for a moment.

“Did any of the body parts have fibers on them?” he asked.

“What?” Sariah took a moment to switch mental gears. “Oh, you mean for the case? Yes, two of them did. Cotton. Appeared to be from the clothes.”

“Did anyone do an analysis of the dye? We might be able to find something out from what they were wearing.”

Sariah was impressed. It was doubtful that would lead to anything concrete, but it was an excellent line of reasoning. Once more, she was grateful she had included Had on the team.

“Great idea. I’ll check on it later. But for now, you need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah. I didn’t get any last night. Too excited.”

She smiled at Had’s enthusiasm, and he grinned back. Joshua might be burned out, sarcastic and jaded, but Hadderly was a breath of fresh air. Sariah had a feeling that they would need that, as they got further into this case.

Grabbing the leftovers of her sandwich, Sariah led the group out of the restaurant. Bilal was there for them with his cab, waiting with breath held for their response to his recommendation. Stepping in before Joshua could say anything, she answered for the whole group.

“It was amazing, Bilal. Thanks.”

“I am happy to be taking you here. And where do we now for going?”

“Our hotel.” She gave him the address and sat back, basking in the air conditioning of the taxicab. She would enjoy it every moment she could. They were headed to South Carolina, even hotter than here. It was shaping up to be a brutal summer.

Was she sick for thinking that at least it would be easier to find the body parts in the endless heat? They would rot, and the smell would lead people to them much faster.

Sometimes the realities of chasing a serial killer made her nauseated.

* * *

The shower was incredible.

Whatever he had pretended back in Tanner’s office, Joshua had nothing against being clean. He didn’t have much access to facilities, so he’d learned to live without. But the act of jumping into the shower before heading out to buy some new clothes was the closest thing to ecstasy he could remember.

And that pissed him off.

This was not suffering. This was not honoring his beloved dead. He was enjoying himself. Eating some of the best falafel he’d ever had. Taking cab rides. Showering in a nice hotel room. Buying new clothes on someone else’s dime. Joshua was more content than he could remember being since his family was torn away from him.

He turned the water to cold, allowing the needles of freezing water to pelt into his skin. It was a cat-o-nine-tails, and Joshua would keep beating himself with it until the pain diminished. The dirt and sweat of the last week circled the drain at his feet, sucked down to the sewers where they belonged. The corrosion of his soul was going nowhere. It would stay right where it was.

That seemed more than appropriate to him.

Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed the floor mat and used that to dry himself off. It was rougher than the towels that had been provided, and he scraped his skin with vigor, turning it red with the friction. That would serve as the shirt of hair.

The thought of putting back on his torn and bloody clothes was repugnant. Therefore, he forced himself to do it. He dragged the shirt on over his head, wincing in pain as the action tugged at his bruised ribs and the fabric caught on his wound.

This was more like it.

Passing by the minibar, Joshua pulled out two bottles of alcohol and downed them without looking to see what they were. Captain Morgan and another Smirnoff. Perfect.

When he stepped out into the hall, Coop was waiting for him.

“Ready?”

Joshua gave a bark of bitter laughter. “Are you kidding?”

Agent Cooper shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, I’m just glad you took a shower.”

The first clothing store she tried to take him to, escorted by the annoying Pakistani driver, Joshua rejected out of hand. It was trendy and expensive and he refused to even set foot in the establishment.

Next was a mall. They left after Joshua called the attendant at Hollister “drag queen bait” and security was called.

They were now at a Gap outlet, and while he was still annoyed, Joshua was at least finding some t-shirts and jeans. Coop was off to the side, her mouth set in a hard line and her foot tapping. Joshua was doing a great job as far as he could tell.

“You know that we’re going to be interacting with the public, right?” she asked.

“Whatever.”

“No, not whatever,” Agent Cooper snapped back. She took a deep breath and held it for a second before continuing. “We have to look like law enforcement.”

“I’m undercover.”

She got out her phone and looked at the time, then back at Joshua. “I’m the one with the card, so I’m not sure why you think you have any say in this.” She set her phone down on top of a display for a moment while she looked at a button down shirt.

The phone buzzed, vibrating on the hard surface. It moved toward the edge, almost falling to the ground before Joshua scooped it up and answered.

“Agent Cooper’s phone,” he spoke into the receiver, as Coop moved toward him, hand outstretched to take the cell away from him.

“Ah… Joshua?” It was Agent Tanner. “Where’s Agent Cooper?”

“She’s around here somewhere. Didn’t you want to ask if I managed to take a shower? I was going to, but when I was taking off my underwear I found this green spot of rot between my legs…” Before Agent Cooper managed to snatch the phone away from him, Joshua was sure he heard the sound of retching from the other end of the line. Man, that agent really didn’t like talking about personal hygiene. Felt like Joshua had uncovered the super agent’s kryptonite.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Coop spoke into the phone, glaring at Joshua. “What did you need?” There was a pause, then, “Yes, sir. Will do.” She ended the call.

“What was that about? Checking up on my blood-alcohol level? It’s point-two-oh, by the way. Oh, and how’s that monitor treating you?” He pointed down at her ankle.

Agent Cooper peered at him, maybe looking for a scrap of decency. Boy, was she going to be disappointed. Whatever she seemed to find didn’t keep her from answering.

“There was another body part found. A leg this time. Out in Virginia.”

“We headed there first?”

“No,” she responded. “We’ll fly there from South Carolina, then rent a car and drive back to Quantico.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ve already lost interest.” He picked up another t-shirt.

Grabbing the shirt out of his hands, Coop stalked over to the nearest rack of dress shirts and pulled out three of them. She handed them to him.

“You try on these. I’ll bring you slacks.”

“I’m not going—”

She cut him off with a flourish. “Try them on, or I clear out the rest of the alcohol from your minibar.”

Joshua thought for a moment, then took the shirts and headed toward the back. Whatever else she might or might not be doing, Agent Cooper was not playing fair.

He had also never had more respect for her than he did right now.

* * *

When Sariah got Joshua back to the hotel, several sets of clothing heavier, the first thing she saw when she entered into the foyer was Had, chatting with the concierge. From what she could tell, he’d never made it up to his room.

“Had, you were supposed to be sleeping,” she chided the cop.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He motioned to the man behind the desk. “But Robert’s from South Africa. South Africa! He’s got the coolest accent I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s great, but I need you on your A game when we get to South Carolina.”

“It’s okay. I’ll just sleep on the plane.”

Sariah sighed. “The flight’s only an hour and a half.”

“That’s more than enough,” Had assured her. He waved to his new friend at the desk and followed Sariah out to the rooms. “There are not as many lions in South Africa as I would’ve thought, but they have them in parks and stuff. They do have leopards, though. And not any elephants, either. Weird, right?”

“Yes. Weird.”

Had continued to talk about the various species of South African animals all through the cab ride out to the airport, during which Bilal gave them a card for his cousin who drove a cab in Charleston. The young cop didn’t stop as they went through the line at security and he was still going without a pause while they hit the gift shop to pick up some snacks for the flight.

And it didn’t stop there.

“They do have monkeys, but only one main species,” he stated with emphasis as they walked toward their gate.

“Shut up,” Joshua muttered, holding his head.

Had turned back to Sariah. “And you’d think they were everywhere, but it’s only in certain parts of the country.”

“Shut. Up.” Joshua’s voice was a little stronger this time.

“And there are like no gazelles down there. Don’t you think that’s freaky?”

A form flew past Sariah, ramming into Had, pushing the cop up against the nearest wall. A fist flew into Had’s face, whipping his head around with a snap.

It was Joshua.

“I said shut up. What part of that did you not understand?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sariah grappled with Joshua, pulling him away from the battered young man. Joshua pulled out of her grasp, stalking away from both of them. She moved closer to Had, who was touching his face, testing out the red mark that Joshua’s fist had left. “You okay, Had?”

He winced as one of his pokes seemed to find a sore spot. “Yeah,” he muttered, his tone sheepish.

“Do you want to press charges?” Sariah pitched her voice loud enough so that Joshua could hear it.

“What? No.” Had laughed at her question. “That’s was just brother kinda stuff. He asked me to be quiet; I wouldn’t shut my trap.” He got a wistful look on his face. “I think we’re really starting to get close.”

Sariah just shook her head. They moved off toward their gate, and there were no further incidents of violence before they were called to board the plane.

Moving through the cabin of the airplane, Joshua went straight to his seat, put some plugs Sariah had purchased for him at the airport into his ears and turned toward the window, shutting out the rest of the world. Had, on the other hand, began greeting everyone that passed, apologizing for his carryon bag and making cooing noises at the babies. Sariah was sure she had never seen a greater disparity between personality types in her life.

As they neared Had’s seat, his phone rang with the theme music to Psycho. He whipped out his cell, using his other hand to try to get his bag into the overhead compartment. His tone was exasperated, but less pressured than the last time Sariah had seen him answer a call.

“Mama, I’m on a plane right now. Not a good time to talk.” He made a face at Sariah, apologizing with his gestures for the call. “I know you told me about dinner, but… No! Why would I be at home? I’m working for the FBI And I don’t sit around in my tighty-whities.” There was a pause while he listened, then he spoke again. “That was one time. And it was one hundred degrees. Inside the house.”

Sariah was about to move down the aisle to clear the walkway when Had waved at her to stay. There were passengers lining up behind them, so she moved down into her row of seats to let them past. Had was now seated in his aisle seat, still talking to his mother.

“No, I don’t want to talk to her. Well, I’m sorry, but I told you not to invite her over. Mama. Mama…” He looked over at Sariah and spoke to her. “Would you please talk to my mother? I don’t think she’s gonna let this one go until she has some proof.”

She took the phone from Had and lifted it to her ear. “Mrs. Hadderly?”

“Ms. Hadderly, honey. I’m not married.”

“Of course. Ms. Hadderly. This is Special Agent Sariah Cooper speaking.”

“Uh huh.” It was clear from her tone that she didn’t believe a word Sariah was saying. “You datin’ my boy, Special Agent Cooper?”

“No ma’am, I am not.”

“Well, why not? You’re helpin’ him lie to me, might as well get some lovin’ on the side.”

“I’m not lying, ma’am. I really am an agent with the BAU”

“Right. So, what’s your badge number? Huh? Gimme the name of your supervisor. Then we can get to the bottom of this. Y’all think you’re so smart.”

“I don’t—” Sariah began.

“Sweetness, I am sittin’ here in my house with a lovely young woman and more brisket than I can shake a stick at. Now who do you think’s to blame for this situation here?”

“Ma’am—”

“Sugar, you better just hand the phone back to my son. If he wants me to believe his stories, he’s gonna have to do better than you.”

Sariah handed the phone back to Had, wondering just what the hell his mother had meant by that last statement. Did she not sound like she could be an agent?

Once the cell was back in his hands, Had ended the call with, “Mama, have fun with my date. Love you. Bye.” And the call was done.

He looked over at Sariah. Sariah stared back at him. After a moment she lifted an eyebrow at him.

“You wear tighty-whities?”

Had blushed. “Boxers are weird. It’s like you’re putting on clothes under your clothes. I never understood how anyone could wear them.”

“Well, I hear the others can make you sterile.”

“Really?” His eyes got big. “Is that true?”

“Who knows? Maybe you should look it up.” She grinned at him, then gave him a much more serious expression. “Now, it’s time for you to get some sleep.”

“Right. Right. Sleep. On it, boss.”

Now that most of the passengers had boarded, it looked like Sariah’s row was unoccupied except for her. So rather than put her carryon above her in the overhead bin, she placed it on the seat next to her. If someone else were to sit down, she could always move it. She settled into her chair, doing what she could to get comfortable. She hated flying so much.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Had was striking up a conversation with the Mexican woman next to him. She was laughing at something he’d just said, showing all of her teeth. The man had a talent for introductions. Sariah found that she was a bit jealous of that ability.

Peering up toward the front of the plane, she watched as Joshua started speaking with one of the flight attendants. The conversation heated up fast, and before long there were strong gestures accompanying Joshua’s words, which got louder and louder the further along the discussion continued.

“I have to wait until the plane takes off? What, will the alcohol explode at sea level?” Joshua’s face was turning a darker shade as his volume increased.

There was a quieter response from the attendant, which Sariah couldn’t hear. The hapless woman appeared to be doing all she could to keep the situation from escalating.

“Look. I have money. Well, actually, she has money. Back there.” To Sariah’s chagrin, Joshua pointed back at her. She was now connected to his temper tantrum.

“I’m sorry,” the woman now spoke with enough volume that both could hear, “but you’re going to have to wait until service begins.”

“Of course,” Sariah replied, giving Joshua a glare. “Our apologies.”

“I’m not apologizing. I want a drink,” he shot back, giving as good as he was getting in terms of hard looks.

“Sir, if you don’t calm down and put on your seat belt, I’m afraid I’ll have to call the Marshall.”

“Whatever.” Joshua sat back and popped his earplugs back in. Sariah hoped that would be the end of it, but she would keep an eye on him during the flight, just to make certain there were no further incidents. If that man wasn’t careful, he would end up in prison before long.

She pulled out her tablet, setting it to airplane mode. There was an hour and a half before they would touch down in Charleston. More than enough time to get some work in. Once they got there, it would be non-stop dealing with the local authorities, and her experience in the south had not been pleasant to date. A Black woman couldn’t possibly be any good as an agent, could she? It was getting better, and Charleston wasn’t a tiny little hick town by any stretch, but it was still the south.

The only problem she had now was to convince herself that they were wrong in their assessment. A tiny voice that still managed to make itself heard loud and clear was yelling they were right, they were right, they were right.

She spent most of the flight trying to yell them down.

CHAPTER 7

“This is awesome!” Had enthused as he entered his hotel room, wrestling his three suitcases in with him. It had been a bit of a challenge getting them all up here at once, but he had persevered, and now wouldn’t have to make a second trip.

The excitement sang through his body. He was in Charleston, South Carolina! Okay, he was in a hotel room that looked like any other hotel room in any other city in any other state in the U.S., but still… it was a city he’d never been to before.

Had called over his shoulder to Joshua. “Did you know that the first game of golf played in America was here in Charleston?” He’d looked it up when he found out they were coming here.

The room had that specific scent common to every hotel. A combination of stale coffee, bleach and recycled air. It was a non-smoking room in a mid-level chain hotel, so it didn’t have the additional tang of old cigarette smoke. But other than that alteration to the smell, if he closed his eyes, Had could have been staying at the Motel 6 down the road from him in Ann Arbor. They said it was smoke-free, but who were they kidding?

Opening his eyes, there were definite differences. The Holiday Inn was a clear step up from Motel 6. Bigger rooms, nicer bedspreads… and was that an Ethernet connection port? He’d already set up his phone with the wireless, but the port would be more stable for when he was using his laptop. Sweet.

And since there was a huge convention going on and rooms had been scarce, he and Joshua had been put together in a room. That meant that he would have a chance to get to know his new teammate. There were all kinds of things that Had was dying to ask.

“I didn’t know that fascinating little golf fact, and I’m still missing the ‘awesome’ part,” came a voice from the entryway.

Joshua walked into the room with his one small duffle bag, which he threw on the bed nearest the door. He then made a straight line for the minibar. Throwing open the door, he sighed in relief as he studied the contents of the small cooling device. Whatever he’d found there seemed to have made him… well, not happy, but at least content.

It became clear a moment later when he backed away from the bar, gripping a mini bottle of whiskey. In one fluid movement he twisted off the top and poured the liquid down his gullet, letting out a groan of pleasure.

“Well, it’s awesome for me, at least,” Had replied. “I’d only been out of Michigan once before today, and now I’ve been in two states in less than twelve hours.”

Joshua grunted as he sat down on the bed, grabbing the TV guide on the nightstand and giving it a once over. “Technically, D.C.’s a district, not a state.”

“Oh, I know that. I’m talking about Virginia. You know, Quantico.”

“Right. How could I forget?” Joshua grabbed the remote and turned on the television, flipping through the channels. He would pause long enough to register what was on before moving to the next. Once he’d cycled through all the channels, he turned off the set and rubbed his hands over his face. “Thirteen years with little to no television, and there’s still nothing good on.”

Had swiped the guide off the ground where Joshua had tossed it and glanced through the pamphlet. “Says that Modern Family is on in a few minutes. Love that show. You should check it out.”

The response from the other side of the room was somewhere between a grunt and a cough. Hey, at least it was a response. An idea sparked in Had’s brain.

“I know what we could do. We could play a get-to-know-you game.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Joshua responded with no change in tone. He had lain back in the bed with the pillows propped up under his head and had closed his eyes.

“What if we just talked?” There was no way that Had was going to waste this opportunity. There was so much amazing experience locked away in the brain that reposed mere feet away from him.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, thanks,” the former agent said, giving the statement a finality that would’ve ended the conversation for most people. Had, however, was not most people. He’d backed off for the moment, but if Joshua though that was going to be the end of it, he was in for a surprise.

Had surveyed the rest of the room, his eyes landing on a room service menu for the Meeting Room, the restaurant downstairs. Another idea burst into his mind. Joshua had to eat, right?

“Want to order some food? There’s room service and everything.”

Joshua groaned and pushed himself upright. “Let me guess. You’ve never had room service before.”

“Nope. First time.”

Grabbing the menu from Had, Joshua perused the offerings and then handed it back. “They’ve got some drinks here. Pretty girly, but what the hell. Order me the sausage with black mustard, the coulotte steak and five of the… whatever they call their martinis.”

Had choked a bit. “Five?”

“You heard me.”

“Okay.”

He called down and put Joshua’s order in. He then ordered for himself the shrimp and grits with chorizo, the fried oysters and the sea scallops. With a bottle of beer. It seemed like a lot of food, but he was hungry.

Settling in to wait for the food, Had turned on the TV and made his way over to the episode of Modern Family that was running. It was a rerun… the one where Phil and Clare try to throw a birthday party for Luke.

It was most of the way through the episode. Haley had set loose the scorpion, the scorpion had scared Cameron-as-Fizbo, who then scared Phil who was terrified of clowns. In between laughing fits, Had heard a strangled sound coming from the other side of the room.

Glancing over at Joshua, Had was shocked to see tears running down his cheeks. The former agent was shaking, his face red and blotchy.

“Are you okay?” Had asked, concerned. Maybe there was something about the show that was reminding Joshua of his own family.

Holding up his hand, Joshua nodded, trying to get control of his breathing. After a moment or two, he pointed at the screen and sputtered out, “This… this is really funny.”

He was laughing. Joshua was laughing so hard he was crying.

This really was awesome.

There was a knock at the door. Their food had arrived. Had ran to the door and flung it wide, almost gasping as he saw the trays and platters of food. This was so exciting. The waiter moved in as Had backed his way into the room. Had smiled at the man, who was still standing there.

The waiter smiled back and cleared his throat.

Had nodded at him. “Gesundheit. Or whatever you say for a cough.”

“He’s waiting for a tip,” Joshua spoke, wiping the tears off of his cheeks.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” His smile stretched into a grin as he looked around for his wallet. “First time.”

The waiter nodded as Had placed a twenty into his hand. He should’ve known enough to tip the guy, but Had had been so thrilled to see all the food, that everything else had gone out of his head. The door closed behind the server, and Had turned back to face Joshua, who already had one of the vagabond martinis in his hand.

“Let’s dig in.” Had pulled the lids off the trays and inhaled the aroma of the food. They were breaking bread together. There was no way Joshua could resist the combination of good food, good company and a little bit of alcohol.

It was going to be a great night.

* * *

Sariah was up, showered and ready to go by 7:30. She headed over to the boys’ room, hoping against hope that things had gone well last night. From what she had observed of these two so far, she was putting the odds of that pretty low.

As she approached the door, she saw the remains of their evening meal outside the door on a cart. Some fat from a steak sat hardening on the top of a stack of plates, next to an empty beer bottle and five martini glasses. She frowned, then did a double-take. One of the martini glasses wasn’t empty. There were a few drops left at the bottom of the glass.

That couldn’t be right. She leaned down and dipped a finger in the fluid that remained at the bottom, lifting the finger up to catch the scent of the liquid. It was what smelled like the remains of a vodka martini. Dirty.

What the hell had taken place last night that had kept an alcoholic from licking the glass to get the last few precious molecules of the good stuff? From Sariah’s experience, that never happened.

Scenario after horrific scenario flickered through her mind as she steeled herself to knock on the door. After only a moment or two, Had answered, fully dressed in a shirt and tie with a huge grin stretching from one side of his face to the other.

“Good morning, Coop!”

“Had,” she replied, nodding. Trying to peer around him, she asked, “Where’s Joshua? Is he up?”

“Oh, he’s not here.” Had looked around, almost as if he didn’t trust his own statement. “He was up way before me, I think. Doesn’t sleep much, does he? Must’ve gone down for breakfast or something.”

“Yeah, he’s a regular night-owl-slash-early-bird, our Joshua is.” Sariah pointed into the interior of the room. “Mind if I come in?”

“Sure. Hold on a sec.” He let the door close, and Sariah heard the sounds of him scurrying around the room before he returned. This time, he swung the door wide. “Just needed to straighten up a bit.”

There were no signs of a fight in the room, and Had appeared to be fine. She swiveled her head around the space as she sat down on the just-made bed. All indicators were that nothing bad had occurred, but Sariah had to ask.

“Did… Were you… How did things go last night?”

Had grinned. “Great! We had some awesome room service, watched TV and talked!” He seemed proud of himself. If what he was saying was accurate, she’d be proud of herself, too.

“You talked?”

“Yeah. It was great.”

“And were those martinis yours?” Sariah asked, pointing her thumb toward the entrance where the room service cart was.

“Oh, no,” Had shook his head, appearing mortified at the thought. “I only had a beer.”

“The martinis were Joshua’s, then?”

“Yeah.”

“All five?”

He nodded. “Man, can he put it away. Between that and the minibar, he must’ve had six or seven.” Had paused to think for a moment. “Maybe eight.”

“Wow.” That was a lot of alcohol. Then she had a thought that maybe could explain the leftover drops. “So you cut him off?”

“No. He said you guys had an arrangement or something.” He shrugged. “Figured I’d check it through with you this morning. I would’ve done something if he’d gotten out of hand, but he hardly seemed drunk at all.”

“And you guys just talked?”

“Yeah.” Had paused for a moment, looking like he was thinking. “Well, I guess I did most of the talking, come to think of it. He mostly just listened.”

“But he actually listened to you? That’s something.”

“Well, that and glared,” Had amended. “But only once or twice. And there was no punching.”

“Sounds like a great time.”

“Hey, if he thinks he’s going to get to me with just looks, it’s only because he’s never met my mama. She could strip the paint off furniture with the glares she gives.”

“That’s quite an image. Well,” Sariah slapped her hands against her thighs and stood up. “Ready to head down?”

“Sure thing. You eating breakfast?” Had patted his belly. “I’m still full from last night.”

“No. I’ve talked to the captain over at the local precinct. We’ll head over there to see what the M.E. has found, and then on to the site.” As she turned around, her leg brushed up against the bed. She felt the lump of the monitor there at her ankle. “Oh, hey, hold on a sec.” Sariah reached down and took the band off, rubbing at where the monitor had chafed her skin.

“What’s that?” Had asked, surprised. “You on house arrest?”

“It’s a blood-alcohol monitor.” She looked up to see the look on Had’s face. “It was supposed to be for Joshua, but…” Sariah grimaced and switched the monitor to her other leg. “You can take it off every 48 hours, so that it doesn’t leave sores.”

“And you’re wearing it because…?”

“Have you seen Joshua? Do you really think he could function without it?”

Had seemed to think that over for a bit. “Good call.” He then changed gears so fast that Sariah almost got whiplash. “Hey, did you know that Porgy and Bess from that Gershwin musical are buried out on James Island? Cool, right?”

Seeing as how she had no response to that at all, Sariah just nodded. As they left the room, she glanced once more at the alcohol at the bottom of the glass. There had to be an explanation. Wet glasses and alcoholics just didn’t go together. Maybe he’d just passed out? That had to be it.

It was the only conclusion that made sense.

* * *

Joshua’s head throbbed in time with the Indian techno music that blared out of the speakers of the cab. Kashif, Bilal’s cousin, managed to take his relative’s annoying enthusiasm and raise it to a whole new level. The driver smacked his gum in time to the music, the car dancing with an enthusiasm that left Joshua feeling as if the energy had been sucked out of the taxicab by force.

At least his command of the English language was superior to his older cousin’s back in D.C. Although he did seem to have learned it by watching old Tyler Perry films.

“Yo, dawgs, y’all headed out to hang with the popo? That’s wack, bitches.”

Glancing at Agent Cooper, Joshua watched as she gave the driver an insincere smile and then heaved a big sigh. The cab ride was only supposed to be twenty minutes long. It felt like an eternity.

Kashif dropped them off in front of the police station on Lockwood Drive, assuring them that he would be back to pick them up the second they called him. Joshua was tempted to find the business card Bilal had given Had and rip it into tiny shreds.

The mix of coffee and Irish whiskey that Joshua had consumed this morning with his breakfast were battling it out with the bacon, eggs and toast he’d also managed to put away. He’d eaten more food in the last day than he’d had in the past seven days combined, and his body had no idea what to do with it.

The concrete staircase leading up to the Charleston Police Department stretched in front of him, the air shimmering in the heat reflected off of the stone surface. He was already sweating, had been since he’d stepped out of the shower this morning at 4:30. He’d put on some clothes and waited out in the lobby until the restaurant had opened at five. He’d been finished for more than two hours when Had and Coop finally got there.

This all felt too familiar. Working for the BAU, Joshua had made his way around the nation, stopping off at one law enforcement building after another. He’d trekked across the country, tracking down serial killers, assisting in cases that had the local authorities stymied.

And here he was, doing it again.

He had to admit, having a bed to sleep in and food to eat was nice. Having a conversation with someone who wasn’t coming down from on high to talk to the homeless guy was also pleasant.

It all tasted like guilt to Joshua.

There was no way he should be enjoying himself. It was not supposed to be part of this equation. He couldn’t go back, that was clear from what had happened back in the alley with the girl.

But what the hell was he doing here?

The act of climbing the stairs left him winded. Agent Cooper and Officer Hadderly seemed to be more than fine, but even they had a sheen of sweat on their brows. Man it was hot. This heat made summer in Manhattan feel like a trip to the spa.

Had opened one of the double doors that led to the interior, holding it for Coop and Joshua. As he passed by the young cop, Had slapped him on the shoulder with a certain amount of familiarity. Joshua would have to do something about that. Getting too close to Joshua was like swimming in an oil slick. You were going to come away dirty.

No one deserved that, least of all Had.

The cool air from inside swept around Joshua as he entered the building, giving him a momentary chill as his body adjusted to the change in temperature. Maybe if he was lucky, Joshua’d end up catching a cold or something. That would make sure he stayed miserable while he was working this case.

“Where’s the morgue?” Agent Cooper asked the lady at the front desk. She was large, with a hairdo that made her look that much larger. Her face was slathered in makeup, her lips a bright fire engine red.

“Downstairs and to the right,” the woman answered, her voice colored by a pleasant southern drawl.

“Thanks,” Coop responded, catching Had by the shoulder as he started toward the woman. Joshua could only guess that he had been about to start a conversation with her. When it came to interpersonal intercourse, the guy was insatiable. Joshua thought back to the previous evening. How much had he told the young cop? Couldn’t have been much. It was all a bit of a blur.

The morgue was even colder, and Joshua was beginning to wish he’d dressed more warmly. Insane, of course, in South Carolina, but if he had any say in it, they weren’t going to be staying long down here.

“Ah, the group from Quantico,” a florid, grey-haired man in a white lab coat called out from the opposite side of the room. The team moved into the open space occupied by carts of bodies covered in sheets.

“Dr. LeCheminant. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.” Agent Cooper said, holding out her hand to shake his. He held up his gloved hands as explanation for why he didn’t return the gesture.

“Well, darlin’. That’s my job, now isn’t it?” Somehow, the casual way he addressed Coop was somehow inoffensive. There was an ease in the way he spoke and held himself that indicated that anyone and everyone would get the same treatment, male or female, Black or White. This was one of the genteel folk from this part of the country. The M.E. might be sexist. He might be racist. But he wasn’t going to get all up in arms about either one.

“What were you able to find?” Coop prompted, following the man over to a table where a disembodied hand rested.

“Nothing much, I’m afraid. The DNA matched the results of the samples your colleagues over at the BAU sent me.” The M.E. moved over to the far side of the table to allow room for the three to congregate.

“Was it frozen, like the others?” Had asked, his expression more serious than Joshua had seen it so far.

“Yessir, it was indeed,” Dr. LeCheminant assented. “But this one was in a much more deteriorated state. Been there in the sandbox area of the park at least a month without being disturbed, I’d guess.”

The hand did look to be much more decomposed than the other body parts Agent Cooper had shown him. Rigor appeared to have set in with the hand in a strange position, the index finger extended, with the other fingers still closed for the most part. It was almost as if the victim had been gripping something.

“Anything else?” Coop prompted.

“Nothing else of note. No other particulates. No defensive wounds. Just a hand that looks like it was taken off using a hacksaw.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll go up and speak to the captain before we head out to the crime scene. We may swing back by here afterward.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ anywhere, darlin’,” drawled the examiner. As the trio began to file out, the doctor called after them, “Oh, and you’re gonna want to watch out for the captain. He doesn’t take too kindly to your kind.”

Agent Cooper whipped around. “You mean Black people?”

The M.E. chuckled, the movement shaking his large frame. “Well, I meant women, but sure, darlin’. That works too, I suppose.”

Joshua wanted to rub his hands together in anticipation. There was a showdown about to happen right in front of him. He couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen next.

CHAPTER 8

When Had first saw Captain Blake, it was like the man had stepped right out of the Dukes of Hazzard. He was short, squat and fat. It was Boss Hogg incarnate, and Had couldn’t help but look around for Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane.

As the man swaggered over to the group, it appeared he was avoiding direct eye contact with Agent Cooper. Awkward, seeing as how she was the leader of the band.

And Coop hadn’t missed it, either. She moved to plant herself right in front of the captain, extending her hand to shake his. “Captain Blake, correct? We spoke on the phone earlier.”

He continued to avoid her for a moment, until it became clear that there was no graceful way out of the situation. The handshake he offered her was as short as it could be without inciting a riot.

“Agent Cooper.” The captain’s smile was more of a grimace made by an animal, all tension and bared teeth. “Didn’t you get the directions I sent you by email? They should’ve been simple enough to follow.”

“Oh, I got the email, Captain. I just wanted to stop by to introduce myself and perhaps talk to some of the officers who were first on the scene.”

“Well, listen,” the heavyset man said with a touch of condescension. “I’d have to go look up the records to see who all was there. I think you can understand that I’ve got better things to do than to track them all down.”

Joshua stepped in at that point, his tone dry as the Sahara. “Better things than tracking down a serial killer? Charleston must be a hell hole.”

“It was my understandin’ that this was a federal case,” the captain shot back. “I ain’t got the manpower to be helping the feds putter around looking for body parts that ain’t gonna be there.”

“And it was my understanding that we were all on the same side, Captain,” Agent Cooper replied, her face blank.

“That was before you showed up and started messin’ with my people, screwin’ up our timetable, makin’ things difficult.”

“And what, exactly, made things more difficult, Captain?” Coop’s tone had sharpened, honed down to a laser point. Had found it scary… and kinda hot. It really was too bad that she didn’t seem to have any interest in math. Or Latin dance. Or animals. “Was it the fact that I’m younger than you? Or that I’m a woman? Or that I’m Black?”

“Now look here, missy, I’m not—” he started.

“You will address me as Agent Cooper,” she snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Call me ‘missy’ again, and I’ll report you for harassment.”

Much as he hated to do so, Had stepped between the two and held up his hands. “Captain, if we can do all the legwork ourselves, are you okay with us talking to your personnel? You know, as long as we aren’t bugging them.”

Captain Blake took a small pace back, sizing Had up as he did so. “Well… I can’t see how that’d be too much of a problem, son. But make sure you aren’t keeping them from what they’re supposed to be doing.”

“Absolutely, sir. We’ll stay out of everyone’s way as much as possible.”

The captain grunted, waving them off with his hand. “See that you do.”

As they walked away, Coop leaned in and whispered, “Thanks. Things could’ve gotten bad fast if you hadn’t stepped in. I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that.”

“You kidding?” Had answered back. “The guy’s an ass. Watching you take him down would’ve been one of the greatest pleasures of my life.”

“Then what—?”

“I just figured we might have to keep working with the guy. Hate to see Humpty stay out there because of a dickwad like that.”

Agent Cooper gave him a long look. “You’re a good guy, Had. And a good cop.”

The compliment heated up Had’s ears. But what surprised him even more was the look Joshua was giving him.

He might have been crazy, but Had could’ve sworn it looked an awful lot like respect. Grudging respect, but respect just the same.

Had did what he could to keep his feet from floating off the ground.

* * *

Sariah looked out over the crime scene and sighed. A children’s playground should have children in it, playing and laughing. Not crime scene tape. And not random disembodied hands.

The local police had gone over the scene with a fine-toothed comb, looking for the rest of the body that they’d been positive must have been there. It made searching for new clues difficult. There were pictures, of course, but it was a challenge to know whether or not things had been disturbed. The investigators would have no idea what they were looking for, seeing as how they didn’t know the specific case.

“According to the crime scene photos, this is where the hand was found,” she said, pointing to an area in the sand that was marked off. “Any ideas, Joshua?”

The former agent squinted against the sun, looking for all the world like this was the last place on earth he wanted to be. Pulling out one of the bottles of alcohol from the hotel, he held it up for her to see.

“I’m just here for the free booze.”

That sounded about right. She reached down to scratch at the monitor around her ankle. Man, it itched. Maybe taking it for him had been a bad idea. Joshua watched her motion, winked, and tipped the bottle toward her like he was clinking glasses for a toast.

Had peered down into the depression in the sand where the hand had been. “Burying the hand in a playground? Guy’s sick.”

“Yeah, most serial killers are,” Joshua muttered back, moving toward the shade of the playground structure. He paused, tilting his head back to down his tiny bottle. Hell. Maybe it was time to just buy him the real stuff. Sariah could only guess what the minibar charges were going to end up being.

Joshua stopped before he got to the slides. He peered around, looking over and under the structure, his face pulled into a frown. Well, a deeper frown than he wore most of the time.

Sariah called out to him. “See something?”

“No… Yeah. Maybe.”

“Care to share?”

Joshua passed a hand across his face, pulling at the skin. “I dunno. There’s something… weird about this crime scene.”

“You mean other than the fact that it’s in a playground?” Had chimed in.

“Yeah. Well, actually, no. That’s part of it.” The former agent seemed distracted, seeing, but not quite seeing his surroundings. “Every other time, Humpty would bury the parts somewhere a little less... I dunno… traffic-y.”

Sariah thought about that for a moment. The last one, up in Ann Arbor, had been in a garden. Not private, but with much less traffic than this place. The part had been buried farther down in the ground, as well.

And every other scene was similar. A public, but unused area. A campsite down towards Stone Mountain, but one that didn’t have potable water. A trail up in the Smokies. An area off the freeway, underneath an overpass. All public, and all easy to access, but nothing along these lines.

“You’re right,” she concurred. “There is a significant difference between this site and the others. But what do you think it means?”

“No clue.” Joshua stood, his gaze distant.

“Hey, guys. Taking about weird…” Had spoke up. “Did that hand seem strange to anyone else?”

Joshua came out of his stupor. “It was a hand not attached to a body. Of course it seemed strange.”

“No, I mean…” Had seemed to be groping for words. “The way it was curled up and stuff. Like it was holding something.”

“That’s true.” Sariah thought back. Were any of the other parts off in any way? “It seems like all of the other pieces presented with normal alignment.”

“That’s just rigor,” Joshua retorted.

“Yeah, okay, but rigor sets in because the hand was in that position, right?” Had asked. “I mean, it couldn’t have frozen that way just because.”

“What would he have been holding?” Sariah asked.

Joshua had that far-away look again. “Not holding… pointing.”

“Pointing?”

“Let me see the picture of how the hand was found.” He trotted over to Sariah, reaching for her tablet. He swiped through the photos, his sun-slash-booze headache gone from all appearances.

“We can’t know if the girl turned it around after she unearthed it,” Sariah cautioned.

“It was a hand without a body,” he spoke without taking his attention away from the screen. “She’s a girl. She wouldn’t have touched it after it came to the surface.”

He peered at the tablet, turning it this way and that to orient it to the environment. Then he took off, pacing his way toward the playground structure.

“This way. Look around.”

“For what?” she asked.

“Anything weird.”

That was specific. But she looked anyway. Something had taken over Joshua. It was like he wasn’t even the same person he’d been just a few minutes ago. He bent over, searching under the slides, looking at the surface of the plastic playground.

“Guys,” Had called out from several yards off to the side. He was gazing at something there, three feet off the ground, against the side of one of the ladders leading up to the top of the structure. “You need to see this.”

Sariah moved over to his side, Joshua right behind her. Looking where Had was pointing, it took a moment for her to see it. There were scratches dug into the surface of the plastic. Scratches that spelled out something.

Joshua cursed and stumbled backward, sand churning up beneath his feet as he fell down. He crabbed his way farther back, doing all that he seemed to be able to do to get as far away as possible.

Turning back to the scratches, Sariah picked out what they said. And now she understood the former agent’s panicked response. When the meaning of the engraved phrase entered her consciousness, it was hard even for her to remain calm. It was a message from the killer. A message directed at a member of their team… a former BAU agent who had made it his mission to take the criminal down.

Welcome back, Joshua. It’s been a long time.

* * *

Had wasn’t sure what he should do. After Joshua’s initial reaction, he had shut down. He hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t moved. Even his blinking was slowed down to the point it almost wasn’t happening. And Had didn’t blame him. Not for a moment.

They had placed him in the shade, away from the engraved message. No need to keep that one fresh in his mind. And now, Had and Sariah were mapping out plans for the next few hours and days.

The convention had ended, so more rooms at the hotel had opened up. They’d be able to put Joshua in a room on his own, to let him recuperate. But there were other considerations… things that needed to get done. And having Joshua almost comatose was not on the agenda.

“We need to map out the places each of the body parts was found, see if there’s some kind of link,” Coop was saying.

Had nodded, thinking of the ways in which he could help. But his mind kept going back to the etchings on the surface of that play structure. How would Had react if he’d gone through the same thing? His mind drew a blank. There was no way for him to get even a small part of what must be going on in Joshua’s mind.

“Had. Had. Had.” Agent Cooper’s voice broke through his reverie.

“Sorry. I just—”

“I get it. I feel bad for him, too. But we’ve got to figure out how to handle things without him for the next little while. Anybody’s guess how long he’ll stay like that.”

“Like what?” came a voice from behind them. It was Joshua.

“Joshua, hey… how are you?” Had asked.

“What, that?” Joshua shrugged, pointing back at the message. “It’ll take more than that to keep me from free liquor. Speaking of which… let’s get back to the hotel.”

“Um… all right…” Agent Cooper responded, nonplussed.

“Look, bitching and crying about it isn’t going to help any. Let’s just… get out of here, okay?”

“Okay,” Coop agreed. She seemed almost as troubled by Joshua’s quick recovery as she had been about his reaction. Had felt the same. There was something too glib… too easy… about the way he was brushing off the experience now.

But, regardless, maybe there was something here they could use. “The fact that the killer knew you were back on the job should mean something, right?”

Sariah was nodding, but Joshua cut off the line of reasoning with a slash of his hand. “All it says is that the killer knew I’d be called in on this. And anyone who knew the history of the case could have figured that out.”

Had could see where that might be true, but it still bothered him. Something about this spoke of a more intimate connection. But without any additional clues, it was a moot point. Information. They just needed more information.

He would just have to see what he could do about that.

* * *

Sariah started awake and glanced at the bedside clock. 1:43 am. What the hell had woken her up?

The answer came a moment later, when the knock on her door was repeated. It was an insistent banging, one with purpose. Not the polite knock that Had might make if he needed to talk to her, but wasn’t sure if she was awake.

Joshua.

Grabbing a robe to throw on over her t-shirt and boxers, she moved toward the door. Looking through the peephole, Sariah was surprised to see the figure of a policeman standing there. Was this part of the harassment from earlier, coming back to haunt her in the wee hours of the morning?

Opening up for the officer, she caught sight of another uniformed cop off to the side, propping up a figure who was leaning against the wall, his close-cropped hair and beard identifying him as the former BAU agent.

He was drunk off his ass.

A thought passed through her mind. If eight drinks hadn’t seemed to affect him the night before, how much must he have drunk tonight?

“Agent Cooper?” the officer asked her.

“Yes.”

“We responded to a call for a drunk and disorderly at a nearby bar. When we got there, this man was trying to put everyone in the bar under arrest. He kept raving about severed hands and wood chippers and brain splatter. It was upsetting the patrons.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Yeah. That stuff might fly in D.C., but this is Charleston. We don’t go in for that kind of sick talk.” The cop glanced over at the inert form propped against the wall. “He also tried to attack several of the other patrons, but was drunk enough that he didn’t do any real damage.”

“I see.”

“One more thing. The identification he had on him wasn’t his. It belonged to a…” The officer held up a wallet and pulled out the driver’s license. “Kyle Hadderly?”

Shit. “That’s one of the other members of my team. I can get it back to him.” She took the billfold the officer held out to her.

“We started to take him in, but he kept insisting that he was working with the FBI and that you’d vouch for him. I’d heard around the precinct that you guys were here working a case, so…”

“Thank you, Officer. I appreciate you taking the time to help figure this out.”

The officer smiled at her. “No problem, ma’am.”

“But there is a problem.”

“Ma’am?”

“I have no idea who this man is.”

The officer goggled at her. “But—”

“Sorry for your troubles, but I think you’re just going to have to take him in.” Sariah gave the man a significant look.

It took a moment, but the policeman caught on. “I see. You want us to throw him in the drunk tank?”

“Yes. I think that would be an excellent idea.” She started to turn around, then had another thought. “Maybe don’t process him. I might recognize him tomorrow morning.”

“Gotcha. Will do, ma’am.” With that, the two cops escorted Joshua down the hall.

Allowing the door to shut behind her, Sariah pulled her robe off and climbed back into bed. Their flight didn’t leave tomorrow until around 12. More than enough time to get Joshua back after he slept off his bender in a cell.

She closed her eyes and drifted back off to sleep in seconds.

CHAPTER 9

Had was tired. Oh, so very, very tired.

But he was done. He’d finished it. It had taken three of those five hour energy drinks to make it through the night, but Had was proud of what he’d accomplished.

And who the hell managed to make it through five hours on one of those little thingies? They should call them five-hour-energy-for-people-who-are-already-insomniacs. False advertising at its worst.

Regardless, all of the through-the-night coding had been worth it. Sure, he was a little punch-drunk now, but he was young. He could take it.

The results of his work meant they could hit the ground running as soon as they got back to Quantico. There would be no futzing around. Had now was in possession of all of the collated data they needed to start bringing in suspects.

As he was gulping down the last of his energy drinks, there was a knock on the door. Room service. Perfect. He was starving.

Turned out it wasn’t room service. It was Coop, looking focused and determined. Come to think of it, that’s how she looked a majority of the time, so this morning wasn’t all that different.

“We need to get down to the station to pick up Joshua.”

Okay, that wasn’t what Had was expecting to hear. “What?”

“He snuck out last night after we got here. Drank half the alcohol in the county from all accounts… and ended up in the drunk tank.” There was a slight hiccup in her speech right before she mentioned the drunk tank. Almost like she was about to say something else but changed her mind.

“Aw, man. I’m sorry, Coop,” Had apologized. “I should’ve been watching out for him”

“How could you have? You were busy sleeping.”

“Well, actually…” Had ushered Agent Cooper into the room.

She took in the pristine condition of the bed and the empty energy drink containers in the blink of an eye. “Had, did you stay up all night?”

He grinned at her. “Yep.”

“Um, Had… Is there a reason you stayed up all night? I thought we’d talked about you getting more sleep.”

“Sure, well, yeah… but check this out.” Had pulled his laptop toward him and called up the program that he’d named Load and Lockup. Punching a few keys, Had displayed a map of the U.S. with dots showing the location of the body parts they’d found to date. The old ones from 13 years earlier were in yellow, the new ones in red.

“What did you do here?” Coop asked.

“I wrote a program!” he answered, jazzed to show her all the features of his new creation. He started to cross-reference the transportation data when Coop stopped him.

“You know there’s already a program that we use for this, right?”

Had felt his excitement deflate like a water balloon into which someone had poked a pin. The elation he had felt drained away with excruciating slowness, trailing a trickle of his liquefied pride behind it.

“Oh,” was all he could manage, after a long moment of awkward silence.

“Had, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. It’s my fault. I should’ve checked.” He shook his head in self-mockery. “It makes sense. Of course you already have a program.”

“There was no way you could’ve known,” Coop soothed, patting his shoulder.

“I could’ve asked,” Had fired back. “Or better yet, stopped to think about the fact that the FBI, one of the greatest law enforcement agencies in the world, might have some rocking software. Stupid.”

“No. Not stupid,” she corrected him, her tone more direct this time. “Sweet. Enthusiastic. Forward-thinking. Some of the very reasons I brought you in to begin with.”

“I just… You said we needed to look for the links, so I thought…” He stopped, shook off his disappointment and grinned up at his boss. “Hey, no biggie, right? It’s only a night’s sleep.”

“Right.” Coop looked over his shoulder at the computer. “Besides, now we don’t have to wait until we get back to Quantico.”

Had was sure she was just trying to make him feel better at this point. It was his guess that she had a similar program she could pull up on her laptop in a moment’s notice. But the fact that she was working so hard to make him feel better was something. In fact, it actually did kinda make him feel better.

“Well, since we’re here, let me show you what else I found.” Had brought up the overlay of the transportation routes he’d been studying last night. “I looked at flight plans, commercial and industrial. There were some common links, but it didn’t account for everything we’d found. Some more significant commonalities with train lines, too, but look at this…” He took down everything but the trucking routes. “Bingo.”

“Wow,” Agent Cooper breathed. “There are a bunch of matches. Going all the way back to the earliest cases.”

“Yep. And check this out.” He clicked on a button, which took them to a page that listed the trucking companies that matched the routes they were looking at. Another click brought up all their current employees of record, and cross-referenced any priors.

A dozen names were left, highlighted in red.

“Wait a minute. Did you…?” She leaned in closer, peering at the screen. “This is better than the software we use.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Come on, Had. That’s not really my style. This is great work.” She pointed at the name in red. “You may have just saved us two to three days here.” Coop gave him a pat on the shoulder before she headed back out of the room.

Had felt a glow of pride begin at his neck and work its way up to the crown of his head. His software, that he’d coded in one night, was better than the FBI’s. He wasn’t sure he bought it one hundred percent, but man it felt good.

Time to get dressed for the day. He picked up his luggage from the floor and pulled out a blue button-up shirt and a tie. And, let’s see… ah, yes. The raw denim jeans. The ones he’d been told made his butt look good. Okay, it had been his mama, but still…

Glancing down at the readout on the screen, he thought through what the next few days would bring. Part of it would be some intense conversations with these men, their names covered in digital red.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

In prison.

Agent Cooper had thrown Joshua in prison.

Okay, she hadn’t actually thrown him in the cell, but she had denied knowing him to the cops, which amounted to the same thing. She may have thought he was so far gone that he wouldn’t know what she did, but he remembered. It was a hazy, warped view of the incident, but it was also the only thing that made sense, considering all the facts.

He was in a jail cell that smelled of alcohol fumes, stale cigarette smoke and piss, with what appeared to be a transgendered prostitute and a frat boy. The college kid must have thought that he had more in common with Joshua than the hooker, because he’d tried several times to strike up a conversation. But after Joshua implied that the only reason the frat guy was in there because he’d tried to take their other cellmate for a “date”, the young man pretty much left him alone.

There was no way for him to know what time it was. There had been even less sleep last night than normal, so his usual wake up time of four to four-thirty couldn’t be calculated. He didn’t own a watch. There was no window to the outside, so he couldn’t gauge by the brightness of the sun. He was just trapped in here with a woman-slash-man-of-the-evening and a rich kid with an expensive haircut wearing Abercrombie & Fitch.

Asshole.

Joshua glanced down at his hands. They were starting to shake. Not a good sign. Bad things were ahead if he didn’t get out of here and find a drink. Fast.

The outer door to the cell area opened with a clang that went straight through Joshua’s head. Well, straight through couldn’t be accurate. If it had gone straight through, there wouldn’t be those nasty echoes still bouncing around inside. He groaned.

“Good morning, Joshua.” Coop’s voice was too loud, too bright, too fake for him to take sitting down. So he stood.

That was a mistake.

He sat back down again. “Is it? I don’t see that it’s either good or a morning from where I sit.”

“I’m here to get you out.”

“Don’t bother,” Joshua responded. “I’m quite enjoying my stay here at Casa Encarcerado. The beds are soft, the food’s amazing, and the company’s positively scintillating.”

“Oh, they have Johnny Walker Red in there, do they?” She held up a tiny bottle and waved it back and forth from the opposite side of the bars. Dammit. It had to be Johnny Walker. How did she know? Coop continued, “I can see that you’re starting to shake. And is that sweat beading up on your brow?”

He wiped at his forehead, appalled to find that there was indeed a sheen of moisture there. “That’s just my passion for this lovely young thing rearing its ugly head.” Pointing at the prostitute, Joshua winked at Agent Cooper and licked his lips. “Join us, why don’t you?”

At that, Coop dropped the false niceties and went back to her more direct tone of voice. “That’s it. I’m done.”

“Done? Is that so?” Joshua grinned at her, in spite of the answering shot of pain it caused in his skull. “You feel up to taking Humpty head on by yourself?”

“No,” she answered. “Not even a little bit. But I’m not alone. I’ve got Had.”

“Yeah, that’s a good one. He’ll just talk the killer to death.”

Coop let out a long sigh. “You punched him, Joshua. You stole his wallet. He worships you and you piss all over him.”

That stopped Joshua, at least for a second. But he got his voice back a moment later. “He shouldn’t.”

“Oh, I agree,” the agent said. “But you need to tell him yourself. In person.”

“Whatever.”

“I came to get you out, you self-obsessed bastard, but if you think I’m going to beg, you’re going to be in there for a very long time.”

She turned on her heel and walked back to the entrance. Joshua held out for all of two steps. It was Johnny Walker Red she was carrying off, after all.

“Wait.”

Pivoting, Coop speared him with a look that could have eaten through stainless steel. Maybe he should’ve just let her walk away.

The ride back to the airport was going to be an interesting one.

* * *

Sariah liked music. Really she did.

But Indian techno? Not so much.

She had been all for just calling the cab company, bringing in the first driver who was available. But Had pulled out his cell and dialed for what’s-his-name before she had a second to contest the decision.

“Shawty’s headin’ back to her crib? My heart be breakin’, yo.” The driver waggled his eyebrows at her in the rear-view mirror. Kebab, was that his name?

“Yeah, sucks to be you,” Joshua muttered, staring out the window. They were the first words he’d spoken since she pulled him out of his cell that morning.

“Y’all have been so bitchin’. Imma text my cuz, let him know how much y’all be ballin’.” He proceeded to whip out his Sidekick, slide out the keyboard and start typing.

To Sariah’s surprise, they managed to stay on the road and even avoid other cars as the cab driver continued to type out his text. How he managed to do that without once lifting up his head to look, she had no idea.

“Oooo, dawg!” The driver… Kashif, that was his name… brightened up all of the sudden, as a new song blared out from the speakers. Sariah couldn’t tell the difference between it and the last one that had been playing. “This my jam, homey!”

Kashif began to gyrate, moving his head, his arms and his hips, all while staying seated and keeping the car from swerving. It was a real talent. The dancing was a mix of the styles Sariah had seen when her roommate back in college had forced her to watch the Bollywood film Bride & Prejudice… and hip-hop.

They weren’t styles that mixed together well.

The dancing was bad enough, but that wasn’t the end of it. It only took a few more seconds into the song before their cab driver started to free-style rap.

The BAU be bitchin’

My balls they be itchin’

To get in

Yo’ kitchen

Mama, you make me sweat. Hunh!

On the last guttural exclamation, Kashif grabbed his crotch, making eye contact with Sariah through the mirror. Well, if nothing else, this cab ride would make for some amazing stories down the line.

She watched as Joshua pulled out the earplugs he’d been using on the plane and scrunched down as far as he could in his seat. Had, on the other hand, was bouncing along to the rhythm, nodding his head with his eyes closed.

At least someone was having fun.

* * *

The flight to Richmond International Airport in Virginia was notable to Joshua for one fact and one fact alone.

They let him drink before the flight took off. Before they’d taxied down the runway, he’d put away two rum and Cokes. Well, the rum part, anyway. He’d given the Cokes to Had, who seemed content to spend every one of their flights getting to know everyone around him.

That, combined with the fact that there was no one on his aisle, meant that he was able to drift off to sleep. Fitful, booze colored sleep, but sleep nonetheless. At this stage in his downward spiral into oblivion, there really wasn’t any other kind.

They were greeted outside the airport by a friend of a friend of Bilal, courtesy of a quick text that Had sent out, over both Joshua and Coop’s protests. The friend of a friend ended up being, shockingly enough, Polish. Micha, a grizzled old man who looked to be in his late 70s, early 80s, talked to Had about the old country while Joshua did what he could to tune the conversation out.

“We’ve got this Polish place up in the U.P. in Michigan that has the best food. It’s called Legs Inn,” Had mentioned. Joshua was surprised to see Agent Cooper perk up at the topic change. It seemed that Coop liked Polish food. Who knew?

“Ah, Legs. I know this place. My brother’s ex-wife’s sister is waitress at this place.”

“You know it?” Had almost leapt out of his seat in excitement. “They have the best pierogi at that restaurant.”

“And the smoked whitefish spread?” The man kissed his fingers in appreciation.

“I know, right?”

Had swiveled his head around to include the whole car. “Did you guys know that Richmond was once the Confederate capitol?”

“What is this, fun fact hour?” Joshua griped, as he tried to get into a position that would keep most of Had’s annoying chatter from penetrating and not be one-hundred percent uncomfortable in the process.

This time, there was no stopping off at the local law enforcement offices, which they would avoid unless they couldn’t help it. They were headed straight out to the crime scene, a park out on the west side of Richmond called Maymont. Some rich bastards had left their sprawling 100-acre property to the people of Richmond when they passed away.

Since then, the city had expanded the attractions available to the public, adding Japanese and Italian gardens, an arboretum and a petting zoo. This wasn’t an area that saw as much traffic as the playground in Charleston, but it was a step up from any of the other crime scenes. The killer seemed to be getting more and more brazen, which made no sense.

Back when Joshua had been working the Humpty case, there had been no real progression to speak of. The killer was safe, consistent, almost untouchable in his careful approach to each crime. These new crimes were escalating, mocking those that were seeking to bring the perpetrator to justice.

And yet, that note to Joshua had spoken of intimate knowledge. If it weren’t for that one bit of information, he would be leaning toward copycat at this point.

“Kurwa!” The driver swearing in Polish and breaking hard broke Joshua out of his reverie.

“What is it?” Had asked, craning his neck to look out of the front windshield.

“Szczeniak. Puppy. In the street.”

* * *

Had was stunned to see Joshua move as fast as he did. Before Micha had even finished his sentence, the former agent had thrown open the car door and was running out in front of the cab, dodging the Cadillac that almost ran into him coming from the other direction, its horn blaring.

The puppy looked like a mix, the coloring a lot like a fawn Boxer, but the muzzle more extended, like a Labrador. It also appeared to want to play.

As Joshua started to approach, the puppy scampered off to the side of the road, almost tripping over its own huge feet as it darted its gaze back to the man who was chasing it. It ran into the brush along the side of the road.

Agent Cooper crawled out of the taxi, looking both ways before she trotted over to the side of the road, coming up alongside Joshua. Had got out, not wanting to miss whatever was happening here. This was shaping up to be a fun time.

“Joshua, you need to get back in the car,” Coop said, laying a hand on the former agent’s shoulder.

“That puppy stays out here, someone could come and pick it up,” Joshua shot back, shaking off her hand, his head swiveling from side to side as he searched for the errant canine.

“But that’s a good thing, right?” she assured him. “The road’s not that out of the way, and someone coming by and picking it up would be great. Someone that doesn’t have a serial killer to catch.”

“No, it’s not a good thing. Not at all. It could be someone that runs dogfights. Uses the puppy for bait for his killer dogs.” He had spotted the dog again and was circling around, trying to find a way to corner the fuzzy little creature.

“That’s so the worst case scenario. There’s no way it would go down that way.”

“My experience says otherwise. Worst case scenario is pretty much a descriptor for my entire life,” he replied, feinting to the left and then darting to the right. The puppy was not fooled.

Coop couldn’t seem to come up with a good answer for Joshua’s crazy imaginary sequence of future events, so she and Had began helping Joshua. They came at it from different angles, trying to herd it into one of their teammates’ arms; they tried distracting it while another swooped in to scoop it up.

Nothing.

Had stifled a laugh, even as he tried to catch his breath. This was exhausting. The little puppy was outsmarting three top law enforcement officers, and it didn’t even seem to be working all that hard. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth, and it let out a bark as the three stopped to rest for a moment.

Panting, Coop help up her hand. “Joshua. We’ve been chasing this dog around for fifteen minutes. We’ve got to get out to that crime scene.”

“Go on without me,” he fired back, facing off with the puppy again.

“Um. It’s getting away from three of us. What do you think you’re going to accomplish on your own?”

“I think it’s a she. And you two are just freaking her out. I’ll do better by myself.”

“We need you at the site,” Coop argued.

“No, you don’t. You’re just looking at a depression in the dirt. You’ll be fine.”

“Joshua—”

He whipped around, his eyes blazing. “I am not leaving her out here to starve or get nabbed by psychopaths. Either stay with me or don’t, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Had stepped in between the two. “Hey, Joshua, no need to get all snippy.”

Then the strangest thing happened. Joshua’s eyes softened and went unfocused, like he wasn’t seeing Had at all, but something or someone from another place or time.

“She needs me,” he pleaded, his voice almost a whisper. “I can’t leave her here.”

He stayed looking at Had for another long moment, then turned back around. As Joshua returned to his pursuit of the puppy, Had and Coop looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. Finally, Coop waved for Had to join her in heading back to the taxicab.

Looked like they were going out to the crime scene sans a certain former agent.

Had couldn’t say that he felt all that bad about it.

CHAPTER 10

Maymont Park was enormous. As they drove alongside the park, the street on which they traveled was lined with elm, oak and pine trees, creating a picturesque environment that hearkened back to a time past. Sariah found the area beautiful, even though the late summer was taking its toll on the greenery. The smell coming through the open window was redolent with the smells of cut and browning grass.

They had Micha drop them off at the entrance on the corner of Hampton Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, and he promised to wait for them there in the parking lot area. Sariah and Had then caught one of the trams that circled the park every 20 minutes to get closer to where they wanted to go.

As they passed by the mansion that had belonged to the Dooley’s back in the last part of the 1800’s, Sariah had to physically restrain Had from leaping out to join the tour already in progress. They needed to get out to the crime scene. But it took quite a lot more twisting and turning around until they were closer to the area they needed. Even then, they had to hike in to the copse of trees.

“You know, in a way, I’m kinda glad Joshua isn’t with us,” Had confided to her as they neared the yellow tape boundaries of the site.

“Really?” Sariah answered. “I thought you liked him. Even after having to put up with more than your fair share of abuse at his hands.”

He chuckled. “I told you, that’s brother stuff. And he ain’t got nothin’ on Mama. She’s the one I’m skeered of.” Had allowed a thick southern dialect to creep into his speech. Both the accent and the sentiment expressed made Sariah smile.

“You’re not kidding, are you?” She’d had first-hand experience with Had’s mother, so she had an idea of what he was talking about.

“Nope.” He pushed some tree branches out of the way, holding them for her. “Besides, that’s not what I meant.”

“No? What, then?”

“I just…” Had paused, seeming to search for the words he wanted. “Joshua’s had it rough. Watching him fall apart like that with that etching we found…”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Probably best that he sit this one out.” She looked around the site, then rethought. “Although…”

“It’s nice to have someone around that can profile the hell out of us both?” Had finished for her.

“Pretty much.”

They arrived at the location where the leg had been buried. It was the lower half of the leg that had been discovered by a group of tourists who had brought in a seeing-eye dog. The dog had gone crazy and started digging. The group had thought it was funny until the canine unearthed a limb with the flesh still attached. The section of leg ran from the knee down to the ankle, where the foot had been severed.

“According to the photos that were sent over, the leg was resting like this,” Had made a sweep of his arms in a line that cut through the grove in front and in back of them. “Do you think…?”

“What? That there’s another message left for us? I think it’s a good assumption to start off with.”

“Okay, you go that way…” He pointed in the general direction of the mansion. “And I’ll head in the opposite direction.”

Sariah hadn’t gone far before Had called out to her. “Hey, Coop! C’mere. My line ran right into this big old tree.”

Jogging over to join him, she noticed that this particular tree was a gnarled oak, which had a hollow in it right at the base of the tree, obscured by leaves. Had started to stick his hand inside.

“Hold it!” she yelled at him, then held up a finger to get him to slow down for a moment. “If this is where our killer wanted us to look, we might want to be careful. There could be anything in there.”

Had backed away, his hands held high as if he were under arrest. Sariah poked around in the underbrush until she found a stick that would serve to better explore the opening they had found. She motioned for Had to move off to the side of the huge tree, and she did the same. Reaching around the trunk, she thrust the stick inside the hollow.

Nothing.

But as she dragged the stick back out, Sariah could see that it had snagged on something. A slip of paper that was covered in dirt and had started to curl up.

“Eureka!” Had called out. “Pay dirt.”

He searched around for another stick and came over to Sariah’s side. Together, they used the sticks to pull open the scrap of paper and read the printing they found there.

Cold, guys. You’re getting very cold.

* * *

As Had followed Sariah away from the scene, he pushed down the insecurities that had crept up as soon as he’d laid eyes on that note. Whoever this killer was, he sure knew how to get under their skin.

But once shoved away, those fears began pushing back with a vengeance. What were they going to do now? Where were they going to go next? Okay, sure, they had the leads that Had’s program had sifted out, but that wasn’t guaranteed to find them the person they were looking for.

An even more immediate concern was how Joshua would react to the newest message. Would it send him off on another drinking binge? And was there anything Had and Coop could do about it if it did?

The questions bumping around in Had’s mind came to an abrupt halt the second the sprinkler systems in the park went off. One second he and Agent Cooper were hiking back to where they could catch the nearest tram. The next they were soaked to the skin.

“Dammit!” Had yelled as he sprinted after Coop.

“It’s fine!” she called back over her shoulder. “In this heat it’ll take no time at all to dry out.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of!” he cried back. This was bad. This was very, very bad. He put on a burst of speed to get away from the attacking jets of moisture.

And then they were out of the stream of fire. Had shook out his hair and wrung out his tie, doing what he could to wipe off some of the water. But he knew in his heart that it was too late.

“What did you mean back there?” Agent Cooper asked. “Why don’t you want to dry out?”

Had just shut his lips and shook his head, embarrassed. This day was so not turning out how he had expected.

“Come on,” she prompted. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

He held out for three more seconds before it burst out of him. “It’s… it’s my jeans,” he answered. “They’re raw denim.”

“So… what? Do they need to be cooked? I don’t get it.”

“It means… Well, it means that when they get wet and then get hot, they… start to shrink.” Had looped a thumb into the waistband of his jeans and tugged. “In fact, I think it’s already started. Ow. Ooow.”

Agent Cooper just looked at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Had managed to hold out for a few moments, but then she looked down at the jeans and back up at his face and he couldn’t take it any longer. They both dissolved into hysterics.

“You… you…” Coop couldn’t do anything more than point at his pants. They had shrunk now to the point that they were getting uncomfortable, but now Had couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Stop. Laughing… can’t… breathe,” He managed. He pulled harder at his pants that were threatening to cut off the circulation to the lower half of his bodies. Visions of paramedics using the Jaws of Life to cut him out of his jeans flooded his consciousness.

“Okay, okay…” Coop managed. “We’ve got to get back to Joshua, and then we’ll stop somewhere with a restroom to get you out of those clothes and into something… more comfortable…” The straight face she’d kept throughout that statement dissolved into laughter at the last.

That started him off again. And laughing while having your diaphragm constrained by an ever-tightening band of denim was not tops on his bucket list. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem.

What the hell was he going to wear now if they ever had to go out clubbing?

* * *

The cab ride back to where they’d left Joshua was entertaining. Sariah watched as Had contorted himself into one contorted figure after another until he settled on shoving his legs down into the well of the car, keeping his entire body ramrod straight. It appeared to be the only position that was comfortable for him, now that he was being eaten by his pair of pants.

So far, since the moment they got back into the cab, Sariah had done a remarkable job keeping a straight face, but each time she glanced to the side, her equilibrium was threatened. Maybe she should consider staring out the window until they were reunited with Joshua.

Micha the cabdriver, on the other hand, was straightforward in his disdain.

“Why you wear pants that shrink when they getting wet? How you wash them?”

“Oh,” Had replied, angling his neck around so that he could keep his legs straight and still see Micha in the mirror. “You’re not supposed to wash raw denim. At least not much. Like every year or so.”

“Wait a minute. What?” Sariah stepped back into the conversation. “You only wash them once a year?”

“Well, yeah,” he answered, as if it were a self-evident truth upon which the entire universe was based.

“Don’t they start to stink?”

“Well, raw denim doesn’t really smell, but when they do, you just throw them in the freezer.”

“Holding on for minute,” the driver called back over his shoulder. “You are putting the pants in freezer?”

“Um, yeah.” Had seemed to realize that he was dealing with a less-than-receptive audience here. “It’s what all true denimheads do.”

“These denimheads are being the crazy, I am thinking.” Micha made a raspberry sound with his lips, accompanied by a sharp hand gesture. He then refocused on the road. “Your friend. I see him there, up by trees.”

Sariah, looking up ahead, picked out a figure just before a bend in the road. It was Joshua, huddled down next to the curb. It looked like he was asleep, but that couldn’t be right. He never slept.

Sure enough, when they came up close to the former agent, he lifted his head up, revealing the puppy that he had been cradling in his arms. Joshua may not have been sleeping, but the little bundle in his arms was.

It created quite the precious picture, the broken-down man with the sweet, innocent life nestled down for comfort. But Sariah couldn’t help but think this one forward a little ways.

What the hell were they going to do with a puppy?

As the former agent clambered into the car, the first words out of his mouth were, “What’s up with Mr. Talkative here?” He pointed at Had, looking at his strange positioning in the backseat. “Did he get cursed by some Gypsy witch he wouldn’t stop yammering at?”

“Long story,” Sariah answered.

From up in the driver’s seat, Micha grumbled at Joshua’s reflection, “You be watching that doggie. Making sure he will not be making the piss in my cab.”

“Yeah, yeah, no making the piss. Got it.” Joshua stroked the pup, who’d gotten a little jostled from the movement of her new owner getting into the car.

“So, any tags or anything?” Had asked, pointing at the dog.

“No. Nothing. Looks like she was abandoned at the side of the road. Found some tire tracks that went off the road a ways and then just stopped. They were close to where we found her.”

“Okay, that’s all well and good, but we can’t keep her,” Sariah stepped in.

“Why not?” Joshua responded, his tone sharp. “I’ll take care of her. She can ride with me on the plane.”

“They won’t let her ride with you.”

“They will if I say she’s a service dog.”

“But she’s not a service dog,” Sariah shot back.

“Why the hell not? She’s providing a service to me. She’ll keep me walking in a straight line when I’m drunk.”

“That’s all the time.”

He looked at her like she was stupid. “Which is why I need a service dog.”

The circular logic of this argument had not escaped Sariah, but this tack wasn’t working. And she had to find something that would. They couldn’t end up with an animal that they had to watch out for at every turn. It just wasn’t feasible.

“What about a no-kill shelter?” she urged.

“Not a chance.”

“What’s wrong with a no-kill shelter? They’ll take good care of her.”

Joshua shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m the one that has to watch out for her. The Chinese believe that if you save a life, you’re responsible for it.”

Sariah blew a sharp breath out in frustration. “Oh, come on. That’s like a cultural marriage of convenience. My guess is that you hate the Chinese.”

He shrugged. “Sure, but I hate everyone. I’m an equal opportunity hater.”

Their driver looked into the rear-view mirror and shook his head. The guy barely spoke English, and even he thought this argument was ridiculous.

“She’s awfully cute,” Had interjected, reaching over to scratch the puppy’s head. He then caught sight of Sariah’s face and backed away. “Well, she is.”

Sariah looked for one last-ditch argument. “Why do you even care? You’re not religious. You hate philosophy. What’s the deal here?”

Joshua looked straight at her. “I’m keeping the puppy.”

And once more, Had reached over to play with her ears. He caught her eye, pointed at the puppy and shrugged, his expression communicating something like, How can you say no to a face like this?

Great. Both the boys were on board with this dog thing. Did neither of them realize the hassle this was going to be?

The tiny animal squirmed in Joshua’s lap, nuzzling at his fingers. She had to admit, the little tyke was adorable. She mentally reprimanded herself. There was no way she could allow herself to get sucked into this insanity.

“What’s her name?” Had asked Joshua. He appeared to be ignoring Sariah’s intent glares in his direction.

“Not sure yet. I was thinking maybe Bella.”

“Oooo. That’s a great name. Hey little Bella. Hey there.” Had reached across once more, and Sariah smacked his fingers away. “Ouch.”

Seeing the hurt look on Had’s face, she tried to keep her stance firm on this. She wasn’t being overly harsh, was she? Of course not. Having a dog around was going to be a logistical pain in the ass.

Bella turned her little head and licked Sariah’s hand.

Oh, for the love of…

She pulled her hand away, trying to smother the smile that was creeping onto her face of its own accord. They could not have a dog, and that was final.

Could. Not.

* * *

They had stopped at a Flying J about a half an hour to the north of Richmond for Micha to refuel. Joshua had managed to buy some food and a leash for Bella, a pink one with spikes. It seemed to suit her.

She was scampering around, nipping at his heels, barking at all of the trucks rumbling past. The fear and exhaustion of getting abandoned at the side of the road seemed to have left her for the most part. Joshua envied the resilience of the young. Sometimes it seemed like he still felt the scar tissue from each individual wound, emotional and physical, he’d received in his entire life.

It was a typical truck stop, with an area specifically for the road warriors stopping by. A lounge area with an old television set, a game room, some showers—all of the comforts of non-home waiting here for them. Joshua knew the kind of place well. Many of the showers he’d taken over the last 13 years had been at stops similar to these.

Had was talking in his ear, not that this was an unusual occurrence. It was getting to the point that Joshua was able to tune out a good portion of what the young cop was saying, but the sheer quantity of verbiage was starting to get to him. The first three buttons on Had’s jeans had been popped open, and he was walking like he had stilts that had been shoved down each of his pant legs. Joshua had a brief image of having to cut Had out of his jeans and shuddered.

“What?” Joshua said, after there was a pause in the steady flow of words coming out of Had’s mouth lasting longer than a second or two.

“I said, my program spit out some names that we’re going to use as suspects. Coop seemed pretty impressed by it.”

“That’s great,” he responded without thinking. Then it registered what Had was saying. “Wait. How many names did it give you?”

“About twelve.”

“About twelve? Or twelve?”

Had scratched at his neck. “Okay, exactly twelve.”

Joshua thought for a moment. “And you pulled all of these stats from sources online?”

“Yeah.”

“Has Coop already started the process of rounding them up for questioning?” he asked, thinking ahead to getting them in the box, what he would ask them, how he could break them down.

“I’m not sure. She was talking about a few of the best of those leads. There were four or five that have pretty hefty rap sheets already. B and E, domestic violence, drunk and disorderlies.”

Joshua nodded his head, but his thoughts were a hundred miles away. “It’s a weird way to look at it, but the breaking and entering charges are more significant than the violence. We’re looking for someone that thinks ahead, thinks things through.”

“Right,” Had answered, getting down on a knee to play with Bella. The puppy leapt about, barking, as Had wrestled with her. She pounced up, licking at his face.

Something about that physical interfacing sparked an idea in Joshua’s head. “Our guy is used to interacting in person,” he muttered to himself.

“What?”

Realizing he’d spoken loud enough for Had to hear, Joshua rephrased his idea so that the young cop could understand. “We’re looking for a guy who’s old-school. None of this transponder stuff.”

“What do you mean? What’s a transponder?”

“A lot of truckers are moving over to wireless transponders—they connect to the weigh stations and transmit all the important info. Lets them go past without stopping.”

Had’s eyes lit up. “And you think this guy won’t use them?”

“Humpty’s been around for a long time. And up until just a bit ago, he didn’t seem to like change much. We’re going to end up at a place just like this, showing pictures to people, doing old fashioned police work.” There was something about that idea that made Joshua’s blood sing. This was what he did. And he could tell that Had was excited about it, too.

“I’ll look through the routes and see if there’s a big truck stop or weigh station that’s common to all of them.”

“Great,” Joshua answered. “That might winnow it down further.”

Joshua pulled the leash in, dragging the enthusiastic Bella back to where he could gather her into his arms. She licked at his face, filling his nostrils with her puppy breath. They still had another hour or so to go until they got back to Quantico.

Gritting his teeth, Joshua tried to keep his heart rate at normal levels. They were on this killer’s six. And there was no way Joshua was going to let him go this time.

CHAPTER 11

By the time they got back to D.C. and the hotel where they were staying, Had was noticing some drastic changes in Joshua. The guy was sweating and shaking, and not even the dog seemed to be able to cheer him up. And if that cute little ball of energy with the wagging tail couldn’t help, you knew that was one big old mess.

As they moved past the front desk, Had watched as Joshua shoved the puppy underneath his shirt. The hotel more than likely had a policy about pets in the room, but if Joshua was looking to be subtle about sneaking Bella in, he’d missed by a mile. The poor little pup squirmed and yelped inside his clothes, eliciting some puzzled stares from the other guests. It appeared Joshua had been lucky, however, seeing as how the concierge had been busy helping someone and hadn’t looked up.

On the elevator up, Agent Cooper turned to face the two men. “Okay, Joshua. You need to get that puppy somewhere I can’t see her. And if you get dinged for having her here in the hotel, it’s coming out of your pay.”

“Whatever,” he grunted.

“Oh, and please go grab yourself a drink before you start hallucinating or something, okay?”

Joshua grunted in what might have been a positive response. It was hard to tell with him, Had was finding. The former agent played most of the emotions that weren’t irritation or out-and-out anger so close to the vest.

She ran her hand over her buzzed scalp and looked at Had. “And you. I want to talk over what we found using that program of yours.”

“Sounds good.” Any time spent working with Coop was good time, as far as Had was concerned.

The elevator dinged and the doors swung wide, revealing an out-of-shape couple in swimsuits, white hotel towels draped about shoulders and wrapped around hips. After a brief shuffle from side to side to see who was going to go first, those exiting or entering, Agent Cooper led the charge and got the three of them out. The only repercussions were the blistering stares from the couple that followed them until the doors slid shut, blocking out their vitriol.

Moving down the hallway toward their rooms, Coop pulled out a key card and swiped it through the magnetic reader installed next to one of the entrances to the suites. After a click and a green light from the indicator, she shoved the door open with her shoulder and motioned for Joshua to head on in.

“No more nocturnal activities, Joshua. You want more than what’s in the minibar, you talk to me, got it?”

Another grunt, and the former agent and his hidden pet were on the other side of the now-closed door. Had could have sworn he heard the clink and clack of the chain lock being slid into place.

Agent Cooper pulled out a roll of tape and placed several strips across the door and its adjacent doorjamb, two on the long side, and one on the top. Had watched, his curiosity raging until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Where’d you get the tape?”

“I picked it up on the way to get Joshua out of the drunk tank this morning,” she murmured as she completed the task.

“And what is it that you’re trying to do?”

Coop turned to face him. “Making sure that if he leaves his room, I know about it.”

“You think he’s going to take off on you again, after you let him go to prison?”

“I’m not making the mistake of thinking that I know what Joshua’s capable of,” she answered.

“But if you come out tomorrow morning and the tape’s broken, he’ll be long gone,” he observed.

“I’ll be checking on him every hour or so. He won’t go far.”

“Wow. That’s gonna tank your sleep cycle.” Had thought for a minute. “Why don’t we trade off with each other?”

“Had, you don’t have to do that. I’m—”

“Busy trying to lead this team,” he interrupted. “Come on. You know it’s a good idea.”

Coop made an expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile. What would that be? A grile? A smimace? Whatever it was, Agent Cooper had it plastered all over her face.

“Actually, you’re right,” she assented after a moment. “I was falling on my sword, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, you kinda were. Knock it off.” Had gave her a grin. “I’ll take the odd hours, you take the even. If there’s anything out of whack, I’ll come get you.”

“Perfect.”

At this point they were now down the hall to where Had’s room lay. He swiped the card, the click sounded and the light stayed red. He tried it again. Same results. He grumbled to himself, breathed on the magnetic strip, wiped it off on his shirt and… nothing, once more.

After asking with her expression and holding out her hand, Coop went through the same process. Green light on the first try.

Figured.

Laughing, Agent Cooper preceded him into the room. She flopped down on one of the beds, leaving space for Had to set up on the other. He pulled out his laptop and fired it up, loosening his tie and top button while waiting for the program to launch.

The tightness of his pants kept him from adopting his partner’s pose, and he flopped around on the bed for a while, trying to find a position that worked. He ignored the stifled laughter that drifted his way from the other bed. Opening up the program, Had started up the conversation to try to distract Agent Cooper out of her mirth.

“I was talking with Joshua earlier about the case—”

“Hold on,” Coop interjected. “Joshua was talking about the case? Willingly?”

“Yeah… Guess I hadn’t thought about how that might be a little weird.” Had plugged in the data from before, cross-referencing trucking routes, employees and criminal records. “Anyway, he mentioned focusing on the crimes that required planning. Breaking and entering, fraud, stuff like that.”

“Makes sense. Can your program handle that?”

Had snorted. “Ha!” He depressed a key and turned the screen to face her. There were eight names that remained highlighted. “At this point, do you really need to ask?”

“My apologies, oh mighty computer nerd,” Coop intoned.

“Um. We prefer ‘computer geek’.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Is there…?” Had made a point of clearing his throat. “Is there a difference? I can’t believe you just asked that question.”

“From your response, I’m going to guess that there is.” Coop swung her legs over the edge of the bed and scooted closer to the screen, leaning closer to the screen as she navigated through the features of the program. She tapped her fingers against her legs, peering at the information Had was pulling up for her.

“Huge. Geeks know how to talk to women without gagging on their tongues.”

“Ah, I see.”

Had’s phone lit up, the music from Psycho echoing through the small hotel room. Agent Cooper looked up at him.

“Your mom. You better answer it.”

Wrinkling up his nose, Had pushed the “accept” button on his touchscreen. “Mama, I’m in a meeting with my boss right now. Can I call you back?”

“Uh huh,” she answered through the receiver, her voice tinny. “And where, exactly, is this supposed meetin’?” she asked.

Had hemmed and hawed for a second. “It’s… um… well… In my hotel room,” he finished.

“Right. You give me a call back once you get yer britches back on, sweetcakes.”

“Mama!” he cried, outraged, but she had already hung up. He tossed the phone on the bed, where it bounced twice and then came to a stop right before going over the edge.

“Still doesn’t believe you, does she?” Coop asked.

“Nope.”

“Well,” she sat back up and pushed herself to her feet, rubbing her hand over her face. “Do whatever you can to get those numbers narrowed down. I’m going to go check on Joshua and then to bed.”

“You okay?” he asked before she could get out the door.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“You seem stressed out.”

“No, I’m—” she began.

“You’ve rubbed your face, you’re tapping on your leg with your finger,” Had cut her off. “Those’re both things you do when you get anxious.”

She stopped tapping her leg and made the combination smile and grimace expression again. “You may be right.” Coop sighed as she leaned against the wall. For the first time that evening, it seemed that she wasn’t hiding all of her mounting tension. “We’re almost finished with the body, Had. We’re only lacking the head and torso at this point. That’s not much,” she confided.

Had thought back to the files he’d read on Humpty Dumpty. “And right about now is when he’s going to be looking for his next victim.” All of the sudden, Joshua’s attitude as they were headed into the hotel started feeling like it was more than just a physical response to a lack of alcohol.

“Yes. In fact, while you’re working on getting us a prime suspect or two or four, can you plug in recent kidnappings along the primary routes? Maybe set up an alert?”

“Got it,” he answered.

As Agent Cooper moved toward the door of the hotel room, he could see the tension in her shoulders and neck. Talking about the next victim took this from being a cool puzzle that Had was trying to sort out to what it actually was.

A race to keep someone else from getting chopped into pieces.

Which reminded him. Looking down at his pants, Had sighed. It was time to shred his favorite pair of jeans. There was no way they were coming off of him any other way. He already had some mild concerns about the blood flow that may or may not be getting down to his feet. Maybe if he was careful, he could save a couple of large scraps for the next time his mama made a quilt.

He began the search for a pair of scissors.

* * *

Sariah scanned ahead of herself as she moved down the hallway of the hotel. The weight of her realization pushed down on her, slowing her mind, her steps, even her breathing. It almost felt like she was moving through molasses.

Somehow, up to this point, it had all been an intellectual exercise for her: get everyone to believe that Humpty was back, push to get the case, make her team the best it could be. Even the victim wasn’t really a victim in her mind. They hadn’t been able to match the DNA to anyone specific, so there was no face to the crime.

But now that they were nearing the end of this body, another was on its way. Another father, mother, sister, brother. Even the homeless person out panhandling for money for the next fix was connected somewhere, in spite of how many of those ties had been severed through deliberate distancing or accidental loss. Joshua was the perfect example of that premise.

Speaking of Joshua… Sariah looked to the door, checking her makeshift escape alert. The pieces of tape had all been broken.

Dammit.

It wasn’t a sure thing that Joshua had flown the coop. He could have just popped down the hall to grab some ice. Another second and she rejected that idea out of hand. The thought that Joshua would ever water down his alcohol, just to have it be more palatable going down, was as ludicrous a premise as she’d come up with yet.

But still… you never knew for sure until you verified.

Coming closer to the door, Sariah spotted a man in a hotel uniform heading down the hall. Acting on an impulse, she called out to him.

“Excuse me.”

The man turned around, his expression inquisitive. “Can I help you?”

“I… ah…” She realized that the question she was about to ask might seem more than a little strange. “Did you just come from that room?”

His face shifted, his demeanor becoming more suspicious. “I’m not sure—”

Sariah pulled out her badge and identification. “I’m Special Agent Sariah Cooper.” Let the guy take from that what he would. Joshua was sort of in her custody, right? This situation was a bit outside the official playbook.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the man backtracked. His nametag identified him as Blake Kendrick. “Yes, I was just talking to the man there.”

“And…?”

“It was kinda weird. He wanted me to take these.” Blake lifted up his hands, several small bottles of alcohol clutched in each fist. Sariah hadn’t noticed them when he’d first turned around.

“Was that all of it?” she asked, doing what she could to keep the surprise out of her tone. This was not normal.

“No, that was the strange thing,” he confessed. “I’ve had people… you know, alcoholics and stuff… ask me to take alcohol out of the minibar before, but never only part of it.”

“Okay, thanks.” Sariah turned to head back, but then asked a final question. “And he’s still in there?”

“Yep. Almost shut the door in my face.”

That sounded more like the Joshua she knew. “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem.”

She walked back down to Joshua’s door and pulled down the remnants of the tape. No need to have Had come knocking on her door at one o’clock in the morning, freaked out that Joshua had bolted on his watch. She slapped new tape over where the old had been.

The situation with Joshua and the alcohol could wait until the morning. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be a bad thing that he had gotten rid of part of his stash, right?

But if there was one thing Sariah was sure of, it was not to believe for one single moment that she had the former agent figured out.

* * *

The old man’s rancid breath invaded Joshua’s nostrils.

“You’re an agent with the BAU. You bring killers to justice, find some measure of peace for the families of the victims, wrap things up with a pretty little bow.” His father-in-law’s voice was raspy with age and the cigars he liked to smoke. “But when it comes to your own family? You’re a cripple. A half-man. You might as well be a eunuch as far as they’re concerned.”

Joshua wanted to respond, to defend himself, to push back against this vile creature filled with hate and putrescence. But his voice wouldn’t work. His mouth moved, but no sound emerged.

Besides, even if he could speak, what would he say?

It was true. All true. Truetruetruetruetrue.

His wife joined her father, standing at his right elbow. “He’s right, you know. I can’t believe I ever married such a worthless piece of shit.” She shrugged, wrinkling up her perfect nose. Joshua had always loved that nose, a spray of freckles dotting the bridge, leading down to the cheeks, evidence of the Irish heritage on her mom’s side. “I never loved you. You know that, don’t you, sweetie?”

I do. I know. I’m sorry.

But there was nothing. She was there. He could reach out and touch her. But his hands remained chained at his sides, his tongue trapped inside his mouth. Immobile. Silent. Impotent.

And then his daughters, ranging from seven down to three, filed in and gathered around their mother and grandfather. They all looked up at him, their noses just like their mother’s, their eyes were his own, staring back at him.

“They’re right, Daddy. They’re right. So right. So very, very right.” They all chanted in unison. “You were a terrible daddy, Daddy. Terrible. Daddy. Daddy.”

I know. I know. You’re all so beautiful. I know.

George, the old man, the cancerous soul that called himself Joshua’s father-in-law, leaned in close. So close that Joshua could pick out every one of the large pores on the aging vulture’s face.

And then George licked him. Full on the mouth.

Joshua started awake to Bella’s kisses. She was whimpering and whining, as she appeared to be doing what she could to lick every bit of the distasteful dream away.

The feel of the nightmare lingered, but the warm body beside him soothed some of the ache he felt in his chest, filled the hole that remained in his belly, washed off the lingering scent of failure that clung to him.

Joshua snuggled back down with the puppy and went right to sleep.

CHAPTER 12

Sariah stood in the shower, trying to wash the burdens of the case down the drain alongside the dirt and sweat from the road. Last night had gone better than expected. After the first few forays out to Joshua’s room had proved that he hadn’t left, she’d let Had off the hook. She’d also cut down the visits to once every other hour, then once every three. She almost felt like she’d gotten a full night’s sleep for once.

Almost.

As the near-scalding hot water streamed down her body, she thought through what their next steps should be. It was time to use some of the information that they’d gleaned from Had’s program, working in concert with Joshua’s expertise. Sariah turned the cold water down to where the flow of water was almost pure heat. The near-pain that resulted helped her to attain more clarity in her thought process.

The heat seemed to drag reluctant ideas out of the recesses of her mind. Joshua had been right about her. She couldn’t have handled this case on her own. There were more than a few moments when she looked around and could see nothing that she had contributed to this case other than the bringing together of two brilliant minds. Intellects that she then exploited in order to further her own career.

Was that it? Was that who she was? The middle manager whose only redeeming quality was her drive? A Salieri to Mozart’s genius… able to recognize and use greatness, while seething in jealousy and impotent rage at both the prodigies she was surrounded by, and the God who had given them what she lacked.

She stepped out of the shower, grabbing towels from the rack to scrub herself dry. The television played in the background. When she was up and alone, there was always something on. Some kind of noise to keep her from being alone with her thoughts. The only exception was the shower. Maybe that’s why she kept the water so hot, to drown out the incessant whisperings of the voices inside her head. The ones that were so convinced that she was incompetent. Useless. A complete and utter fraud.

Dressing in haste, Sariah did what she could to get out of the room as fast as possible. Time to get things moving. The only way to keep the voices at bay was to show them progress. And right now, the clock was ticking down fast; the white sands of the hourglass piling up as a witness against her abilities. Someone new was going to die, and it would be her fault.

She knocked on Had’s door. “Hey! Meeting down at the breakfast buffet in five.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.” Had’s raised voice was followed by an intense muttering. Sariah was pretty sure she caught the word Mama. Sounded like another less-than-satisfactory conversation with his mother. Chuckling to herself, she shook her head. Sariah had enough experience with the woman to know that she’d much rather it be him than her taking that call. She had her internal voices, but maybe she was getting off easy. Had only had the one external source, but Sariah had no desire to trade places with him.

And then she neared Joshua’s room. As always, there was a moment of panic that preceded her first view of the former agent. What surprise would he have in store for her today? So far, each new experience with him had done nothing to alleviate her growing concerns for his wellbeing.

The tape was still intact. Joshua hadn’t left his room all night. A wash of relief surged through Sariah’s system. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.

It was now almost seven, so if Joshua hadn’t left, he had to be awake. He never slept past five. More than that, he almost never slept past four. But when she knocked on the door, there was no response. Not even a stir. She knocked harder. Still nothing.

With trembling fingers, Sariah pulled the tape off the doorframe and pulled out the extra key card. She had to swipe four times before the light turned green for her to be able to open the door.

Bursting into the room, she scanned for Joshua, expecting to see his inert, possibly dead, body surrounded by empty bottles of liquor he’d somehow managed to procure for himself. Poisoned by the very drink that sustained him. But instead what she saw were four of the tiny bottles from the fridge stacked in a row on the counter.

Only four drinks. That couldn’t be right.

A further scan found Joshua on the bed, curled into a ball. A light snore resonated, his breath even and deep. In the center of the circle he’d made of his body rested the tiny form of Bella, who perked up at Sariah’s approach and started wagging her tail.

Joshua remained asleep.

If she hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have believed it. He never slept this late. Seeing him vulnerable, Sariah though back to that first morning with him. Now was the perfect time to get him back for the ice water dousing she’d received at his hands, but seeing him like that, gentle in repose, stayed her hand. It was the closest she’d seen him to attaining any form of peace. The lines in his forehead and around his eyes had softened, and Sariah saw what she’d never noticed in him before.

She saw the dad in him. The father that loved his children and laughed at their quirks. The loving husband who adored his wife beyond all reason. The serious agent who wouldn’t allow the sick and damaged to take away someone else’s joy.

There, etched on his face, was the agent that everyone who had known Joshua before spoke of. The man that Sariah kept hoping would show up.

And here he was, cuddling with a puppy.

Sariah backed away, doing what she could to quiet her step. There was no need to have Joshua at the meeting this morning. She and Had could work out what they needed to. If they needed the former agent’s input, they could get it later.

For now, it was time for him to sleep.

* * *

Had bubbled with enthusiasm that he couldn’t quite contain. He’d already done his happy dance three times in his room before he was dressed, and even his talk with his mama hadn’t managed to quell his excitement. His laptop bumped against his leg, hitting one of the many bruises he now sported as a result of his raw denim fiasco. As much as he liked the look of shrink-to-fit jeans, he was now rethinking that whole idea. At least in any area with an annual rainfall of over three inches.

Down the hallway, he heard the ding of an arriving elevator and put on a burst of speed. He called out for whoever it was to hold the door as he scooted to the elevator and squeezed through the entrance before it closed.

The family’s eyes bored into him; they looked to be heading down for some breakfast before getting back on the road. A balding middle-aged man with tired eyes, a woman with sleep knots in her hair, and two tow-headed devils with more mischief radiating out of them than the parents clearly had any idea what to do with. Had gave the older of the two boys a wink. He knew that searching look well. He’d worn it too many times himself as a young child.

Most mornings, he would’ve started chatting with them, finding out where they were coming from and where they were headed. But not today.

Today there was a glowing bit of happiness that was highlighted in red in the center of his computer screen. A scrap of information that could help them to crack the case open, like one of the crawdads his mama always talked about eating back in Mississippi. There were crayfish up in Michigan, but she insisted that there was no comparison to the ones you found down south.

Sometimes Had thought his mama was full of crap.

He trotted into the breakfast room. Even with his limited travel experience, Had was starting to realize that these kinds of buffets looked the same throughout the U.S. Same smallish room with crappy décor. Same waffle maker surrounded by impatient hotel guests. Same dried out pastries and containers of sugar cereals. Even the television mounted up on the wall seemed to have the same news program on.

And there at one of the tables, was Agent Cooper, her neck craned to watch the news as she sucked down a glass of watered-down orange juice. One more thing that seemed to be consistent from hotel to hotel, as far as Had could tell. Whether it was concentrated to the point of being sludge or diluted past recognition, he had yet to encounter a good glass of juice.

Had caught Coop’s eye, and she waved him over to sit down across from her. “If the canary hasn’t been eaten yet, it needs to watch its back with you around. What’s got you so perky this morning?” She held up her hand to stave off his answer. “Never mind. Food first. Then talk.” She pointed over to the buffet, waving at him when he started to speak in spite of her admonition. “I’m serious. Breakfast. Most important meal of the day.”

Moving to the table, Had snagged a Danish that didn’t look too crusty and poured some java into a mug that was resting upside down on a tray right next to the coffee maker. Decaf. Because his news had him zinging more than caffeine ever could.

As he jetted back to the table, his leg grazed the top of one of the chairs that was sticking out, and he couldn’t keep from wincing. Agent Cooper caught the expression.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine,” he responded, hoping that would be the end of it. She sat there, an expectant look on her face. He sighed. “There is some… bruising.”

“Bruising? From what?”

“Um,” Had murmured. “From the… ah… incident… yesterday.”

“Incident?” Her face wrinkled up, then cleared all of the sudden. She lifted up her hand to cover her mouth. “The sprinkler thing. With the jeans. Got it.” Her brow creased. “That caused bruising?”

“Can we not talk about it?” Had’s information high was starting to leave, and he wanted to share what he’d found before he lost all credibility whatsoever.

Coop nodded, apparently working hard to keep a straight face. “Sure thing. What’ve you got?”

Whipping out his laptop, Had opened it up and turned it to face his partner, his shame forgotten. “Only our next destination. Check it out!”

Her eyes getting bigger, Coop darted her eyes up to meet Had’s, then back to the screen. “Is this accurate?”

“As accurate as the data. I would say within a percent or two of error.”

“And every one of the trucking routes we’re looking at leads—”

“Right into the middle of that truck stop,” Had finished for her, unable to resist stepping in. “It connects every single one of the dots for us. Our guy had to have gone through this area. I’m telling you, this is the place.”

After his conversation with Johsua, Had’d pulled all the routes that fit the crime scenes and linked them to a listing of all of the major truck stops and weigh stations. One stood out more than a huge zit on the nose of a prom queen.

Iowa 80.

“It’s the biggest truck stop in the world,” he gushed, pulling up some stats that he’d found the night before, once he’d found the link to the famous layover. “It’s got like four places to eat, a movie theater, a dentist, a chiropractor.” He pointed to the screen. “There’s even a trucking museum!”

“That’s… great,” Coop responded. She didn’t seem quite as thrilled about the amenities of the truck stop, but her eyes gleamed all the same.

“They’ve got a showroom and a custom shop; there’s wireless everywhere. They’ve even got a barber shop.”

“I’m getting the picture. It’s huge,” she answered, grinning at him. Had wasn’t sure, but it may have had something to do with his intimate knowledge of a truck stop, even it if was the biggest one on the planet. “And you’re sure this place links to every single one of the sites?”

“Not just the ones now, but also the scenes from 13 years ago.”

She pulled her eyes away from the screen. Had could see that, much as she was trying to keep it from showing, she was almost as excited as he was.

“This is it, Had. We’re gonna get him.”

He was one hundred percent in agreement. They’d make their way out to the trucking center, set up shop, and have the guy in custody in three days or less. There was no way the killer could worm his way out of this trap. Not a chance.

Agent Cooper rubbed her hands together. “Okay, first thing I’m going to need you to do is to get a hold of local law enforcement. We’re going to need their assistance in pulling suspects in for questioning.”

“Sure thing,” he answered. “Want me to see if I can set up some offices there at the station?”

“Yes, although my guess is that we’ll be spending most of our time at the truck stop. Especially if it’s as big as you say.”

“Oh, it is.”

“Well, let’s see if we can talk to both the truck stop and the police station. Wouldn’t hurt to have a base of operations at both sites.”

“Good call,” Had agreed. They would get a lot more done if they had a place they could work out of while keeping tabs on the drivers coming in and out. “Do you think the stop will be willing to work with us? It’s their customers we’re looking to bring in.”

“It’s your job to convince them.” Coop started to speak, then seemed to hesitate before continuing. “You’ve proven yourself to be much more useful than just this, but you liaising with the locals was why I wanted you on the team.”

“Oh.” Had felt himself deflate. He was just the hired help, the guy that went in front of the big circus posting up fliers. Not the ringmaster, not the lion tamer, not even the guy that swept up the poop behind the elephant. Not an integral part of the magic.

Agent Cooper must have seen the look on his face, because she stepped in with almost no pause. “I was afraid you might take it that way. You’re more than that, but you also need to know how important this part of it is.”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure no one throws Joshua in prison for being a vagrant.”

Coop smiled. “Sort of. But it’s more than that. You know how local law enforcement is when it comes to FBI involvement.”

That was true. The only one who had been excited when the BAU had come to Ann Arbor had been Had. Everyone else spent the entire time grumpy as all hell. Especially Had’s boss. The guy had spent those several days looking like a cross between a wet cat and a charging rhino.

He listened a little bit closer as Coop continued, “Without you, we wouldn’t be able to do much of anything out here. You’re excellent at it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The captain down in South Carolina. What would’ve happened there without you?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He started laughing. “You were so pissed off.”

“I know, and so were you, but you kept it together. I’m telling you, Had,” she continued, “you’ve ended up being more help that I’d imagined you could be, but I would’ve been thrilled with just your people skills.”

It was true. They were turning out to be a pretty amazing team. And with their combined talents, they couldn’t help but succeed in their task.

Humpty Dumpty was theirs.

* * *

Joshua inhaled, taking in the scent and taste of jet fuel, sweat and mold that was the heady bouquet of all the airports he’d ever been outside of. And that was a long list.

His head pounded, his body ached, and it felt like there was sandpaper attached to the backside of his eye sockets, grinding away every time he glanced to the right or the left. He hadn’t felt this bad in a long time. What the hell? He’d had less alcohol last night than he had in years. Wasn’t fair.

Bella scampered about, smelling everything she could get to within the arc made by her leash. She barked and pranced in front of a young girl coming out of the door behind them, who squatted down and started playing with her until her mother yanked her away. Joshua wouldn’t swear to it, but it looked like the mother was much more concerned about him that she was about the puppy. Normally that wouldn’t bother him, but right now he had to take deep breaths to stay calm.

They were standing just outside the Quad City International Airport in Moline, Illinois. From here it was a half-hour cab ride to Iowa 80, just over the border into the state next door.

Had was off to the side, talking with one of the passengers from the flight he’d made friends with. The new contact was a big, burly guy with hipster glasses, a flannel shirt, and jeans that were way too skinny for his frame. They were busy exchanging email addresses or something. Joshua couldn’t fathom the amount of energy that must go in to keeping up with the number of friends that guy seemed to make.

They’d had a layover in Chicago, where Had proceeded to gush to both Joshua and Coop, as well as three other customers at the pizza joint where they’d grabbed lunch, that it was his first time there. The young cop had asked every one of them if the wind they’d heard in the jetway was typical. If Joshua heard I guess that’s why they call it the Windy City one more time, he would’ve hurt someone. Okay. Not “someone”. That was far too indefinite. Had. He would have hurt Had.

Thinking of the gregarious cop, Joshua looked up to see that he was done with his conversation, and making a beeline over to where Joshua was standing. “So, I just texted Bilal, and he doesn’t know anyone out here,” Had groused as he approached, clearly upset that their cab driver’s connections had run out. He reached down in an absent fashion to scratch Bella behind the ears. She responded with a flurry of licks to his hand.

“Tragic,” Joshua responded, his tone dry. He rubbed at his eyes, wishing he could somehow reach the back of them. Man, this sucked.

“Right? Who knows what kind of crappy driver we’re gonna get now.” The young cop had yet to learn the intricacies of sarcasm, as far as Joshua could tell. But then Had perked back up. “Maybe he’ll be even better.” His face fell once more. “Who am I kidding? Bilal’s guys are the best.”

Joshua, for one, was looking forward to a driver who didn’t listen to some weird mishmash of international music styles or was obsessed with ethnic cuisine. A white bread cabbie who just wanted to drive sounded like the best idea he’d heard in a while.

They stood in the queue for taxis, and it wasn’t long before their turn had come. Joshua was relieved to note that the driver seemed to have no interest in talking with them. He was a short man with a medium build, a shaggy beard and a scar that cut his left eyebrow in half. It gave him the appearance of being surprised or skeptical, and even Had seemed a little intimidated by him.

Their first interaction didn’t go so well.

“No dogs in my cab,” the driver barked, as Joshua started to climb into the backseat.

“She’s a service dog,” Joshua shot back.

“Bullshit. That’s a puppy,” he responded, unconvinced. “’Sides, there’s no vest.”

“She’s in training, and the vest’s on order.” Joshua was fully prepared to dig in his heels on this one. As far as he was concerned, they could all walk to where they needed to go. Coop was being a little bitchy today and could probably use the exercise.

“No dogs.”

Then Agent Cooper stepped forward. Joshua tensed up, ready for the argument he knew was coming. Here was the proof positive she’d been looking for that Bella was a problem. This was a situation tailor made for her.

She flipped out her badge and flashed it at the driver. “The dog comes with us.”

The cabbie glanced at the ID, took one look at Coop’s face, and turned back to the front, grumbling something about pushy cops. It appeared to Joshua that Coop had won this little battle for him.

He didn’t trust it for a second.

“What?” he leaned over and whispered to her. “You planning on a side trip to the pound?”

“No,” she answered. “Bella’s part of the team now.” She reached over and ruffled Bella’s fur, while the puppy went into a wriggling fit of ecstasy. “Did you really put a vest on order for her?”

“Yeah. Had let me use his laptop. Which was a lot smaller than the one I had back at the agency. Oh, and Amazon’s changed a lot since then, too. It’s amazing.”

“Great,” she replied, and leaned back against the headrest, clearly done with the conversation.

What the hell was going on?

But Bella was in the cab, Coop was playing nice, and the driver didn’t seem to want anything to do with any of them. It was all shaping up to be a pleasant drive.

Maybe, just maybe, Joshua would have some peace on this trip.

No such luck. Five seconds into the drive, Had was trying to strike up a conversation.

“So, you been a driver for long?”

“No.”

There was a pause as Had appeared to recalibrate. “Oh, you’re new?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like it?”

“No.”

Another pause. Joshua could only guess what was going through the mind of the young cop. Perhaps he was looking for a question that couldn’t be answered with a simple yes or no. Joshua found himself rooting for the driver.

“What’s your favorite thing to do here in Moline?” Had asked, grinning. He seemed to have come up with a good one.

“Nothing. I hate it here.”

“Oh.” This had apparently been a good news/bad news situation. He’d gotten more than a one-word response, but still wasn’t anywhere close to starting up a real dialogue. Must be killing him. Joshua wasn’t too proud to admit that it made him smile.

“Did you know that there’s a building here in Moline that has thirteen-hundred solar panels?” Had asked, a bead of sweat standing out on his brow.

“No.”

“Or that it’s home to the only college campus on the banks of the Mississippi?” Joshua might be imagining it, but it seemed like a note of desperation had crept into Had’s voice.

“No.”

“Well, it is,” he said, his tone weak.

They were now exiting the airport, and their driver peered over his shoulder with some apparent reluctance. “Where to?”

“We’re headed to the Comfort Inn in Walcott,” Coop replied.

“You headed over to Iowa 80?” the driver asked, the first sign of life they’d seen gleaming in his eyes.

“Yeah, you know it?” Had asked.

“I love that place. Get out there as much as I can.” The man shrugged, his expression shy. “Studying to be a truck driver.”

“Really?” Had enthused. “I always thought that if I couldn’t be a cop, I’d want to be a trucker.”

“Wait. You’re a cop?”

“Yeah.”

The driver grinned, showing teeth that had been stained yellow from tobacco smoke. “I always said that if I couldn’t be a trucker, I’d want to be a cop.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Had stuck his hand over the back seat. “Name’s Had.”

“Darrel. Nice to meet you, man. So, are you a detective or just a beat cop…?”

Joshua groaned and leaned into the window. Maybe Bilal’s suggestions hadn’t been quite as bad as he’d imagined.

For the rest of the trip, the animated conversation between the two trucking and law enforcement enthusiasts continued, waxing and waning with the hum of the wheels on the road. The soothing murmur blended together in a cacophony of harmonious noise that would’ve put Joshua to sleep if he hadn’t felt rested for the first time in thirteen years. He reached down to rub Bella’s belly as she dozed in the well of the car down next to his legs.

Joshua had been right about the flight attendants. They’d squawked when they’d first spotted Bella nestled down in his arms, but one implication that Bella was a K-9 unit in training, and all had been forgiven. They’d even brought Bella her own bottle of water, giving her belly rubs and cooing over her, no more than fifteen minutes into the flight. That little pup was a charmer.

Even as the thought passed through his mind, she stirred and yawned. She did a little dance that made her butt shake until she fell down again. There was something about this little puppy that was stirring things inside of him that hadn’t felt movement for longer than he could remember. Her dependency, which in a person would’ve irritated him, did nothing but endear her to him even more.

And he’d only had four drinks last night.

It had gotten to the point that it took at least six or seven to see him through, or what sleep he did get would be plagued by nightmares. But he only had the one bad dream, and he’d slept until Agent Cooper finally woke him up for the flight out.

Ten hours. He’d slept for ten hours. Joshua couldn’t remember the last time he’d had four. He glanced over at Coop, who turned her head away as soon as she saw him looking. She’d been acting strange toward him all day. Probably as freaked out by his behavior as he was.

There was something about this whole scenario that was rubbing him the wrong way. On an intellectual level, he understood that less alcohol and more sleep was a good thing. It would eventually make him sharper, more able to outthink the killer. Not that any of that felt true right at the moment.

But it also could lead him into dangerous territory. It felt… healthy. Whole. Like there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He couldn’t afford to forget that at the end of this crime-fighting spree, a confrontation with four graves and an old man awaited him.

He would end up getting punished whether or not he wanted it to happen.

Peering down at Agent Cooper’s ankle, Joshua could make out the lump there. She was still wearing the monitor. Taking the heat for his problem, enabling his drinking so he could keep it together long enough to catch a predator. It was completely dysfunctional. In a strange way, he found that comforting. The road to redemption wasn’t paved with co-dependency.

He was still safe from the lure of salvation.

CHAPTER 13

Had surveyed the sprawling mini-metroplex that was Iowa 80. It was a sight to behold, and even more so than normal, at least according to Darrel, their cabdriver. Somehow, they’d had the good fortune to come to Iowa 80 right in the middle of their Truckers’ Jamboree. In addition to the huge building that was built almost like it was a cross between a huge house and a cabin, with multiple gables all across the roofline of the face that looked out onto the freeway, there were more trucks here than Had’d seen in his life. Big huge 18-wheelers, as well as smaller, more local freight. Bright rigs with garish colors and sweeping aerodynamic wind guards stood right alongside their smaller and more conservative brothers-in-wheels.

There were carnival rides, a pork chop cook off and live country music blaring through the hot, humid air of Walcott, Iowa. The smell of funnel cakes and cotton candy cut through the scent of the ever-present diesel fuel. Had was in heaven.

But much as the Siren song of the fairway… and the funnel cakes… was calling to him, Had knew there was work to be done. He pivoted on his heel and went back into the labyrinthine structure that was the hub of Iowa 80.

As he walked, his cell phone blared the theme from Psycho.

“Mama, what is it now?” he asked. “I’ve got to scope out this place.”

“Is that any way to greet your mother?” she answered. The reception was spotty, but not quite enough that Had could fake a disconnect. He immediately felt a stab of guilt for his thought and hoped that it wouldn’t travel through the phone connection. She was uncanny when it came to stuff like that. “I called to tell you that I ran into that redheaded girl again at the pharmacy. I’m tellin’ you Had. She could be the one.”

He sighed. How many times had he heard that one before? This one sounded intriguing, he had to admit, but now was not the time.

“Mama, we’ll talk about it later. I have to go.”

Why didn’t he just let the calls go to voice mail? Because she would know, and then she’d track you down and shoot you, a little voice inside whispered.

Okay, maybe she wouldn’t actually shoot him, but the voices had a point.

Inside the structure, Had found himself in the Super Truck Showroom. There in the middle of the floor was a bright yellow rig that was one of the prettiest sights Had’d ever taken in. Off to one side was a service kiosk, with a young man that looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was wearing a t-shirt that said Wikipedia is Accurate (citation needed). Had could tell they were going to get along great.

He approached the booth and waved at the attendant. The young man looked over his shoulder, apparently unsure of whether or not Had was waving at him.

“Hey there,” Had called out as he took the last few steps separating him from the stand.

“Uh… hey,” came the response.

“I’m Officer Kyle Hadderly. Do you have a second?”

The attendant pushed a hand through his stringy black hair and licked his lips. “Oh, you’re a cop.”

“Yeah, but I’m way outside my jurisdiction. I’m here helping out the FBI”

“You’re… you’re what?” the young man squeaked, glancing from side to side. “Hey, man… I didn’t know anything about that pot. I totally thought the guy was selling oregano, and my mom was making Italian that night…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Had soothed. “That’s so not what I’m here about. I don’t think the FBI even looks into that stuff.”

“All right,” he muttered, seeming to calm down a bit. “So what are you here for?”

“We’re tracking down a serial killer.”

“What?” The man’s voice cracked again, sending his pitch up into the stratosphere. “You’re hunting for a serial killer?” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “That’s cool.”

“I know, right?” Had responded, grinning. “It’s pretty awesome.”

“Yeah, totally,” he agreed, nodding his head. “Wait. Where did you say you were from?”

“Well, the other members of my team are from D.C. Sort of. One’s kinda living in New York right now. Expect that he’s not, because he got his car…” He stopped, confused for a moment. “You now what, it’s kinda complicated.”

“I get it. I’m complicated myself. Name’s Preston.”

“Hey, Preston.”

“So,” he continued. “Your team members are from D.C. or something like that, but what about you?”

“Oh, I’m from Michigan,” Had answered.

“No shit. I’m from Michigan, dude.”

“You’re kidding. What part?”

“Detroit.” Preston lifted his chin, almost like he was expecting a fight.

That gave Had pause, but only for a second. Detroit was like a foreign country when it came to Michiganders. It’s almost like they didn’t count. But Had wasn’t about to hold that against his new friend. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to rib him about it, though.

“Ooo. Detroit. Wait a sec. Aren’t your pants pulled up too high for you to be from Detroit?”

Preston laughed. “Yeah, my boss won’t let me wear ‘em the way I like. Total hater.”

Over the next few hours spent taking the lay of the land, it appeared that Had’d stumbled across help in the strangest of forms. They’d now bonded over a shared love of marble slab fudge and the gentlemanly sport of curling. That had to be some kind of miracle. No one this far south usually had any idea of what curling even was, unless they’d happened to catch it during the Olympics.

Had was thrilled to find someone with whom he could discuss the Spirit of Curling, the pros and cons of keen ice and the hog-to-tee time for the Olympic arena in Vancouver back in 2010, although Preston seemed to have some strange ideas when it came to the Spirit part. Had tried not to hold it against him too terribly

But they were both in accord when it came to the Olympics. Much as the Canadians liked to lord their superiority over anyone from the States, they’d both been pretty stoked that the men had beaten the Norwegians, especially after the women suffered that close defeat to the Swedes.

Now he had Preston on patrol, looking out for the suspects they were bringing in for questioning. Preston had actually recognized one of the most likely men on the list.

“That dude was freaked out, man. Like constantly looking over his shoulder and shit. Guy’s probably tweaking.”

“Keep an eye out for him. You can call me on my cell or shoot me an email. Oh, hey… add me on Facebook, okay?” There was wifi throughout the complex, and they should be able to chat with each other in pretty short order.

“Will do,” Preston waved to him. “Oh, and come by tomorrow. Got a dude coming in from Michigan, gonna bring me some black walnut fudge.”

Had waved back, already tasting the creamy confection. He’d be here tomorrow and would hang out the entire day if he had to in order to get a taste of that stuff.

It was only a few hours into the investigation, and Had already had secured a lead and an informant, who was looking like he might turn out to be a good friend, as well. Oh, and the fudge, of course.

This day could not be going any better.

* * *

Sariah hit the “end” button on her phone, finished with the latest call from the local chief of police. There was another body part, and it was right next-door in Cedar Rapids. If there had been any doubt in her mind, it was now fled and gone for good.

They were in the right place.

Cedar Rapids was about an hour northwest of Walcott, over on the I-80 and north up the I-380, both major thoroughfares for trucking routes that snaked through the area. Cedar Rapids was one of the destination routes of two of the truck driver suspects on which they had BOLOs.

Had was working his magic on local law enforcement, so when they got word of the body parts, the chief of police in Walcott had gotten in touch with her before anyone even had a second to process the scene. He was friends with the guys up in Cedar Rapids, and had asked them not to do anything until the BAU team could get there. Sariah, Joshua and Had would be analyzing a near pristine crime scene. That happened so rarely that Sariah had never experienced it firsthand.

The two men were waiting for her outside as she pushed her way past another group of truckers. There hadn’t been any way to avoid it, but trying to find their suspects while a huge trucking festival was going on, made their jobs both harder and easier at the same time. Most of the truckers in the area roundabout were either here or were going to get here in the next day or so, but there were so many people around, that finding the right ones was picking the proverbial needle, putting on a blindfold and throwing it into a field full of haystacks.

But the pictures and profiles of the men they were tracking down had all been passed around to the local cops, who were busy making their way through everyone already here. They were also stopping every new arrival. Word had begun to spread amongst the community.

In spite of that fact, Sariah had been propositioned in more ways and in more explicit detail than she’d ever experienced. And that included the week she spent in the Bahamas the year she hadn’t checked through the dates for Spring Break. She would have thought that horny college males were the pushiest when it came to asking for bizarre sexual acts. Turned out they had nothing on truckers. She was pretty sure that some of the things she’d been asked to do were physically impossible, as well as illegal.

This group was no different. She counted a total of three wolf-whistles, two requests and one attempt at a fondle. The last she evaded with a practiced move that left the short, balding man wringing his hand out in pain.

As she finally approached her two teammates, Had glared past her. “We need to set up an armed guard for you while we’re here.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I had no idea truckers were so… so…”

“Desperate?” Joshua finished for him, untangling himself from Bella’s leash. The enthusiastic young dog had managed to almost trip her owner. Twice. “You really couldn’t figure that out on your own? They spend ten months of the year out on the road by themselves. What do you think they’re going to do the remaining two?”

“Still…” Had continued, unconvinced.

“Had,” the former agent growled. “I’ve brought in more serial killers than I can count. Want to know how many of them were truckers?”

Sariah watched as Had threw his hands up in disgust. “Well, my idea of gentleman road warriors has now been officially tainted.” He harrumphed, then looked down at the phone in his hand as it buzzed with a text message. His face brightened. “I texted Darrel to come and get us. Looks like he’s on his way.” His expression shifted to something more resembling concern. “Don’t tell him about what happened with those trucker guys. It would kill him.”

“He’s studying to be a trucker,” Joshua muttered under his breath. “He knows. In fact, it wouldn’t shock me if we ended up seeing him in the room at some point.”

Had shook his head, clearly disappointed. It was hard for Sariah to tell who was getting the brunt of his displeasure, the truckers for letting him down, or Joshua for rubbing his nose in it.

The thought of the skeevy truckers led to another thought that had been on her mind. “Hey, Had, have you been able to set anything up with the police precinct here as far as an interrogation room goes?”

Had shook his head. “No, but I’ll get on it.”

Joshua stepped in once more. “I was thinking that we should try to do that here, if there’s any way we can swing it.”

“You want to interrogate them here?” Sariah looked around at the truck stop. “Don’t you think it’s a little…?”

“Yes, I do,” he replied. “It’s perfect. Truckers are antisocial by nature. Dragging them down to the station is just going to make them clam up.”

“Okay, okay,” she relented, then turned to Had. “See what you can set up.”

“Will do, boss.” Had grinned at her, his good humor apparently restored. Never took long, as far as Sariah could see.

The ride out to Cedar Rapids wasn’t as talkative as the last one Darrel had given them. The driver gave one look at Bella and just sighed. He seemed to have returned to his taciturn ways, and Had didn’t seem all that anxious to draw him out. Probably because he didn’t know how to avoid the topic of sleazy truck drivers.

When they got just outside the city, Had started back up again.

“Did you know that Cedar Rapids is called the City of Five Seasons?” he asked the driver, who shrugged.

“More like the City of Five Smells.”

“What do you mean?”

Darrel shrugged again. “You’ll see.”

Three minutes later, Sariah knew exactly what he was talking about. They drifted into a miasma of scent that somehow managed to incorporate the smells of cereal, dog food and something unpleasantly chemical into one of the worst experiences imaginable.

“Wow. That’s unpleasant,” she managed, trying not to choke.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Had said, sniffing the air. Then he seemed to get a full nostril of the scent. “On second thought…”

“How long do we have to stay here?” Joshua groaned, pulling his shirt up over his nose and mouth. The puppy down at his feet whined, pawing at her nose.

“Oh, shut up,” Sariah snapped back at him. “A couple of days ago your odor was much worse than this.”

“Yeah, but at least I couldn’t smell myself.”

She had no good response to that bon mot.

They made their way out to the Indian Creek Nature Center, where the crime scene was. According to the police chief in Cedar Rapids, there had been a couple of locals who had decided to take an afternoon’s walk through the grounds of the center, when they stumbled across a head sticking up out of the ground, attached to a neck and part of the shoulders, making it look like it was someone who had been buried standing straight up. It was directly underneath an old wooden bridge that spanned the ravine that held the creek. What the couple had been doing down off the path and underneath the bridge, no one had seemed to want to ask.

Bella was running around in circles, dragging her leash behind her. Sariah was resigned to the idea that the dog was now a part of the team, but this new development was one she was not happy about.

“Joshua, your dog needs to be on a leash here in the park. Can’t you read the signs?” she said, pointing at the notices posted everywhere around them.

“Oh, I can read them just fine. And Bella is on a leash,” he said, pointing at her. “See?”

“But the leash isn’t attached to you.”

“She’s walking herself. Very independent, that Bella. All part of her service dog training.”

Sariah sighed and gave it up. There was no way she was going to win this one, and maybe it was time to start picking her battles with the former agent.

The nature center had been formed from the properties of a couple of old farms, one of which now served as the main office and information building. There were bulletin boards up, with flyers for classes for adults and children… everything from nature walks to macramé lessons.

After the older woman with scraggly dark hair gave a disapproving look to Bella, she pointed them in the direction of the bridge. Sariah took a look around. It wasn’t bad, as far as nature centers went, and the smell of the city had either ceased to affect her as much, or it just wasn’t as strong now that they were out of the middle of the worst of the smells.

They hiked down to the bottom of the ravine, pushing past brush and low-lying tree branches. Bella danced in between the trunks, snapping at bugs and peeing every three steps, circling back to nose at her master as if to let him know he was slow. In the next moment, Joshua took a spring-loaded twig to the face and reached in to snap it off in retribution.

“You realize you’re fighting a tree, right?” she asked.

“Whatever.” He looked around, peering up at the bridge. “You know, this site is a lot closer to what I’d expect from Humpty, but it still feels… off… somehow.”

“Can you explain?”

“Just that it doesn’t really seem to be his speed.” Joshua opened up his arms, gesturing out to the surrounding area. “Alright, this is more secluded, but…”

Sariah could see he was working something out. Something that could prove to be important. She might not always trust his judgment, but she trusted his instincts, and they seemed to be screaming at him right now.

“But what?” she prompted.

“I don’t know, that’s just it!” he snapped back. “I mean, look at this city.”

“I’d rather not,” she muttered. “But what about it?”

“Well, Humpty would go to places that were out of the way, but it was always in cities that were at least sort of interesting. This place is a dump. The killer must have scampered away the first second he could.”

“That doesn’t seem so—”

“What about this?” he interrupted. “The pieces of the body aren’t buried any more…”

“That could just be a lack of time, or him getting bolder,” Had interjected.

“That’s the thing. He used to plan these things out with precision. And he didn’t change hardly at all.” Joshua appeared to be groping for a better way to explain clearly what it was he was feeling.

“Maybe he’s getting sloppy in his old age,” Had answered, unfazed by Joshua’s sharp tone. “He has to be at least in his early thirties, probably closer to 40 by now, don’t you think?”

“Don’t be an idiot. He should be getting more precise with age, not less.”

“Okay, boys,” Sariah stepped in. “Try to keep it civil in front of the local cops.” She pointed up ahead to where four officers from the precinct office were milling about. They’d gotten to the crime scene. Time for them to start working together.

Why did it seem like that was getting to be such an impossible task?

* * *

The head stared up at Joshua. Which was more than a little bit weird, since he was standing right above the dismembered torso. Bella had taken one look at the victim, given it a sniff and a growl, then cowered behind Joshua’s leg. Apparently she could tell there was something off about this, too. The killer had forced the head back, pointing the face up toward the underside of the bridge. It wasn’t quite at a ninety degree angle, but it was close.

This whole thing was just wrong, even more than the last time he was out at one of the crime scenes. It all just felt askew, like someone had taken the world, shaken it like a snow globe, then put it back on the shelf and tried to pretend that nothing had happened.

The local cops were less than helpful. Joshua had never been a favorite with the law enforcement officials of whatever place he had been dragged to for each case, even back when he was an agent. But at least back then, there had been a level of respect. Now, that professional regard was gone. It was like he was gum on the bottom of their collective shoe that needed to be scraped off and discarded.

“So,” began one of the cops, a Brian Ingram, if Joshua remembered correctly. He pointed to each of them in turn. “You’re FBI” He gestured at Agent Cooper, then turned to Had. “And you’re a cop from Michigan.” Officer Ingram then swiveled to look at Joshua. “But who are you with?”

“I’m FBI castrati,” Joshua fired back.

“What’s that mean?”

Coop stepped forward. “You don’t want to know. He’s a private consultant working with us on this case.”

“I get it,” he answered with a grunt. He clearly did not. “So do you mind if I ask what you guys are doing out here? You weren’t invited.”

“No, we weren’t,” Coop allowed. “But that doesn’t really apply here.”

“Oh, what? You’re FBI, so you can do whatever the hell you want?” Ingram spat in the dirt, as if to say exactly what he thought of the Bureau.

Joshua watched as Agent Cooper put on her poker face. “This case is interstate, so the same rules don’t apply in this instance. We’re already in the area working the case.”

“Yeah, you’re actually here at our invitation,” Joshua added.

Had stepped forward, placing himself in between the cop and Coop. “What they mean is, we’re excited to be working with you and grateful for your help.”

Ingram’s face puckered like he had just sucked on a battery. Apparently their presence here had ruffled more than a few feathers. In spite of himself, Joshua was beginning to see how much Had’s interaction was helping. The cops in Walcott seemed to be more than happy to have them there. And this guy here had already cooled off enough to stay civil.

“So, this killer of yours usually plop body parts down right where people can see them?” The policeman craned his neck up to peer at the bridge above.

No, he didn’t, Joshua thought. That was part of the problem. The body had been found by a couple that was down there getting freaky, where there was the danger of getting caught to add to the thrill. But they would’ve found the torso even if they had kept to the path. The head and torso were visible from the bridge above.

“This isn’t the first crime scene we’ve processed so far,” Agent Cooper confessed. “But it’s far from the norm.”

One of the other cops snorted. “Yeah. I’m not sure we can even see normal from where we’re standing.”

“Gives me the creeps,” confessed Ingram. “Like he’s looking right up at me.”

“Wait,” Joshua said. “Say that again.”

“It gives me the creeps,” the cop obliged.

“No, not that part. The other.”

“Um. He’s looking at me?”

Joshua walked around the partially buried body part, following the corpse’s line of sight with his fingers. It led him straight up above to a point on the bridge.

“Coop? Had?” he called.

The two moved closer, their eyes intent. Had walked over to the body, peering down on it with an interest that would have seemed creepy from anyone else.

“What’d you find, Joshua?” Agent Cooper asked.

“Check out the victim’s eye line,” he answered.

Had turned around, looking up at the bridge, then back down at the body. He went back and forth for a minute. “Looks like he was staring at the bridge.”

“He wasn’t looking anywhere,” Joshua stated. “He was placed this way by the killer. The killer is telling us where we should be looking.”

“So you think he’s pointing to us again?” Had asked.

Rather than answer, Joshua started back up the ravine, Bella yipping in excitement. As the neared the top of the ravine, the puppy scurried off in the wrong direction, leaving Joshua suddenly alone, as he’d outdistanced the rest of the team.

“Bella! Wait!” The dog stopped, looked at him with her head cocked off to the side, then ran off again. There was no way he was getting her back fast. Joshua waved to the cops and pointed at the spot on the bridge. “Go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He turned back to Bella, who was now sitting just a slight ways off, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Moving toward her, Joshua tried to get around behind the puppy, but she thought it was part of the game and started barking.

“Bella. Come here!”

His puppy was smart; Joshua knew that. She had to know how frustrating this was for him, but rather than accede to his wishes, the damn girl kept taunting him, messing with his head.

Wait.

That’s what Humpty was doing.

He was baiting them. Screwing around with them. Making them dance like marionettes on strings of his own designing. And they had been obliging him every step of the way.

That’s what was different about each of these crime scenes. Not just the external fact of their differences from before, but the shift in the very design of them. Everything in these sites had been done both for maximum exposure and maximum disruption. The serene garden in Ann Arbor. The hand in the sandbox in Charleston. The leg in Richmond. The torso here.

He had been baiting them. Joshua knew that. And it was escalating. He knew that, too. But that meant that the stakes would be raised as well.

Shit.

He ran toward the bridge, screaming and waving his hands for the cops to get away. As he rushed along, heedless of the scratches and scrapes from the flora and fauna around him, Joshua saw one of the policemen lift his head up, turning toward the noise, even as his companion bent down to look at something on the ground.

Something right in line with the gaze of the dismembered corpse below.

And then the world blew up.

The shock from the explosion threw Joshua back against a tree, his head striking the trunk with a thud that sent fireworks of pain and light dancing through his skull. Everything went dark for a moment as his vision tunneled inward.

He woke to Bella licking his face, whining and dancing around him. As he sat up, his head throbbing a dangerous tattoo, Joshua surveyed the damage.

A quarter of the bridge was gone. The cops were nowhere to be seen. Had and Coop were running up the hill toward him, Had sporting a bleeding gash on the side of his face, and Coop looked to be limping.

“Are you all right?” Agent Cooper yelled up at him. He heard everything through a slight ringing in his ears, making the entire scenario feel somehow disjointed and unreal. But a glance to the side, where one of the policemen had been thrown disabused him of that thought. The body was partially visible underneath rubble from the destroyed section of the bridge, but the neck was at an angle that made it clear the man was dead.

“Did any of them…?” Joshua fired back, ignoring her concern for him for the moment. He knew even before she shook her head what the answer would be. He had seen the group, clustered around the blast point. With the amount of damage that had been done to the bridge, none of the four could have escaped.

The Humpty Dumpty Killer had claimed four more victims, even as they were gathered around to try to piece together one who was already dead. And Joshua could have stopped it if he had realized in time.

Had and Coop were rushing about, seeking out the bodies amidst the rubble, doing what they could. Joshua knew better. There was nothing they could do. Sorting through the aftermath of the tragedy might feel like it gave them purpose, but it was short lived. They would discover that all too soon.

Their movements were like a backdrop of random noise that invaded his skull. An emotional tinnitus that kept him from being able to focus. At the same moment, it came with a bizarre sense of déjà vu, the sounds of concern and the actions of kindness unable to blot away the horror of the action. Voices all around him, calm and soothing, telling him that it would all be okay, it would be okay, it would be okay…

But he had known that it would never again be okay, even before the DNA evidence had come back. It was not an event that he could recover from. Not in this lifetime. There were some occurrences that the passage of years could not even begin to touch. And that one had started with an ill-advised fight with his wife, and had ended in a wood chipper.

This was a flashback to a darker period of his life, a moment in time when his existence had shattered into a million shards of black obsidian, raining down sharp destruction on anyone foolish enough to get inside the blast radius. This was only an echo of that crystalline epoch of glittering dreams obliterated, but Joshua felt the impact in his soul with the same intensity with which he had felt the physical blast from the bomb a mere matter of moments ago. He had been marked. Cursed. The pairing of the hurts, one emotional, one physical, were ganging up to tell him something. The message was clear.

Humpty was beating him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

CHAPTER 14

Had knew there were all kinds of reasons why he should still be with Joshua and Agent Cooper right now. They’d just finished almost getting blown up, for one. Joshua was due for a complete derailment, for two. And more time could be spent back at the nature center observing, taking pictures, categorizing information on the crime-scene-turned-blast-sight.

But he couldn’t be there any longer. The paramedics had bandaged up the cut on his face, as well as checking out Coop’s leg and Joshua’s possible concussion. They were all fine.

The local cops, however, were not.

It wasn’t like Had was inexperienced when it came to death. Growing up with a mortician as a father had given him a strong stomach for things that made other people squirm. There were only so many dead bodies you could be around before you realized that they were just meat.

But those weren’t usually people Had was talking to just moments before. And the aftermath, by the time it got to the mortuary, wasn’t as bloody as what had awaited them in the rubble after the explosion.

He wasn’t running away. He definitely was not running away. There were just things that needed to be done in connection with local law enforcement that it would be best to handle in person. Phone calls were so impersonal. There was no other reason for Had to be headed out to the police station in Walcott.

No other reason at all.

The station made Had homesick. The police department in Ann Arbor was bigger than this one, but up to this point, the other departments he’d liaised with had been larger and more organized than what he was used to. Here, he could feel himself relax. The building was nothing more than a glorified box with a roof that had been plopped down across the street from the fire station. No effort had gone into making it look pretty. Function over form all the way, baby.

As he walked through the entrance to the precinct building, a young brunette looked up from where she had her head bent over a file. Her eyes were a brilliant green that almost seemed like they were shedding their own light, they were so bright. She smiled a welcome.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I’m Officer Hadderly, with—”

“Oh, Had, right?” Her smile broadened.

“Um. Yes. How did you—?”

“Small office. Everyone talks.” She shrugged her shoulders, an almost-apology. “I’m Reggie. I work here part-time.”

“Reggie. Nice to meet you,” Had answered, shaking her outstretched hand. “What do you do here?”

“Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I dabble in forensics, but there’s not much call for that here. More of a hobby. Mostly I’m the I.T. girl.” She wrinkled up her nose. “To be honest, there’s not much call for that, either.”

Had chuckled. “I know what that’s like.”

“Oh, come on,” Reggie swatted at his arm. “You’re working with the FBI on a big murder case. You can’t know what it’s like to be stuck in a Podunk place like this.”

“You kidding? Up ‘til last week, I’d just barely been out of Michigan. I work in Ann Arbor. It’s bigger than Walcott, but it’s not huge by a long shot.”

“Come on,” she snorted. “We have a population of under two thousand. I’m pretty sure Ann Arbor’s a metropolis compared to us. I can’t even find indie music here, except for on Amazon.”

“You like indie music?” Had asked, enthused. “What groups?”

“Of Monsters and Men. Neon Trees. The Shins.”

Okay. It was possible that he was falling in love here. Reggie was stunning, her hair almost midnight black against skin that was the color of cream. She was buttoned down, but had an edge to her that was intriguing.

His phone rang. Psycho.

Seriously. Did his mama have some kind of bizarre radar? How she managed to know when he was talking to a woman was beyond him, but she had a knack for it that he would swear bordered on black magic.

“Sorry. It’s my mama. Gotta take this.” He waved an apology to Reggie.

“Don’t worry about it. Your mom calls, you take it.”

One more mark in the plus column, as far as Had was concerned. He pushed the “talk” button, and his mother’s voice flowed through the speaker.

“Honey, I’m startin’ to get worried about you. It’s been almost a week, and you haven’t been over to the house.”

Had sighed. “Mama. I’m working. And don’t tell me you didn’t call my boss and ask about this.”

“Well of course I did. What kind of mother would I be if I just sat here on my fanny?” She blew out a raspberry at him.

There was no response to that question that wouldn’t get Had in trouble, so he just gave a noncommittal grunt. He needn’t have worried. She motored through without waiting for a response.

“But I don’t believe a word that comes out of that man’s mouth. You know he was having an affair with Mrs. Johnson from the congregation?”

“Mama, that’s just—”

“Look, I don’t care. It’s none of my business,” she said, her tone pious. Then she turned on a dime. “Now, sweetie, you say you’re out huntin’ a killer? Fine. As long as you keep looking for someone that can give me grandbabies while you’re doin’ it. They have women out where you are, right?”

Had snuck a glance at Reggie. “Yes, Mama, they do. But—”

“But nothing. You know what the pastor said. Single men over 25 are a menace to society.”

“That wasn’t him; it was a quote. From some Mormon church leader from a long time ago. I looked it up.”

“What?” she gasped, her tone horrified. “But we’re Southern Baptists.”

Oh, great. This was getting better by the moment. Mama on religion was even worse than Mama talking about women. It was time to beat a hasty retreat.

“Okay. Gotta go.” Had hung up before his mother had a chance to talk about the pastor some more, or make him put any woman in the general vicinity on the phone with her. She’d do it, there was no doubt in Had’s mind. Mostly because she’d pulled that on him more than once already.

And right now, he didn’t want his Mama messing with his mojo.

Turning back to Reggie, he saw her wipe a smile off of her face. Yeah, it was pretty funny, now that he thought about how his side of the conversation must’ve sounded to her.

“That just ruined any chance I might’ve had with you, didn’t it?” he asked with a wry grin.

“Oh, I dunno,” Reggie answered, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. “A man that loves his mom is pretty damn cute.”

“Is that right?” Had leaned on the counter. “And what are your feelings on Latin dance?”

“Er. What?”

This didn’t bode well. “Latin dance? You know. Salsa. Merengue.” Nothing. He groped for another, more popularized example. “The Lambada.”

“Oh, I don’t dance any of those.”

“Really? Not even the Lambada?” Had could feel the chemistry seeping away.

“Never heard of that one, actually.”

“You’ve never…” he choked a bit on the statement. This was bad. Okay. Let’s try that one again. “You’ve never heard of the Lambada? The forbidden dance?”

“Sorry.”

A sigh slipped out of him before he could stop it. Reggie arched an eyebrow at that. This was going downhill fast, at least as far as any kind of potential relationship was concerned. Ah well. Perhaps it was not meant to be.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just this thing of mine.” He moved to change the subject. “I was actually coming in to see if we could set up an interrogation room with some of your guys. I just got word from Officer Chance over at the truck stop that he’s managed to find a couple of the suspects we’re trying to track down.”

“Right,” Reggie replied, her brow creasing. “We were talking about that earlier. Were you wanting to set up here, or over at the Iowa 80?”

That was excellent. Exactly what Joshua had been looking for earlier. “Well, if there’s a place there that would work, that’d be perfect.”

She nodded. “Oh, yeah. They have this area back behind the trucker’s lounge that would be perfect.”

“Oh, hey,” Had said. “I’ve got an idea.” He pulled out his phone and opened the Facebook messenger app. He’d added Preston, and they’d chatted back and forth a few times, mostly about curling. The guy had some wacky ideas about the Spirit of Curling. Must be the whole Detroit thing.

“I just texted someone at the truck stop. He should be able to help us coordinate the whole thing.”

“Perfect,” she answered. “Oh, there’s no observation room, but we could set up a video feed without any trouble.”

“Would that be you?” Had asked. He had a brief moment of imagining himself teaching Reggie how to dance the merengue during their down time. It was not going well, even in his mind’s eye.

What a freaking shame.

“Yeah. I usually help with any of the tech stuff that way. Audio visual’s totally included in I.T., didn’t you know?” She winked at him.

Well, at least the afternoon wasn’t a complete waste. They were getting an interrogation room right where they were doing their searching for suspects, he’d made a new friend, and he’d managed to stay away from the aftermath of the explosion. Not too shabby a list of accomplishments, even if he wasn’t all that proud of the last one.

The romance angle would just have to wait.

* * *

Sariah felt edgy.

Her ears still sounded with a high-pitched whine from the explosion that morning, and her ankle throbbed where the alcohol monitor had cut into the flesh of her calf. Getting tossed into the ground with that amount of force had not been the most pleasant experience of her life. It had also given her one more reason to be pissed off about still wearing the monitor.

And then she thought of the dead bodies that had surrounded them at the site, the corpses of the policemen that had been helping them track down a killer, and her complaints about her ankle seemed not just pathetic, but downright offensive. The stakes were getting higher by the moment, and Sariah could feel the weight of her inexperience.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the puppy nipping at the monitor on her ankle. She growled and barked at it, then looked up at Sariah with her head cocked to one side and her tongue lolling out. Cute.

She looked over at Joshua, who should have been minding the little devil of a mutt, but he was chatting with the young part-time policewoman who was setting up their audiovisual for the interrogation room. It was the first time Sariah could remember Joshua engaging with anyone on purpose. How she felt about it wasn’t as clear, especially with Bella doing what she could to tear the device off of Sariah’s leg.

At least they now had some suspects in custody. Officer Chance from the Walcott office had nabbed a third while they were setting up the space. Had was off with the officer, keeping tabs on the three individuals, two of whom had made the trip up to Cedar Rapids.

One of the other cops from the station, Officer Reggie Black, had come over to help convert one of the back rooms of the truck stop into a functional sweatbox. She looked up at Sariah from the installation she was performing.

“Could you step into the observation room and see if the feed’s working?”

Joshua stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

“Hey, thanks, Joshua.” Reggie smiled at him, a dazzling display of white teeth that was made all the more beautiful by the fact that it seemed to be genuine and unselfconscious. Bella trotted over to her, and Reggie reached down and scratched her behind the ears, while the puppy’s tail did what it could to wag itself off of Bella’s butt.

Sariah watched as Joshua darted into the other room. She was pretty sure she’d never seen him dart anywhere.

Strange.

He’d been crabby all day, and it had only gotten worse since the explosion. Now he seemed attentive, almost respectful. And it had started the second Reggie walked in.

Not a complete shocker, Sariah guessed. The girl was stunning. Flawless skin, radiant eyes, hair with a sheen that made it look like she had just stepped out of a commercial for deep conditioner.

But this was Joshua. Not only was almost twice her age, he was still beating himself up for the loss of his family. Not exactly the type that she’d expect to get twitterpated over a girl.

“So, what’s the deal here?” Reggie’s voice intruded on Sariah’s thoughts.

“Sorry. What?” She shook her head to clear her thoughts out. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you guys are tracking a serial killer, right?” Reggie waited for Sariah’s head nod as confirmation before she continued. “But Joshua’s not an agent, and neither is Had.”

“No. Had’s a cop and Joshua… well, he’s a special consultant.”

“Exactly. So… are you like hard as nails or something?” Reggie’s question was direct, but her manner was almost shy. Like she felt that she was treading on thin ice.

“No. Not that I’ve noticed.” Sariah said, her tone wry. If only this woman knew how un-nail-like she felt the vast majority of the time. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you have to be the one who’s in charge, since you’re the only agent here.”

Fantastic. Here was another person that thought Sariah wasn’t up to the task. One more voice that was screaming at her that she wasn’t good enough.

“Yes,” she answered, trying to keep her tone from becoming arctic. “I’m in charge.”

Reggie gave her a look that seemed sympathetic. “Must be tough.”

That was more than Sariah could take right now. Maybe on a day where she hadn’t gotten four people killed she’d be more polite, but at this particular moment…

“I can handle it,” she snapped at the woman.

Reggie’s eyebrows lifted in what looked like surprise. “Of course you can.”

“But…” Now Sariah was confused.

“I meant that it must be tough to be so young and beautiful and have everyone talk down to you.”

Sariah felt her cheeks flush, and she thanked providence for having blessed her with dark skin. Reggie thought she was beautiful? That was beyond a compliment.

“You must have the same problem,” Sariah replied.

The young part-time cop ducked her head. “You know how it is.”

Yes. She did indeed.

Joshua came back into the room, glancing from Sariah to Reggie and then back again. “Setup’s working.”

“Fantastic,” Reggie grinned up at him. Joshua fidgeted with his fingers. Wait. Did Sariah see that correctly? Joshua was nervous around someone?

“Would you mind watching Bella for me while we’re in there?” he asked the young cop.

“Sure, no problem,” Reggie said, scooping up the puppy and holding Bella’s face in her hands. “You’re a beauty. Yes you are,” she sang to the dog, then turned her attention to Sariah. “Wanna bring in the first guy?”

“On it.” Pulling out her phone, Sariah texted Had, letting him know that they were ready. They’d already decided on the order. They’d pull in the two that had made the trip up to Cedar Rapids first and see what popped.

The first one’s name was Keith Sanders.

As the suspect entered, framed by Had on one side and Officer Chance on the other, Sariah observed him. From what she had learned in her days at Quantico and from her limited field experience, the first moments of contact could tell her a lot about the person she would be interacting with.

Keith Sanders was a bundle of nerves, even his walk marred by a near constant twitching. He scanned the room, picking out every person within. His gaze flicked from Reggie to Joshua and then landed on Sariah. He made eye contact with her, then his eyes flicked down to the badge at her waist. He flinched.

There was something significant going on with this one. Whether or not it was something that related to their case had yet to be seen.

“It’s not him,” growled Joshua in her ear.

“What are you talking about?” Sariah answered back, irritated. “He’s almost vibrating he’s so nervous.”

“That’s speed.”

“What?”

“Amp, crank, ice. Whatever. He’s a tweaker.” Joshua sniffed, looking the suspect up and down. He kept his voice pitched only for her. “And he’s got the drug charges to prove it. Not only that, but if he were actually nervous, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be the guy we’re looking for.”

“Okay, that’s true, but—”

“Come on, you know the other guy’s better for it anyway. That hole in his rap sheet fits almost perfectly with the hiatus in killings.”

Much as it pained her to admit it, she knew Joshua was right. They were looking for someone capable of killing and dismembering person after person. Normal responses were not going to be par for this course. She might still want to talk to him, but if she was going to be honest about it, she was using him as a warm up.

She was afraid to screw up in the interrogation room.

Sariah moved in closer to the suspect. “Mr. Sanders, I’m sorry, but can we ask you to go back and wait for a bit? We would like to talk to someone else first.”

Had looked a question at her, but she shook her head, asking him with her eyes to keep quiet, at least until they could speak without any of the suspects present. He nodded.

“What’s this all about?” Sanders snapped, a tic starting in his cheek. “I got places to go. You can’t hold me.”

“No, but we can ask you for a drug test, then take you down to the station until we get the results back.” She let that sink in for a moment, then continued. “Or, you could wait for a bit and then just talk to us.”

The man looked all around the room before his gaze settled back on Sariah. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll wait.” He turned around, then whipped back. “Can I get some coffee?”

“Go back and bring in Curtis Howse,” Sariah spoke to Had. She then turned to the other cop. “And could you get Mr. Sanders some coffee?” She hesitated, then added. “Decaf.”

“Will do,” Officer Chance responded.

They filed out, Had to get the next suspect, Chance to get coffee while trying to keep his man from vibrating out of his grasp. It wasn’t looking like he was succeeding.

“Not the guy?” Reggie asked. When Joshua and Sariah turned to look at her she turned red. “Sorry. You don’t mind if I stay and observe, do you? We don’t get to question too many people around here.”

“Sure,” Sariah answered.

“No prob,” Joshua said at the exact same moment. Each of them turned to stare at the other one.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” Sariah told her, after an uncomfortable moment spent staring up at Joshua.

“But that wasn’t him, was it?” Reggie asked again.

Sariah started to respond, but Joshua cut her off. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Well, we’re not sure,” Sariah corrected him. “But there were some indicators that made us want to talk to someone else first.”

“The fact that he was high,” she stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Um. Yes, as a matter of fact. Good call.”

“Better than yours,” Joshua muttered at her in a stage whisper that was a bit too loud for Sariah’s taste. She ignored him.

“Why don’t you set up in the observation room, Officer Black.”

“Please. Call me Reggie. Or Reg. That works too.” She gave Sariah a smirk and disappeared into the back room where the monitor was set up.

At that point, Had was returning with the next suspect. Curtis Howse wasn’t at all like the man they’d brought in first. He was fairly short, with coarse and wavy dark hair. He moved like a stunt man, with a rolling gait that seemed to keep his feet in constant contact with the floor. There was something grounded about him. Confident.

“That’s more like it,” Joshua whispered. “Get this guy in the box.”

“Yeah,” Sariah answered, her tone pitched to match his. “I think you’re right.”

As they faced off across the table from the man, Sariah met his gaze. It was steady and even, and she felt a cold surge trickle down her back. This was someone who was used to getting things done.

Now it was time to figure out exactly what those “things” might be.

* * *

Had settled in next to Reggie, whose attention was divided between the screen and Bella. He watched as she lifted up a hand to brush her hair away from the side of her neck, moving it around to her other shoulder. Bella thrust her nose into Reggie’s face and licked her, which made Reggie smile and reach up to scratch her neck.

Man, this girl was gorgeous. And, unlike Agent Cooper, she seemed to love animals. Such a crying shame about the dancing. Maybe she made up for it in the math department? But still, how could he be expected to live a life without Latin dance?

He cleared his throat, and Reggie jumped about a foot out of her chair with a tiny scream. Jumping up, Had held out a hand as if to soothe her.

“I’m sorry. Sorry. Thought you knew I was here.”

“No, it’s me. I was so engrossed in what’s going on in there that I wasn’t paying any attention to anything else. Well, except this little one.” Bella had flopped over onto her back on Reggie’s lap and the young cop obliged by rubbing the puppy’s belly.

“I can see that,” Had answered, teasing her. She looked back with an exaggerated pout.

“You know better than anyone how cool this is,” she scolded him.

“Right? This is better than watching a movie,” he agreed.

They turned to stare at the screen, the sound a bit tinny as Coop introduced herself and Joshua, but it was intelligible. Reggie had set up three cameras, so they could see the suspect from a variety of angles. She seemed to know what she was doing.

“Nice set up,” Had whispered, trying not to distract her too much from what was happening on the monitor. Bella sat up and wagged her tail at him, possibly thinking he was talking to her. He reached out and rubbed her nose.

“Thanks,” Reggie responded. “I studied film for a semester in college.”

Agent Cooper was still sitting there, not speaking. What was she doing? And Joshua didn’t seem all that inclined to step in to fill in the gap. The suspect shifted in his seat a couple of times, and then finally spoke.

“Don’t want to talk?” Curtis Howse asked, his voice flat through the speakers of the monitor. The images onscreen were crystal clear, however. “Fine, I’ll start. Why am I here?”

“Why do you think you’re here?” Coop asked.

“Is it about what they found up in Cedar Rapids?” he asked.

“And how would you know about that?” Joshua leaned in, his face intent.

Curtis shrugged. “Please. I have a police scanner. Any trucker with brains has one.”

“So you heard about what we found up there?” Coop pressed. “Everything we found?”

The suspect shook his head. “I just heard that there was a body up there. Word spread pretty fast. That kind of thing doesn’t happen a lot out here in the Midwest.”

“So you hadn’t heard that it was only part of a body?” she asked.

“No.” He paused for a moment, as if to take that in. “So where was the rest of the body?”

Joshua pulled out a map and began writing x’s with a red marker. “Here. And here. And here. Oh, and here, here and here.” With the last here, the former agent circled the x and thrust the pen down, almost as if he were stabbing the location. It was the one in Cedar Rapids.

“Notice anything unusual about those locations?” Coop added.

“Uh,” Curtis grunted, leaning in to view the map. “They’re all over the place?”

“How about now?” Joshua added more x’s, locations of previous body part deposits from thirteen years ago. The map was beginning to look like a spider web, with tendrils and trails extending out in what looked like random patterns. But Had knew that those patterns were all related to trucking routes. This man’s trucking routes, to be specific.

“Hold on. There’s something weird here…” Reggie murmured at Had’s side, moving closer to the screen, her nose almost touching as she traced the routes. Bella bounded out of her lap and came up to Had, placing her paws on his thigh. He lifted her up into his lap. Reggie was still following the marks on the map.

Back in the room, the trucker also seemed entranced by the shapes described by the points of red. “This looks like…” He broke off, his gaze flicking from Joshua to Coop and then back to the map.

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Joshua crooned. “Familiar territory for you, isn’t it? In fact, I would say that it looks like your travel itinerary for the last fifteen years.”

“It is interesting,” Coop chimed in. “And by interesting, I guess I really mean uncomfortable. Painful, even.”

“I can’t be the only trucker that rides these routes,” Curtis said, leaning back and crossing his arms. It may have been Had’s imagination, but the trucker seemed to have lost some of the confidence he walked in with.

“That’s true,” Agent Cooper said. “But let’s take a look at your rap sheet.” She pulled out a page from the file folder in front of her. “Stalking. Peeping. Public indecency. Breaking and entering. That’s not a short list.”

Curtis blew out air between his lips. “I haven’t been arrested for a long time.”

“Yeah, that’s part of what’s so interesting,” Joshua purred. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it? Thirteen years to be exact.” The former agent raised an eyebrow. “What happened thirteen years ago?” There was a strong current of menace that was creeping into Joshua’s voice, and the trucker hadn’t failed to notice it. The man scooted his chair back away from the source of conflict and licked his lips.

“I… uh…”

Joshua snarled at him. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think that thirteen years ago something happened. Something that scared the shit out of you. You know who I am, don’t you?”

The man’s forehead creased together as he looked closer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? You sure? Take a closer look.” Joshua leaned across the table, getting in the man’s face. “I’m the face you see in your nightmares.”

“You… ah… you’re getting a little close…”

“I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable? Look too much like the woman and three children you killed and threw in a wood chipper?” By the end of the sentence, Joshua was standing up, the cords of his neck standing out against his skin. A pulse beat in his forehead. Had was mesmerized, but at the same time he thought what a lovely job Reggie had done with the audiovisual setup. Bella, hearing the change in her owner’s tone, barked at the screen.

“Hey, I don’t have any idea what the hell you’re talking about,” the trucker responded. It was hard to tell under the lights, but it appeared that he was getting more and more pale by the moment.

Reggie was still peering at the screen. “There’s something about those points on the map…”

And then Joshua was up and around the table almost before Had could blink. His face was inches away from Curtis’. The former agent spit the words out, each word articulated and clear.

“You killed my family. Did you think that wouldn’t come back around at some point?”

Agent Cooper moved over to Joshua’s side. “Okay. I think we need to take a second here…”

Curtis, on the other hand, seemed to be done. “I don’t understand what he’s saying, but I think I need a lawyer.”

Coop’s shoulders slumped, and she pointed Joshua toward the door as she spoke to the suspect. “That is your right. Are you sure you want to invoke it? I can’t help you once a lawyer gets involved.”

The trucker looked up at Agent Cooper, then over to Joshua, who was still staring the man down as if he were trying to peer inside Curtis’ soul. Shaking his head, the suspect spoke again.

“Yes. I want a lawyer.”

And just like that, the interrogation was over. Had was sure it would start back up again, but the next time, the trucker would be hiding behind his representation. They would never have the same opportunity with the guy that they’d had… and blown… right now. And from the look on Agent Cooper’s face, she knew it.

It was clear that there were about to be some sharp words, most of them directed at Joshua. Things were about to get ugly on their little team.

And Had was pretty sure that he was going to get caught in the middle.

CHAPTER 15

Joshua’s head throbbed as he took the scolding from Coop. Bella was prancing around at his feet, trying to get his attention, but he could do nothing with her at the moment. He knew he deserved every bit of what he was getting from Agent Cooper right now. There was no doubt in his mind, or anyone else’s who had been watching, that he had royally screwed the pooch here. Losing it in the middle of an interrogation was never a winning tactic.

But while Agent Cooper continued to berate him with the number of ways in which he had made their job here more difficult, Joshua went over the conversation in his mind. And there were some things that didn’t fit.

True, the guy had been in each one of the locations of the body part deposits, on or near the time they would have been left. Yes, he fit the profile Joshua and Coop had spelled out, which included the parameters Joshua had teased out when he was working the case the first time around. Male, 35 to 60, with a criminal record that pointed toward preplanning. A loner, a drifter, with antisocial markers.

Curtis Howse was a bull’s eye on just about every level.

Which is one of the reasons that had pushed Joshua over the edge. It had to be him. He was perfect.

But while Joshua was having what was close to an out-of-body experience there in the box, a part of him had remained calm, a third-party observer. It almost made Joshua wonder if he’d somehow gone ape-shit-crazy on purpose.

And what he’d seen was a man who had no idea what was going on. Curtis Howse was either the best actor Joshua had ever seen, or he was innocent. Well, innocent of these crimes, at any rate. Something strange was going on with the guy, but it might not be what they were trying to pin on him.

It just felt… off.

“And finding enough to convict him just got infinitely harder,” Agent Cooper was saying. She was right. But what if she were wrong, too?

“I don’t think it’s him,” Joshua replied, speaking in a brief pause that Coop had taken in order to draw breath.

“Excuse me?” she fired back. “Were we not in the same room together?” Bella growled at her, and Coop stared back at the puppy until she circled back behind Joshua’s leg with a whine. He looked back up at Agent Cooper.

“I know, it seems crazy—”

“No, you are what seemed crazy. Back in there, when you went off the reservation. Which is why I’m stunned that you’re now doing a one-eighty on me now.”

“I’m not,” Joshua shot back. “Not completely. I just think—”

“It’s him, Joshua. He’s Humpty.”

“No, you just want him to be.”

She glared at him. “Of course I do. We’ve got a guy in there who practically screams ‘reasonable doubt’. If it’s not him, the prosecuting attorney’s going to be screwed.”

“That’s their problem. We can’t worry about that. We just follow the evidence.”

“Which is exactly what we’re doing.” She looked at him and shook her head. “And you blew any chance we had of getting a confession.”

Joshua stared back at her. “Are you shitting me? If he was Humpty, there was no way we were going to get a confession, period.”

They had drifted from the interrogation room over toward the main area that they had set up for a workspace. Had and Reggie had come out of the observation room and were doing what they could to pretend like they weren’t there.

Like Reggie could ever manage to do that.

“I don’t know what you were doing in there, but I was going for a confession,” Agent Cooper said, continuing the argument.

“Only because you’re inexperienced and naïve. This is the reason why you could never work this case without me.” From Coop’s sudden stillness, Joshua could see that he’d taken it too far, but he couldn’t stop himself. “If you were alone on a case like this, you would be eaten alive.”

“And yet,” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “I wasn’t the one that sent four officers up to their deaths.”

Joshua felt all of the blood rush from his face. She was right. There was no denying the reality of what Agent Cooper had presented. That was something she did so well. Correct data with no apologies.

Turning on his heel, Joshua scooped up Bella walked away from Coop, away from Had and Reggie, away from the team and the investigation. All of it. In a matter of seconds it had gone from being an argument to being a millstone hung around his neck while he was treading water in the middle of an ocean.

And this was going to drown him.

Right as he was walking out the door, he heard Had call out to him, “Joshua, hold on a sec.”

But there was no way that was happening. Joshua was heading straight to his hotel room. That was the only choice that didn’t make him want to punch someone in the face right now.

Once he was in his room? Well, it was a new day there at the hotel, which meant that housekeeping had been through. Which meant there would be a fresh stock of mini bottles of alcohol waiting for him.

If there was ever a time he needed a drink…

As he walked, the faces of the four cops flashed through his mind’s eye, their expressions somehow much kinder and more benevolent than they had been in real life. To be honest, Joshua had found them all to be small-city pricks with power complexes. To a man.

And yet…

It was all on Joshua. He had been the one to realize the link between the gaze of the corpse and a possible message above. It had been he that had pointed the cops in that direction. He who had gone off after a puppy at the very moment the bomb erupted in volcanic fury.

He scratched Bella’s chin absently as the thoughts rushed through his mind in rapid succession. She thrust out a wet tongue that caught him on his cheek and for a brief moment made him smile.

A very, very brief moment.

These black thoughts swirled around him in a dark cloud of rebuttal until, seemingly out of nowhere, the door to Joshua’s room materialized in front of him. He pulled out his key card and swiped it through the reader with shaking hands. The light turned green—a first for Joshua, who had never managed to get in to his room without swiping the damn thing at least four times.

He pushed past the door, deposited the dog on the floor, and went right to the mini fridge. The bottles stared back at him, a row of beautiful, glistening jewels that were waiting for him to press the sweet nectar out of their glassy, hard facets.

His entire body was trembling, and his knees felt loose and watery as he moved back and forth between the fridge and the sink, stacking all of the bottles on the counter. He stopped counting at eight.

With hands that refused to grip with a solid purchase, Joshua opened up every one of the tiny containers in front of him, emptying the contents into the bucket that was supposed to be used for ice. He did so with no regard to what he was mixing together. The labels were all blurred, his vision crossed and dim, as if he were moments from passing out. Whatever this concoction was, it would not taste good.

But that was the last thing on Joshua’s mind. There was a gaping hole in his stomach that was growing too big for his body to contain. It was an abyss that could only be filled with the fiery burn of the alcohol as it ran down his throat into the pit.

That glow would save him. It would fill him. He wouldn’t have to drown in his own emptiness.

The liquid sloshed in the bucket as Joshua held it up to his mouth with hands that could not follow his brain’s most basic commands for steady movement. The fumes from the mixture invaded his nostrils, causing the tender flesh inside his nasal passages to wrinkle back as if it could escape the punishment about to be administered.

Tilting the container back, Joshua felt a tugging at his ankle. Bella had dragged her leash over and was now biting at his pant leg, her tail wagging with a ferocity that only the young and exuberant could muster.

He shook his leg, dislodging the enthusiastic puppy, who then proceeded to prance in front of him, barking and wagging her tail. She wanted to play.

“Stop it, Bella,” he snapped at her. What had gotten into her? There was nowhere for him to go to get away from the stupid dog. She was between his feet, in front of them, behind them, seemingly all at once. He moved to put the bucket down on the sink so he could move her… maybe stuff her in the bathroom for a moment… when somehow she was entwined in his legs.

Joshua felt Bella’s soft body give against his foot as he kicked his leg out to try to catch his balance. She yelped once, a pitiful cry, as she was propelled against the corner of the king bed in the middle of the room. Her form went still as it slumped to the ground.

Thrusting the bucket down on the counter of the sink, Joshua barely noticed as it tipped over and the amber fluid within began sloshing down the drain. Instead, his focus was on the tiny body crumpled up in a heap at the foot of the bed.

As he got closer, he could see that her ribs were rising and falling with her breath. She wasn’t dead. And when he crouched down next to her, she stirred, looked up at him and licked his nose, making him sneeze.

He scooped her up, her wiggling making it clear that there was no permanent damage. Bella was as happy as ever, the incident apparently forgotten as far as she was concerned. Her whimper, which before had dug into Joshua’s soul like an awl through tough leather, now caused warmth to filter down into the dark recesses of his heart.

Moving over to the bed, Joshua cradled the puppy in his arms, surprised to find that tears were streaming down his cheeks. The idea that he had almost killed or even just hurt this little one was more than he could bear.

His arms shook, whether from the onset of alcohol withdrawals or a residual effect from the scare he had just suffered, Joshua neither knew nor cared. What he did know was that everything was okay.

The drink that was so necessary only moments ago was now intoxicating whatever denizens of the sewer system that might be circling the drains down below. And yet, with Bella snuggled up against his chest, radiating the kind of heat that only tiny puppies could, all was well with the world.

Bella was safe and sound. And so, miraculously, was Joshua.

* * *

Sariah knew that she had messed up. No matter the provocation, speaking to Joshua in that way about the cops that had died in Cedar Rapids had not been okay. Not in the slightest.

The problem was, she now had no idea what to do about it.

Joshua had stalked off, probably to go back to his hotel room and down whatever his minibar might contain. She couldn’t really blame him. After the day they’d had, Sariah wanted a drink herself. Too bad she was wearing the ankle bracelet. That may not have been one of her best ideas, looking at it in retrospect.

The hotel wasn’t far. Just on the other side of the freeway. The night air, still summery, but much cooler than the day had been, smelled of burnt rocks, gasoline and grass. It was a smell that felt like travel during summer break. Back before everything had gone bad. There were moments when it felt like she understood Joshua perfectly.

As Sariah stretched her arms, doing what she could to convince herself that chasing down the former agent was a good idea, a voice came from behind her. At the same moment, a hand settled on her shoulder.

“You okay?” It was Reggie.

Turning on her heel, Sariah spun to face the part-time cop. Her face burned for some unknown reason. “Yeah.” She stopped, then reconsidered her answer. “Well, actually, no.”

“Good.”

Sariah did a double take. “What did you say?”

“Sorry.” Reggie grimaced. “I seem to do that with you a lot, don’t I? I meant that… well, that it’s good that you’re worried about him.”

“Oh, right.”

The young cop started to speak, then seemed to think better of it, then finally asked, “Are you two…?”

It took Sariah a bit to figure out what Reggie was talking about. When the meaning of the partial question dawned on her, she almost laughed.

“Us? No. Hell, no.”

“Good.” Reggie gave her another half-smile and disappeared into the night. Now what was that supposed to mean?

Shaking off the encounter, Sariah made the trek back to the hotel. There was some residual heat that remained in her face, whether from her argument with Joshua, the encounter with Reggie, or her fear about what she would find at the hotel, she couldn’t say for sure.

When she found herself outside Joshua’s hotel room, she sat staring at the bland, eggshell colored surface for a long while. There was a part of her that had no desire to know what was happening in there. If she didn’t find out, she could pretend. Pretend that it had just been a typical argument between two colleagues, and that she didn’t have anything to feel guilty about.

But Sariah was never one for hiding from hard truths. They weren’t going to go away just because she decided to bury her head in the sand.

She knocked, but there was no answer. Fantastic. This was looking to be just about as bad as she’d feared. Pulling out the key card, she swiped it through the reader and eased the door open, hoping that she wouldn’t catch Joshua coming out of the shower or something.

She needn’t have worried. There, resting on the counter of the sink, were twelve tiny bottles of alcohol. It appeared to be the entire stock from the minibar. Moving farther into the room, Sariah could see that Joshua was passed out on the bed, with Bella resting in the crook of his arms.

Twelve drinks. That was a lot, even for Joshua. Concerned, she took a closer look at the sleeping form and waited until she could see that he was still breathing.

So, at least he wasn’t dead. And a night of binge drinking was probably not the worst thing that could have happened after a day like today.

She stopped herself. Who was she kidding? That was binge drinking for a normal human being. For Joshua, it probably didn’t even crack the top one-hundred for moments of drunken excess. It wasn’t her fault. He had been like this when she found him. Worse.

So why was it that her stomach twisted with guilt as she let herself out?

* * *

The bing of an alert on his laptop distracted Had from his morning toilet. Luckily, he’d just finished shaving, and he was debating the whole shower situation. He’d heard that showering too often could rob you of your body’s natural oils and masculine scent. Who knew when he might need a little extra magnetism boost from his own pheromones?

All thoughts of a shower were thrust from his mind, however, when he saw what the alert meant. He’d set his program to activate when certain search parameters changed, or when new information popped up that was relevant to their case.

And sure enough, it had worked. Back farther to the west, out in Tucson this time, someone had been kidnapped. And it just happened to be within ten miles of their prime suspects trucking route.

This was big news, and it needed to get to Agent Cooper right away. He threw on some clothes, once more regretting the demise of his shrink-to-fit jeans, and ran out the door. As he hurried down the hall, he almost ran straight into Joshua’s back. The former agent was apparently headed down to breakfast as well. With Bella in tow, her service dog vest on proud display. Had thought it suited her.

“Sorry about running into you.”

“No problem,” Joshua answered. Had almost stopped dead in his tracks. Were his ears functioning correctly? It sounded an awful lot like Joshua being okay with an accidental jostling. Had shook his head. Must have been his imagination.

“Hey, that vest looks awesome on Bella. Where’d you get it?”

“Amazon. Came in this morning,” the former agent replied.

“Gotta love them. You headed down to breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

Another first for Joshua, at least as far as Had could remember. Not that Joshua never ate breakfast. He just didn’t do it all that willingly. And since Coop was nowhere in sight, Had figured it must be of Joshua’s own volition.

Good for him. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, after all. He clapped his hand on Joshua’s back, realizing belatedly that it might not have been the best idea. When there was no immediate response from the former agent, Had continued.

“I’ve got something. I’ll wait until we’re all together to tell you, though.”

“Whatever.” Now that was more like Joshua. Had let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

When they got down to the dining area, Coop looked up from her English muffin and jam. She nodded to Had, and then her eyes moved to Joshua and seemed to leap out of her face. Choking on her food, she waved at them to sit down.

“Joshua. I didn’t… I mean, I… How are you?”

The former agent pulled Bella up into his arms and shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Well, you… Ah…” Agent Cooper visibly pulled herself together and started again. “I wanted to apologize for—”

“Don’t.” Joshua held up a hand. “It was all true, and I needed to hear it.”

“But I—”

“I mean it, Coop. It’s important for me to remember that my actions have consequences, even when I can’t see what they are.” He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t promise that my behavior’s going to change all that much, but I’ll at least try to be aware of what I’m doing.”

Something that Agent Cooper was eating didn’t seem to be going down well. She seemed to be trying to swallow, then finally held up a glass of orange juice and took a deep gulp.

“Okay. Fine. But that explosion wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. There are some things that we just can’t control.” He sat down at the table and rubbed his hands together. “So, let’s order, Had. I’m starving.”

He lifted a hand, getting the attention of one of the servers who was finishing up with another table. As the woman moved over to their table, Had could see that Coop was staring at Joshua, her gaze focused. Had couldn’t say for sure, but the expression on her face seemed to be one of disbelief or shock.

“What can I get for you two good-lookin’ men?” the server asked. She glanced down at Bella, noticing the vest. “Wow. That pup of yours seems awful young for a service dog.”

“Long story,” Joshua mumbled, grinning up at her. She was an older woman in her late 50s, smacking gum as she held a pen over a pad of paper, ready to take their order. Had thought she looked and acted perfect. She was the epitome of a greasy spoon diner waitress.

“Well, we don’t have much on the menu for canines, but I can get something for you two, at least,” she said, smiling back at Joshua. She seemed fairly taken with the scruffy former agent.

“I’ll have the chicken-fried steak and eggs, eggs over-easy, with an order of hash browns, toast and pancakes on the side. Oh, and some coffee, black, and a carafe of orange juice.”

This time Had was right there with Coop. They both swiveled their heads and goggled at Joshua. Getting him to order even just the cup of black coffee was usually like pulling teeth. What was going on here?

Then Had realized that the server was looking at him, waiting to take his order. He’d been just staring at Joshua, gobsmacked at the idea that Joshua was going to eat. And not just a mamby-pamby little quiche or something. He was eating. A lot.

Had cleared his throat and ordered something. What it was he couldn’t have said. But the server had nodded without any commentary, so it must have been something fairly normal. He hoped he hadn’t ended up ordering menudo or something crazy like that. Not that this was the kind of place that served menudo.

“You said you had something you wanted to share with us, Had?” Joshua mentioned. He was filling up a bowl on the table with some water and putting it down next to Bella. His words seemed to trigger something in Coop, as her eyes seemed to refocus and she shook her head.

“I’ve got something, too.”

“Go ahead, Coop,” Had told her, waving at her to speak.

“Well, I just got word from the BAU that another body part was found. It falls on the route, nothing out of the ordinary as far as the site goes… it had been there for a long time judging by the level of decomp. But there was one thing that was different.”

“No message this time?” Joshua asked. Agent Cooper winced, probably from the reminder of what had occurred yesterday.

“No, but the body part was one of the arms that was still missing from our body,” she said, taking another sip of her orange juice. “That only leaves its opposite now. But here’s the thing. There were ligature marks on the wrist. Pre mortem.”

Joshua sat back and rubbed his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “So he’s been keeping the victims tied up before he kills them. That’s new.”

“It’s also good news, right?” Had asked. “I mean, not that he’s tying them up, but that there’s maybe more time before he kills them and cuts them up.”

Coop nodded. “According to the M.E. in Denver, where the arm was found, the marks looked like they were made over the course of at least two or three days.”

Had breathed out a long sigh. “That’s possibly really good news.”

“Why, what’s up?” she asked.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to tell you. There’s been a kidnapping reported down in Tucson, Arizona. And it’s right along Mr. Howse’s route.”

“When did it happen?”

“That’s the kicker. It was while we had Howse in custody.” Had knew it wasn’t anywhere close to being conclusive, but they’d need to open up their investigation to some other possibilities.

Their server returned at that point, but got tripped up in Bella’s leash. She tilted forward dangerously, the carafe of orange juice slipping off the tray and landing square in Joshua’s lap. He leapt up, brushing the juice out of his lap.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the server yelped, setting down the rest of the food and grabbing a cloth from where it was draped in front of her apron. “I didn’t see the dog there, and I just…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Joshua said. “It was an accident. No big deal.”

Once more, Had and Coop were left speechless. It was like they had stepped into some kind of alternate universe with some anti-Joshua who was… nice.

That was so not okay.

“Well, darlin’, I’m of the opinion that it’s a huge deal,” their server corrected him. “Your breakfast is on the house. Least I can do.”

“It’s really no problem,” Joshua reaffirmed. “But thank you.”

And with that statement, it was confirmed. As far as Had was concerned, Joshua had been taken by aliens and replace with some kind of simulacrum. Glancing at Agent Cooper, it seemed pretty clear that her thoughts were going in the same direction.

So the only question now, was how long they could keep this version.

CHAPTER 16

Facts are stubborn things.

It was a quote from John Adams, and right now it wouldn’t leave Sariah’s head. She knew that the news of the kidnapping was significant information. It was even something that she’d anticipated.

But it was interfering with her clear idea of who the killer was. At this particular moment, she was a bigger fan of Reagan’s famous misquote of the same phrase, Facts are stupid things.

Or even better. Facts are the enemy of truth. That was one that was attributed to Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, but it wasn’t really him. It was Dale Wasserman. It came, not from Don Quixote, but from The Man of La Mancha, a musical based on the Spanish novel and written in 1965, not 1605.

There was probably a lesson in all of that, but Sariah was too tired and pissed off to try to tease out the meaning of it. At the end of the day, what it meant was that they had to start back at the head of the trail, even if it was just to cover their bases.

As far as she was concerned, Sariah would much rather just stay on Curtis Howse until he cracked. She sighed. Maybe they could do both at the same time.

Joshua and Sariah were in their makeshift office at the back of the truck stop, Bella playing with a chew toy Joshua had purchased for her earlier. It was a squeaky toy in the shape of a semi that said Trucker Dog on it. She seemed to love it, and was busy throwing it up in the air and trying to catch it on the way down.

Had was off talking to the attendant from Michigan, with whom he seemed to have struck up an ongoing friendship. There was a shocker. If they ever came across someone that was immune to Had’s cheerful demeanor, that would be a major cause for concern.

They had been pursuing alternate leads since Had’s bombshell about the kidnapping victim that morning. Although there had been some promising starts, Sariah couldn’t help but compare all of them to the near-perfection that Curtis Howse had been. And still remained, as far as she was concerned.

She was just about to call out to Joshua to see what he was working on, when Had burst in, with Reggie and the weird attendant in tow. Bella scooted over to greet each one of them, making sure they all got plenty of licks in the process. Had was almost vibrating, he seemed so excited.

“Guys! Guess what?”

“You started eating Activia and your bowels have never been more regular?” Joshua deadpanned. Well, look who was clearly watching lots of television now? Sariah stifled a chuckle.

“How did you know that?” Had asked, surprised. He seemed to think about that for a moment, then waved it off. “That’s not what I wanted to tell you, though,” he gushed. “I was talking to Preston when Reggie showed up.” He gestured to the young local cop, who blushed and waved.

“Sorry. I’m not a stalker. I just don’t have anything to do over at the station, so…” She made and held eye contact with Sariah, almost as if she were asking permission to be here.

“Of course you’re not a stalker,” Had admonished. “No one thinks that. Anyways, she didn’t have a chance to say anything about it yesterday, but she saw something when you guys were in the box with Howse.”

“I might have seen something,” she amended. “I’m not positive.”

“Are you kidding?” Had almost shouted. “This stuff is gold. Even Preston thought so.”

“Yeah,” Preston mumbled. “It was pretty bitchin’.”

“Go on,” Had urged Reggie. “Tell them.”

“Well,” she started, appearing a tad embarrassed. “Did you know that the points on that map are identical to the stops of a bunch of historical railways?” She pulled out what looked like a copy of the map they had been using yesterday, replete with the requisite red x’s.

“What?” Joshua asked.

“Look,” she said, glancing at him for a moment before spinning back toward her copy. “This one here’s the Beefsteak and Onions, and there’s the Bums, Robbers & Pickpockets. Oh, and the Clickety-Bang over this way.”

Sariah’s mind was on overload. It was like she was listening to words that were supposed to make sense, but were something out of a Dr. Seuss story. Or Shel Silverstein.

“Are those real routes you’re talking about?”

She gave Sariah a confused look, then chuckled. “Oh, right. I forget that sometimes I use the nicknames.” She traced one of the routes along from point to point. “The Bums, Robbers & Pickpockets line was the Buffalo, Rochester and Pittsburg route.”

“How did it get the nickname?” Had wanted to know.

Reggie gave him a smirk. “How do you think? Take the first name of each of the cities, and then the general perception of the people riding the rails on that route.”

“So, when Reggie started talking about it,” Had jumped in, “Preston here was chiming in left and right. Turns out he’s a railroad enthusiast, too.”

“My granddad was an engineer,” Preston said, his tone more clear than Sariah had heard it yet. Apparently his grandfather pulled some sort of pride out of the kid. “He taught me all about the old routes.”

“Reggie and Preston think that there’s a connection between the train lines and the body parts,” Had said.

“Well, I said that there might be,” Reggie corrected him. “They don’t all correspond to present day routes.”

Sariah thought about that. While she was reluctant to let go of Curtis Howse as a prime suspect, she had to admit that what they had brought was compelling.

“Hobos,” Joshua grunted. He was leaning over the map, tracing the routes with his fingers. Had or possibly Reggie had traced both the old lines and the new.

“What?” Sariah asked.

“That’s who we’re looking for,” he answered. “One of the hobos. Someone who rides the rails.”

“Yes, but—”

“Think about it,” he cut her off, ticking the points off on his fingers. “He knows all the old lines, so he’s probably somewhat of an old-timer himself. He’s antisocial, possibly crazy… about thirty percent of homeless people are. He gets around, could drop off body parts as he’s going. Possibly store the bodies on refrigerated cars.”

“Okay, okay,” Sariah relented. She could see that there were some facts there that were hard to deny. Stupid facts. “There’s definitely enough there for us to start looking.”

As the rest of the group began to scurry around, new life and energy infused into the very air they seemed to be breathing, Sariah slumped into a chair, deflated. She was doing everything right, and Howse was practically screaming that he was the guy.

So what the hell were they doing chasing down hobos?

* * *

Joshua reached down and scratched Bella behind the ears, waking her up again and making her tongue loll out of her mouth in apparent ecstasy. It was a welcome distraction from what was plaguing him. But within seconds, the puppy was back asleep.

And just like that, the problem had returned. Joshua couldn’t help but notice Reggie as she worked beside him. Somehow everything she did caught his attention, even the smallest details of her movements.

The way she pulled her hair back behind her ear when she was bending her head over a stack of papers. The slight frown that would cause vertical creases in between her eyebrows when she was focusing on something specific for too long. The pull of her long-sleeved shirt as it tugged across her front, stretching the fabric tight. It was far too hot to be wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

He noticed, and he hated himself for noticing.

He tried to find other things to think about. Bella was one source, but she kept falling asleep at his feet. Not much help there.

So he’d decided to bury himself in the work. There was plenty to do. Had was communicating with law enforcement in both Iowa and Illinois, setting up a perimeter around the nearest train station in Rock Island, just over the border. Agent Cooper was coordinating with him. Which left Joshua on his own with the object of his distraction.

Problem was, Reggie was the one who had all the information when it came to hobos and their culture. From the moment Joshua had raised the idea that their suspect could be a part of that community, Reggie had proved to be a human encyclopedia of information. And Joshua was forced to go back to her again and again and again.

If only he didn’t like it quite so much.

“So, how far out do we need to make this perimeter?” he asked.

Reggie made the crinkled-brow frown again as she studied the map over Joshua’s shoulder. Her scent washed over him, a mixture of some fruit-scented shampoo and a darker, deeper scent. Incense, maybe? Whatever it was, it was making it difficult for him to concentrate on what she was saying.

“Well, most of these guys know what they’re doing. You can’t ride the rails for long before you figure it out. I’d say a quarter-mile outside of each station and junction in the area, at the very least. Close enough that the trains slow down, but far enough that they aren’t swarmed by security.” Reggie tugged on a lock of her long black hair, preoccupied with the problem, then pulled it behind her ear.

Joshua turned his attention back to the conversation. “Working with police on both sides of the line’s going to be awkward.”

“Had’s on it. He could charm a nun out of her habit. Plus, he seems to like it.”

Fighting an irrational surge of jealousy, Joshua nodded. “He’s a glutton for punishment, that one.”

“Have you found anything?” she asked, looking around Joshua’s makeshift desk.

“Well, most of these guys seem to have a pretty long rap sheet. But a lot of it looks like just hoboing. Getting picked up for train hopping, petty theft, public vagrancy, stuff like that.”

“Yeah, they’ve never really gotten along with the rest of the law-abiding citizenry. They’re like our version of Gypsies.” Reggie’s tone was warm. It seemed evident that she had a soft spot for these itinerant workers.

He paused for a moment, distracted by her voice. This was ridiculous. He had to keep it together. Shaking his head, he pointed to some of the websites he’d pulled up on the laptop Coop had commandeered for him. It had taken him a while to get up to speed with the changes that had happened with the Internet and operating systems since he’d last gotten on a computer. The last one he remembered using was… Windows 2000?

“Part of the problem I’m having is that I can’t even figure out how many of them are out there.”

“Back during the Great Depression, there were more than 700,000. At least according to the people who were paying attention,” she said, pursing her lips. “But it’s dropped down since then. The estimate back in 1986 was somewhere north of 20,000.”

“Big difference,” Joshua muttered. “That’s the kind of tight-knit group that can be almost impossible to crack.”

“Oh, it’s even smaller than that, now,” she added. “Since 9/11, security’s been beefed up on the rails, so there’re only a few around that are still willing to risk jail to hop the trains.” Again, her eyes gleamed. If Joshua had to take a guess, he’d say she wished she was one of them. And something about that kind of free spirit mentality made her even more attractive. It also clashed with her buttoned-down fashion sense.

“So, what are you two conspiring about over there?” It was Agent Cooper, back from working with Had. Joshua, startled, moved away from Reggie, then inwardly cursed himself for being so obvious. Bella popped her head up and gave a quick bark of welcome to Coop, who did her best to ignore it. Although it appeared for just a second that there might have been a slight smile on her lips for a moment.

“We’re working on hobos,” Reggie replied.

“Wow,” Coop said. “That sounds wrong on so many levels.”

“Oh, no,” the young cop rebutted, seeming to miss the innuendo part of what Coop had said. “They don’t mind the term hobo. In fact, they like it.”

“Since when do bums like to be called bums?”

“Totally different group, Agent Cooper,” she explained. “Hobos travel and work. Tramps travel and don’t work. Bums don’t travel or work.” Reggie said, her expression serious. “They don’t really get along, and they don’t like it when you call them something they aren’t.”

“Note taken,” Coop responded with a smile for the part-time police officer. “I won’t call any of the hobos we bring in bums.”

Something about this interaction was rubbing Joshua the wrong way. He looked for a way to step back in, wanting to be a more central part of the conversation. Just because of the case. He understood the case better than anyone else. That’s what it was about. That’s all that it was about.

He seemed to be spending a lot of effort to convince himself of that.

“I’ve had a couple of hits that I wanted you to take a look at,” Joshua said, directing his attention to Reggie.

Agent Cooper stepped up, finding a chair and dragging it over to Joshua’s workspace. “Let me see what you’ve got.”

Grinding his teeth, Joshua fought an irrational urge to tell her he wasn’t talking to her. It made more sense to be sharing this with Coop, even if Reggie was the hobo expert. He didn’t have a leg to stand on and he knew it.

“There’s a smaller subset of the larger population of hobos called the Freight Train Riders of America,” he answered, trying to keep the grudging quality out of his voice. “They account for maybe a tenth of the whole group and seem pretty extreme.”

“You’re not going to find a lot of hobos that want any association with that group,” Reggie muttered, rifling through some of the pages there on Joshua’s desk.

“What do you mean?” Agent Cooper asked. “Seems like a pretty accepting bunch, from what you’ve said.” Bella came up and sniffed at her leg, worrying at the ankle monitor again. Coop moved her aside absently.

“Yeah, until they get burned. The FTRA kind of acted like tramp and hobo royalty there for a while, but there were a whole string of murders that were laid at their feet, and they’ve kind of gone underground.”

“That’s what I was talking about,” Joshua inserted. “These guys are a lot meaner than your average hobo. And there’s one who’s sticking out like a sore thumb.” He pointed at the screen, where a photo and a digital file stared back.

“Olaf Fjerstad,” Agent Cooper read, her face wrinkled up in puzzlement. “A.K.A. King’s Man.”

“All of the hobos have a handle they go by,” Reggie clarified. “Their hobo name. Like here.” She pointed to another window that was open. “Spamhead Fishbottom. Gastroboy. Gil Bates, Inventor of the Hobonet.”

“So where did our guy get the name the King’s Man from?” Coop leaned in closer to the screen, reaching a hand around the front of Joshua to scroll down the man’s file.

Joshua nudged Agent Cooper’s arm aside so he could pull up a different page, doing what he could to keep from shoving her. The woman was making him claustrophobic. “He’s from Norway. Worked as a servant to King Harald V. He was watching some documentary on hobos about twenty years ago, fell in love and hoofed it to the States to join the life.”

“Looks like he’s been a busy boy since then. His sheet’s thick.” Once more Coop reached around Joshua to scroll down. Joshua had to physically restrain himself from biting her hand. What was wrong with him?

“Plus there’s the possible connection with Humpty Dumpty,” he said, to cover his mounting frustration.

“What connection’s that?” Reggie asked.

Agent Cooper spoke over her shoulder. “You know… All the king’s horses and all the king’s men…”

“Couldn’t put Humpty together again,” the part-time cop finished for her, giving Coop a brilliant smile that showed all of her lovely teeth. Joshua found himself grinding his own until Reggie caught him staring.

She gave him a look, and he did what he could to smile back at her. It didn’t appear to have been successful. She looked closer at him, as if to see if there was something wrong. He shook his head.

Agent Cooper turned around, catching part of the exchange and raising an eyebrow. “Are we okay here?”

“Fine,” Joshua snapped.

She looked back and forth between Joshua and Reggie, and seemed about to speak, then abruptly changed directions. “Well, let’s get a BOLO out on him as soon as possible.” The agent glanced at her watch. “And then we’d better call it an evening. Better to start tomorrow a little more fresh.”

“Whatever,” Joshua said before he could stop himself.

Agent Cooper just sighed and walked out, leaving Joshua alone with Reggie. Which was not at all what he wanted. And yet there was a small part of his mind that asked in a whisper… why else would he have treated Coop that way?

“Do you guys not get along?” Reggie asked, as the door closed behind the exiting agent. “’Cause I think you’re both pretty awesome.”

“We just don’t have the same views on service animals,” Joshua muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Grabbing a few of the loose papers on the tabletop, Joshua gathered them together in a pile, hitting them on the surface to get them straight. “Well, she’s right. Probably ought to call it a night.”

Was it his imagination, or did Reggie seem disappointed as she waved and followed Agent Cooper’s path as she left? The lingering scent of the young cop tantalized and taunted him, causing his heart to beat faster and his gut to twist in knots.

It was time to get back to his hotel room. He nudged Bella, clipping her leash onto her collar as she perked up. There was nothing she liked more than a walk.

The weather was cooler tonight, but the trip back to the hotel did nothing to calm his nerves or clear his mind. The lead weight of the guilt Joshua felt both impelled him forward and tripped up his feet as he moved.

Every fear he had regarding this case was coming to pass. People had died on his watch. More souls on his conscience. And now he seemed to be hot for a coworker. Joshua groped for the image of his wife in his mind’s eye and found that he couldn’t find it. The ache increased, a burning fire that begged to be quenched.

As he entered his hotel room, he released the clasp on Bella’s leash and moved out of habit toward the minibar, checking to see if the alcohol had been restocked. It couldn’t have been, right? The universe wouldn’t be that cruel to him.

It had.

The drink beckoned, it’s oblivion a salve that would wipe away shame and fear. His hands started to shake, and beads of sweat broke out on his brow. It would be so easy to take that step. He’d done it a thousand times before. Gone down that negative spiral pathway, and it wasn’t like he was all that effectual as it was. He reached toward the blackness in front of him.

And then he heard a scratching. It was Bella at the door. She needed to go out.

The dog had just walked a half-mile and somehow hadn’t done her business. And he hadn’t noticed?

Okay. Okay.

He grabbed a grocery sack from his last snack run and scooped out all the bottles, throwing them into the bag and tying off the top. He’d take it by the front desk, drop it off, and have a conversation with housekeeping.

For now, Bella needed some attention.

* * *

Sariah woke from half-formed dreams that seemed to involve Joshua and Reggie and a whole heaping helping of tension. Whatever had been going on last night had followed her into her sleep.

Talking with him about it yesterday had seemed like a bad idea, so she’d put it off until this morning. The problem with putting things off is that eventually the time comes to take the plunge.

She had no desire to talk to Joshua right now, but the kind of interaction had been happening lately had to go. The former agent was becoming more erratic by the day, and Sariah needed to find out why.

As she neared his room, the door opened, and out came Bella, straining against her leash. She was followed by Joshua, who looked like he had been run over by a bus and then pounded with a sledgehammer. He squinted against the light in the hall as he paused in the doorway.

His body kept the door from closing, so Sariah was able to see into the room. There were no empties that she could see in the room, but the mini fridge was hanging open. It had been cleaned out of alcohol. That, plus Joshua’s demeanor spoke of another rough night of binge drinking. And just when it seemed that things were getting better.

“You okay?” she called out.

Joshua squeezed his eyes shut, looking like he was trying to shut out her voice as much as her image. He shook his head.

“I’ve been better.”

“Yeah. Hangovers’ll do that to you.”

Joshua’s head jerked up. “What?”

Sariah snorted. “You’re clearly hung over.”

For a second, it looked like Joshua was going to fight her on that, but then he just responded with his typical, “Whatever.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what that was all about, but she didn’t care all that much. There was something else on her mind right now.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about—”

“Yesterday. I know,” Joshua gave her a wry half-smile, half-grimace. “I was out of line.”

Wow. This conversation was not going how Sariah had imagined it. She was supposed to be asking him something, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of it. His apology was rattling her equilibrium.

“Ah, yes. Just…” She looked at him, then down at the dog. Bella looked up at her with her tongue out. “I don’t know. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Joshua started to speak, whether to argue the point or to concede, Sariah couldn’t tell. At that moment, a text came in. She pulled out her cell and glanced at the screen. It was from Had.

News. Get here fast.

Had knew enough not to get her hopes up for nothing. This conversation with Joshua would have to wait.

CHAPTER 17

Darting around the workspace, Had put the final touches on the set up. Reggie had come in and helped him out, otherwise he never would have been able to finish it in time. Between the two of them, they’d basically made the impossible possible.

A Skyped interrogation.

As Joshua and Coop entered the room, Bella in tow, they brought in some pretty strange energy with them. Joshua looked like Had did after he’d been talking to Mama when she was in a pissy mood. And Agent Cooper? She looked… well, Had wasn’t sure how she looked. If it were anyone else, Had would say she appeared confused. But this was Coop. She was never confused. Wrong? Sometimes. Confused? Never.

Pushing his observations aside, Had moved toward the two. “Okay. Here’s the deal. The King’s Man was picked up just outside of Spokane early this morning.”

“So fast?” Coop asked. “How the hell did they find him?”

“Apparently he was speaking to a rotary club about hobo culture. They’d put him up in a hotel for the week, and one of the members was a cop. Heard about the BOLO and went and picked the guy up.”

“Okay,” Joshua replied. “So explain to me why we aren’t headed to the nearest airport.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Had gushed, thrilled to show them what he’d accomplished. “I knew that we’re under the wire. We don’t know how long this new kidnapping victim might have before Humpty decides to cut her into pieces. So…” He pointed at the equipment he and Reggie had put together.

“So you decided to build a television studio?” Joshua asked, looking around the space. He reached out to touch a camera that had been set up.

“Don’t… Don’t touch that,” Had begged him. “I’ve been working on this since five this morning.”

“Whatever,” Joshua growled. He rubbed a hand across his face, pulling the skin taut and then releasing it. “What is it for?”

“We’re going to do a video conference,” Reggie blurted, then blushed. “Sorry, Had. I was just so excited.”

As Joshua turned to face her, Had saw the former agent’s expression change. All of the sudden, he seemed taller, more energetic… younger. Weird.

“A video conference?” Joshua asked, his tone skeptical. “That feels like it won’t be all that effective.”

“No, no. It’s a great idea,” Coop argued. “It means we can do this now instead of waiting hours or even a full day to get into the box with this guy.”

“But we’re not there in person. How can we get in his head without being able to be in the same room with him?”

“Please,” she scoffed. “Haven’t you ever been intimidated by a good performance from an actor in a film? Same difference.” Coop raised an eyebrow. “Or don’t you think you can handle it?”

“Let’s just get on with it,” he growled back.

Had was one for two as far as his approval rate was concerned, but he’d take it. Besides, Joshua looked like he’d be grumpy about pretty much anything right now. Had was learning how to take what came out of the former agent’s mouth with a cellar’s worth of salt.

Placing Joshua and Agent Cooper in their chairs, Had focused the camera on them, then checked the internet connection on both ends. It should be more than enough to make for a smooth video conference. He took Bella’s leash from Joshua and led the puppy back to where he would be operating the camera.

As the suspect appeared on the screen, Had was struck by how regal he was. He was scruffy, no doubt, with a huge shaggy beard and long dark hair. But his cheekbones looked like they had been etched in glass they were so sharp, and his blue eyes glittered like arcs of electricity made solid.

And there appeared to be no fear there, whatsoever.

“I’m Agent Cooper, and this is Joshua Wright.” Agent Cooper started. “So, Mr. Fjerstad—”

“I am King’s Man,” the suspect stated in a flat tone. His accent was quite good, with only tiny tells to let the listener know they were talking to someone who wasn’t born in the States. But even with the slight foreign tilt to his speech, he seemed almost more British than Nordic.

“That’s right,” Joshua said in a pleasant tone. “You were a servant to a king. Is that what I’ve heard?”

“That is correct,” King’s Man replied. “But that was a long time ago. I am not a servant to anyone now.”

“I can see that.”

Agent Cooper cleared her throat and held up several photos in front of the camera lens. Had zoomed in on each individual picture as she shuffled through them. He watched like a hawk, ready to sharpen the focus or adjust the framing to make the most impact.

“King’s Man, do you recognize any of these individuals?”

“No,” he said, leaning in toward what must have been the computer screen on his end of the connection. “Should I have?”

“Their bodies were found scattered all across the United States.”

“That is terrible.”

“Oh come on,” Joshua mocked. “It’s not all that bad. Weren’t there like three hundred hobos killed by your group back in the late 90s?”

“To which group are you referring?” the man replied, an innocent look on his face.

“Very nice. Great grammar for a bum.”

King’s Man clenched his jaw, his muscle working in stark relief against the skin of his cheek. “I am not, have never been, nor will ever be a bum. I am a hobo.”

“Right. A hobo who’s part of the most violent hobo gang that’s ever existed.”

“I’m afraid I still do not know of what you are speaking.”

“Sure you do,” Joshua murmured. Had could see that he was struggling a bit. Like he wanted to stand up and pace but couldn’t. Instead, the former agent wiped his hands on his pant legs. “You were wearing a black bandana. Do you know how unusual that is for hobos to do since what’s-his-bucket was convicted?”

“Robert Silveria,” Coop added. “He’s really the one that helped put the FTRA on the map.”

“The FTRA?” King’s Man wrinkled his nose. “I am not a part of this group.”

“Please.” Joshua made a raspberry noise with his lips. “You were giving lectures on it for the Rotary Club up in Spokane. You have a blog.”

The suspect shrugged his shoulders, the gesture strangely delicate. European. This guy might be a hobo, but Had could see very little that was American about him, even after twenty years.

“Fine. So I am part of them. But they are not the villains everyone thinks them to be.”

“Here’s the other thing that makes it tough to buy your story, Olaf. The body parts showed up all along the train lines. A bunch of them right in your home turf there in Washington.”

Had watched as Joshua got in closer to the lens. The former agent may have had concerns about the video conferencing, but he had taken to it like a pro. Although, looking at him more closely, Had could see that he was pale and sweating, his eyes darting back and forth.

“I cannot control what you have or have not been finding,” King’s Man responded, unruffled. “All I can say is that I had nothing to do with it.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

“Mr. Fjerstad… excuse me… King’s Man. Do you know of any hobos who might be capable of doing something like this?” Agent Cooper interjected, sitting forward in her seat, also adjusting for the camera like she had been born to it. Had was thrilled with how well the video thing was working.

“No, I cannot imagine—”

Joshua cut him off. “And you’re telling me your name is just a coincidence?”

This time, the confused expression on King’s Man’s face seemed genuine. “What does my name have to do with anything?”

“All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,” Joshua intoned. “Tell me that has nothing to do with this.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“No, you don’t, do you? Follow, that is. You’re a leader. What did you call yourself?” Joshua looked down at a printed piece of paper in his hand. “King’s Man, the King chosen from amongst the kings of the hobos. There’s an awful lot of kings in that sentence.” He frowned, and it appeared to Had that the frown went beyond a simple interrogation tactic. The former agent’s focus seemed to flit about the room, instead of the laser focus Had was used to seeing from him.

“Where did you—?”

“Your blog, man. That might have been a mistake. Not sure what you were thinking on that one.” Joshua wiped at his forehead with his sleeve. He was sweating profusely, and seemed to be getting more and more pale by the second.

“Still, I don’t see how—” the suspect started.

“Humpty Dumpty. You know. The serial killer and the nursery rhyme? All the king’s horses and all the king’s men?”

“All of my children’s rhymes were in Norwegian. It was not Humpty Dumpty for me. It was Lille Trille. And it doesn’t translate into ‘king’s men’ in my language.”

“That may be true. I’ll have to check up on it. But you have to admit, it’s one hell of a coincidence.”

There was a sound from Reggie’s direction. It was the grinding of the Tardis from Dr. Who. Had glanced over at her as she pulled out her cell phone and showed him that she had just received a text.

“We just got the results back from the bomb fragments taken from the site where you found the torso,” she whispered, trying not to interfere with the interrogation taking place. “You need to see this.” She handed the phone to Had.

He scanned the contents of the text, and immediately surged to his feet, surprising both Agent Cooper and Joshua. Giving them a signal to wrap things up with King’s Man, Had gestured to the phone.

Joshua was clearly confused, his eyes unsteady, but Coop seemed to get it. “Mr. Fjer… ah, King’s Man. We’re going to need to pick this back up again later. But please be thinking of any way that you can help us out here. The evidence is pointing at you, and what it’s saying isn’t pretty.”

Had went to cut the connection as Joshua came to his feet, swaying. The former agent started to speak, and then abruptly collapsed, taking out the camera as he fell.

“Joshua!” Agent Cooper was by his side in a heartbeat. Bella came in just milliseconds behind, licking the face of her friend and whining her concern.

Joshua was twitching in what almost looked like convulsions. His skin was grey and clammy, but sweat continued to bead his brow.

“Call an ambulance,” Coop barked at Had.

He pulled out his phone to call, but Joshua groaned and stirred from his position on the ground. His arms waved in an effort to get Had’s attention. As if Had was going to be paying attention to anything else right at this moment.

“Don’t call. Don’t call an ambulance.” Joshua’s voice was strained but strong, and Had hesitated before hitting the “call” button. “I’m fine.”

“You are anything but fine. Don’t be such an ass,” Coop snapped at him, trying to keep Bella out of his face.

“I’m not being an ass,” he responded. “Well, not any more than normal. This is just… well, I’ve had this happen before.”

“Oh, really? When?”

“It was…” Joshua started, then looked up at Reggie. He sighed, then finished his sentence in a resigned tone. “It was when I didn’t have enough to drink. I’m just detoxing, that’s all.”

Coop sat back on her heels, staring at him. She then shook her head. “Don’t lie to me, Joshua. I saw your mini fridge this morning. You’d drunk everything in there.”

Joshua pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Believe what you want, but don’t call an ambulance. I said I was fine. I’m fine.”

Had made eye contact with Agent Cooper, his finger hovering over the button. She nodded, and he slipped the phone back into his pocket. Coop slowly stood, looking down at Joshua, before seeming to make a decision and turning back to Had.

“Now,” she said, pinning him with her gaze. “What was so important that you had to interrupt our interrogation?”

* * *

Sariah was torn. Joshua was still on the ground, slowly making his way to a sitting position. Reggie was switching her attention from Sariah to Joshua to Had and then would start the cycle all over again.

This interrogation hadn’t been her idea in the first place. She still felt that Curtis had been their guy. But once they had gotten into the swing of the questioning, there were a lot of things that started to make sense if King’s Man was their guy. There was a compelling argument here.

So to have the process stopped in the middle left her feeling jumpy and incomplete. But the excitement mixed with nerves she saw in Had’s eyes seemed like it could be promising.

“Go ahead,” she prodded. “Tell me what you’ve got.”

“Well, we got the report back on the bomb fragments,” Had said. “It was a fertilizer bomb.”

“So not incredibly sophisticated. That fits the profile pretty well. But why was that enough to cut us off back there?”

“Well, it’s the fact that the fertilizer matched a specific lot,” Reggie stepped in.

Sariah still wasn’t seeing where this was headed. “Great. One more lead for us to track down. We can never have too many, I guess.”

“No, no, here’s the thing,” Had interjected. “The lot was one that Curtis Howse was carrying just three days ago.”

Ah. Now it was starting to make sense. “So Curtis was carrying the main ingredient for a bomb that took out four cops?”

“Yes,” Had answered. “And the other significant component of a fertilizer bomb…”

“Is diesel fuel,” she finished for him.

“And not just any diesel fuel. We tested what was still in his truck. Initial results show it came from the same gas station as the stuff in the explosive. We should be able to tell within a day or so whether or not what was in the bomb matches what came from his gas tank.”

“This is great. We still have close tabs on Howse, right?”

“Yeah,” Had affirmed. “He was planning on staying for the convention anyway, but we’ve kept eyes on him the entire time. I can get him here within the hour.”

“Do it,” she said. Had turned to head out the door, but Sariah stopped him with her voice. “Oh, and Had?”

“Yes?”

“Good call. We needed to jump on this one right away.”

She had been right. The facts all pointed to Howse and now that son of a bitch was going down for it. Joshua’s doubts and criticisms had gotten to her, made her second guess herself. But she was right.

It was all she could do to keep from making eye contact with Joshua right now. The guy was a mess, whether from a serious binge or, as he said, from abstinence. Honestly, she wasn’t all that sure that she cared. It was just that the idea of Joshua sober seemed so unlikely. But one way or the other, saying “I told you so” would just be salt in a ragged, infected wound right now.

And yet somehow, it’s all she wanted to do. Which was just great. Sariah was having a hard time convincing herself that she was a decent person right about now.

Time to put away Humpty. That would at least help balance the scales.

* * *

Joshua still felt pretty woozy as Had and Reggie led Curtis Howse and his lawyer in and made them sit down in the slapped-together questioning room. Bella had stayed right by his side the entire time he was on the floor, and the little pup seemed much more serious than was her usual wont. He could barely twitch without bumping into her furry little form.

Curtis looked much less confident than he had the previous time he’d been here. Something about continual suspicion seemed to get to even the most hardened of criminals. And this one had seen this end of the other side of the law more than a few times in his life. Curtis’ eyes kept flicking to his lawyer, who looked to be a public defender well into his 50s, with graying hair and a pot-belly.

Agent Cooper wasted no time. As soon as Curtis’ butt touched the chair, she started in with the questions, not giving him much of a chance to get his bearings. Not a bad interrogation technique, he had to admit.

“When’s the last time you carried fertilizer?”

Joshua could see that the question rattled the trucker. He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, classic indicators of stress… and possible guilt. Maybe Coop was right about this guy after all. It didn’t fit, but Joshua was hard pressed to come up with alternate explanations at this point. After a nod from his lawyer, Curtis answered, his voice quavering a bit.

“I dropped some off in Cedar Rapids a few days ago.”

“Which is exactly where my companions and I were almost blown up just the day before yesterday.”

The lawyer sat up straighter. He might be a total schlub, but even he could see that this wasn’t going at all the way he might want it to.

“What?” Howse had gone still, like a mouse trying to hide from an owl.

His defender leaned in close. “You don’t have to say a word.”

Joshua watched as the suspect licked lips that seemed to have gone bone dry. This whole thing was off. Curtis seemed guilty enough, but there was just something… He refocused as Agent Cooper began speaking again, her tone soothing.

“Oh, I think you understand exactly what I said. But just in case, here it is spelled out. You carried one of the ingredients for the bomb that killed four cops to the exact location where it was used.”

“But I—”

She held up a hand to forestall his next statement. “I’m trying to help you here. It’s pretty obvious this was you. The other ingredient of the bomb is what fuels your truck. Down to the gas station you purchased it in.”

Curtis held up his hands, almost as if he were protecting himself from her. Maybe he was. His lawyer leaned in close to his client.

“I advise you not to say anything more.”

“But I had nothing to do with any of that,” the trucker answered, speaking both to his defender and his attacker.

“You had nothing to do with a bomb that happened where you were, with ingredients you were carrying, at the same moment you were right there?” Coop shook her head in disbelief. “That’s what you’re telling me?”

“Agent Cooper, you’ve already asked that question,” the lawyer said, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button. “And don’t say anything else,” he murmured, speaking this time to his client.

Curtis apparently wasn’t listening. “I know you must think—”

“Here’s what I think. I think you’re in a lot of trouble. I think you need our help.” Agent Cooper’s tone was soft, reasonable, almost kind. Joshua could see himself wanting to trust that matter-of-fact tone himself. “You’re going to lose everything that’s important to you if you don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Curtis asked.

“Agent Cooper, that feels like a threat,” challenged the lawyer, standing up this time. “I won’t allow you to use intimidation tactics against my client.”

“My apologies if it came across that way, Mr. Torrance,” she responded. “I’m just trying to help him to understand what’s going to happen. I don’t want things to be worse for your client than they have to be.”

“Fine.” The attorney sat back, seeming a bit mollified, but his gaze was locked on her. Joshua couldn’t blame the guy. She was skewering his client.

“We have enough on you at this point to get any kind of warrant we want,” she continued to Curtis, as if there had been no interruption of their direct communication. “Anything hidden in your family is going to come out. It’ll be a circus. They won’t have a day’s peace for the next ten years. The police will swarm over your house and never give you a second to be alone and unworried.”

The lawyer grunted at that. “That’s definitely sounding like a threat to me. You need to knock it off right now or we’re out of here.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Coop responded. “I have enough to charge him.”

“No, you don’t,” he fired back. “Or at least you won’t if you’re at all intelligent. It’s circumstantial. It’d get tossed. And you know it.”

It seemed this ineffectual lawyer wasn’t so ineffectual after all. But Agent Cooper wasn’t done yet.

“Whether or not I keep him, he’s mine. And he knows it. Your client understands just how bad it’s going to be for him, and for his family, if he doesn’t cooperate.

Joshua reached up a hand to restrain Coop, but she shook it off.

“I just have a few more things to say to your client, and then we’re done,” Agent Cooper said. Her tone was mild, but there was an intensity to her that was almost frightening. “I want you to listen and listen close. You understand?”

Curtis Howse nodded. It seemed his voice had left him for the moment.

Coop continued, her tone level, even as her cold words bit deeper than frostbite in the Arctic. “Confess, and things will be better for your family.”

She slapped down a photo of the kidnapping victim. Her name was Taylor Jensen, a young co-ed back in her freshman year of college. The picture practically radiated youth and innocence.

“Who is that?”

“That’s the girl you just abducted. The one who’s trussed up in some dark corner or basement, scared out of her gourd, waiting for you to cut her into tiny little pieces.”

“This is ridiculous!” the lawyer yelped. “If you don’t tone it down, I’m going to call and have a conversation with your superior.”

Joshua knew that the lawyer was right. She was riding the edge of what was okay, and was about to teeter off into the abyss. Joshua knew what that dark pit looked like from painful experience.

“Are you going to help me, or not?” she asked, pointing a finger at the picture on the table in front of the suspect. “You help me, I help you.”

“I can’t help you because I don’t know anything. Besides, I was here. How could I kidnap anyone?” Curtis responded, his tone getting more desperate the further the conversation went.

“You could have been working with an accomplice,” she replied, her tone calm. “Please, Curtis. I don’t want to ruin your family’s life. Think of them. They’re going to go through every inch of your life. You don’t know what scrutiny is until they’ve done it to you. And they will find what you’re hiding, and your family will suffer for it.”

Curtis’ shoulders slumped in defeat, and the blood drained from his face. Joshua had seen that reaction before. Howse was done. Coop had taken her typical directness to a new level. She’d gone not just for the jugular, but for the main artery, and the suspect was emotionally bleeding out. Beaten.

Coop turned to the lawyer. “We’re not going to charge him, but we’re keeping him in custody.” It was a textbook move. Make sure your prime suspect was right where you could keep track of him.

So why was Joshua so sure that an enormous mistake had just been made?

CHAPTER 18

It was a rush, Sariah had to admit.

She’d gone in determined to get what she needed, and while she didn’t have a confession, she had the next best thing. Her suspect was beaten.

The moment it had happened, Sariah knew exactly what it was. And her blood had sung with the Siren song of the victor of coming out of a battle to the death, alive and unscratched.

But apparently, the scratching came later.

Joshua planted himself right in front of her. His face was pulled into a frown, his stance was powerful, but the effect was sullied by Bella, who was prancing around at his feet, straining at her leash.

“What is it, Joshua?”

“Can we talk about what just happened?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, hearing the criticism in his tone.

“I still think this whole thing is off.”

“How can you say that? Everything about him screams I’m the one. He might as well have a sign.”

Joshua frowned. “That’s just what I’m talking about. Humpty is a planner. A schemer. This guy has made more mistakes… well, than Had would if he were out killing people.” He pointed to the young cop, who shrugged his shoulders in agreement.

Sariah gawked at him. “But you saw the way he was acting in there. Nervous, on edge… guilty.”

“Yes. Guilty about something. But what if it’s not about what we think it is?” Joshua said. “And you pushed him too hard. It was way too much, there at the end.”

“You… of all people, you are the last one that has the right to say that to me.”

Joshua nodded. “I know. I’m a total hypocrite. But here’s the thing.” He leaned in, his face close to hers. “Humpty Dumpty slaughtered my family. I’m physically and psychologically a pathetic mess. I’m also an alcoholic. What’s your excuse?”

Sariah just sat there, her mouth ajar. It was so patently unfair that she wasn’t even sure where to begin. So rather than dispute his assertions, she went on the offensive.

“An alcoholic. When you say it, it sounds almost enlightened somehow. Like you understand how messed up you are. But it really just says you’re a coward.”

Had stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm. “Coop, hey,” he coaxed.

But Sariah was not ready to be talked down. Not just yet.

“No, I’m going to say it. You point to your family getting killed as the source of all your problems. And I get it. It was bad. More than I can imagine.”

“C’mon. Don’t go there. This isn’t going to end well,” Had murmured in her ear. He was right. She knew he was right. But at this particular moment, she just didn’t care any longer.

“But you’ve used that excuse to wimp out on your life without having to pay your bill. But here’s a little bit of information for you… the bill always comes due.

“You get that out of a fortune cookie?” Joshua asked, giving her a tight smile. Bella was pressed up against his leg, her tail tucked under her, whimpering softly.

“That’s right. Make a joke out of it. That’s your standard response. You’re a sloppy mess. You destroy everything positive you can find around you. You’re like a pig wallowing in its own filth.”

Joshua just stared at her. “You’re right,” he said. “But so what? I’m right, too. This is too open-and-closed and you know it. Stop looking for the easy conviction.”

“You think this is an easy conviction?”

“For a serial killer like Humpty? You bet your ass.” He bent down and scooped up Bella, who was whimpering from all the tension in the room. Sariah felt a stab of guilt surge through her.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see,” she finally managed.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Joshua sat down at his worktable, pretending to go through some files that were lying there. It appeared he was done with the argument.

Truth be told, so was she. Joshua had said some things that were sticking in her craw. The more she thought about it, the more she could see that perhaps it was too much of a textbook case. But wasn’t that the reason the textbooks had them? She was doing everything right. Exactly the way she was supposed to.

Her ankle itched, and Sariah realized it was time to move the monitor to her other leg. She pulled it off and set it on the table in front of her, scratching at where the device had been.

And then Joshua did something strange. He walked over, bent down and scooped up the monitor. Before she could snatch it away or do anything other than just gawk at him, he’d returned to his workspace, tossing the device up in the air and then catching it.

He then snapped it onto his own leg.

She waited for the thing to go berserk, wailing at them all to let them know the wearer was intoxicated. It more than likely wouldn’t be a pleasant sound.

Nothing.

It was probably just calibrating. Sariah waited longer.

Still nothing.

Joshua winked at her and pushed himself up to standing, pulling his pant leg down over the bracelet. He pulled on the leash, encouraging Bella to follow as he moved toward the exit.

Damn if that former agent didn’t know how to make an exit when it suited him.

* * *

It hadn’t been the best afternoon so far. Had’s two best friends had been at each other’s throats, they hadn’t gotten a confession out of the trucker, and so far they hadn’t found any additional evidence that proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was Humpty. Plenty of circumstantial stuff, but nothing concrete.

Plus, he hadn’t had a chance to sample even one funnel cake this entire time. And the convention was ending today. All the stalls clearing out. All the truckers, too.

Well, all but Curtis Howse.

Had was spending his time divided between two tasks, each one assigned by someone different. Agent Cooper had stormed off after her fight with Joshua, but not before she’d tasked him with finding the smoking gun. Problem was, there didn’t seem to be one. Anywhere.

After about a half hour, Joshua called him. Apparently, the former agent wasn’t so sure that Curtis was their guy, and he wanted Had to focus on the hobo, or even look for more leads in a different direction.

Basically, in a nutshell, Had was spending his time being schizophrenic. Whoever said that multitasking was an efficient way to go was a complete moron.

Thing was, he could see it from both sides. They had two really good suspects they were working with, either one of whom could be their guy. But there was nothing to say that it couldn’t be someone else entirely.

Finding any information on the hobo was next to impossible. The guy had no bank accounts, no residence, almost no footprint at all. About the only resource Had could find was the stupid blog, and that didn’t give him much in the way of a time line. Apparently, marking his entries with a date was verboten for a guy like King’s Man.

Going through the other options just felt forced, though. Had sifted through flight attendants, pilots, anyone that would have unlimited flight options, and nothing screamed at him. There were a couple of so-so options, but he would put them at a two on a one to ten scale. The ones they already had were like a nine and a nine-and-a-half. It made him want to tear his hair out.

So when Preston came by, asking him if he wanted to take a break, he almost wept with relief.

“You want to go get a funnel cake?” Had asked.

“Totally. You like read my mind or something. I’ve got the munchies something fierce.” Preston seemed to think about what he had just said, then spoke again. “I mean. I’m totally hungry.”

“I told you, Preston. I’m not going to bust you for pot. We’re working homicides here. Apples and oranges.”

“Whatever, bra. They’re both still fruit.”

That struck Had as strangely profound, but then he caught a whiff of something fried and his attention was diverted. “Hey, speaking of fruit… do you like cherry or strawberry topping on yours?” Had could almost taste the fried confection. It was one of his all-time favorite things to eat, from the first time he’d tasted one at the Michigan state fair back before his dad died.

“Nothing but powdered sugar for me. I’m a purist,” Preston said, his look pious.

As they weaved their way through the crowds outside Iowa 80, Had thought back over their conversation. There was something there that was tugging at his consciousness. It was like an itch that he couldn’t scratch. Some connection he wasn’t making.

“Hey, Preston,” Had asked his friend. “What were you thinking when I first told you I was a cop?”

“Aw, dude. I totally freaked out. Like wiggin’, you know?”

“Because of the pot, right?” he asked, looking to confirm a budding idea.

“Well, yeah. What else?” Preston sniffed, wiping a hand across his nose. “Why?”

“Just a thought I had.” Had was about to continue, when he saw Coop crossing the open space between the buildings and the convention fairway. Her face was tight and her stride was violent.

“Isn’t that your boss?” Preston asked, pointing her out.

“Yep.”

“She looks pissed.”

“Yep.”

He looked from one side of the field to the other, possibly searching for a place to hide. “I think I’m gonna bail. Sorry, dude.”

“Yep.” Had didn’t blame him. Not one bit.

As Agent Cooper approached, she called out to him. “What are you doing out here? Are you looking for someone?”

For a brief moment, Had considered lying, but not only was that not really him, he sucked at it. There was zero chance he could lie to this woman and get away with it.

“No. I was just taking a quick break. I needed something to eat.”

Had wasn’t sure how it was possible, but Coop’s face tightened down even further. A vein he had never noticed was standing out against the skin just above her temple, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. It was mesmerizing, and a little terrifying.

“You understand that we’ve got a kidnapped girl out there?”

“Yes, but I—”

“I would expect this kind of behavior out of Joshua, but from you? I’m beyond disappointed.”

Wow. Had would never have thought it possible, but Agent Cooper was almost channeling his mama. Now all she had to do was try to set him up with some girl. He tried again.

“I totally agree, I just—”

“We have to push past our discomfort. That woman’s life is hanging in the balance, and you’re out here chatting with the locals and grabbing a turkey leg.”

“Oh, I wasn’t getting a turkey leg. I just wanted a—”

“Had!” she barked. “I don’t want to hear it. I just want you to track down the information I asked for on Curtis Howse.”

This was not like the Agent Cooper that Had knew. Something was wrong. Really wrong. He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder.

“Coop, is everything okay?”

And just like that, she burst into tears.

Had could see that the strain of this case was getting to her. Heck, it was getting to him, too, and stress usually rolled off his back like water from a duck. Or whatever that phrase was. He patted her shoulder, wanting to give her a hug, but knowing it would embarrass her even more.

“I’m sorry, Had, I—”

“Hey,” he stopped her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab a quick bite, then get back to it, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“And, Coop?”

“Uh huh?”

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her, and gave her shoulder one last pat.

She nodded and turned away, but not before Had saw new tears forming in her eyes. The poor woman was under a lot of pressure.

And he was going to do what he could to take some of it off.

* * *

“Dammit,” Joshua swore, staring at the screen in front of him. Bella perked up, barking at him and nipping at his fingers that were dangling down at his side. As she tried to latch onto his hand, he swatted playfully at her.

He’d been trying to track down some additional information on King’s Man’s known associates, when an email had come in. It was Had’s, but he’d left it open, knowing that information could come in that all of them would want to see.

It was good news. Sort of.

“What’s up?” Agent Cooper asked, crossing to his side of the workspace.

“The kidnapped girl? She wasn’t kidnapped.”

“What?”

“I know,” Joshua sighed. “Seems that she had just taken off to meet some of her friends in Vegas for a week and hadn’t said anything to anyone.”

“Well, that’s…” Coop’s voice trailed off.

“Good and bad. I know.”

“It does point back to Curtis Howse,” she said, her tone non-confrontational.

Joshua stretched, feeling his back crack in several places. “How do you figure?”

“Well, one of the things that seemed to exonerate him was that the girl was kidnapped while we had him in custody.”

They’d rehashed at least three different versions of this fight since Curtis had left the box. Guess they were due for their fourth.

“That was never my main concern.”

“Fine. Then explain to me what your main concern is.”

Joshua threw up his hands. “I have. Several times. But you don’t seem to want to hear it. Anything goes against your theory and you’re ready to chuck it out the window.”

“That is not true. The only reason I have for pushing forward with Howse is that the facts all point to him. I’m doing everything right here. You’re just going off of hunches and guesswork.”

“I’m not…” Joshua started, then stopped himself. “We’re going in circles here. Let’s just acknowledge that the heat is off as far as the girl goes, but that we’re back to square one in terms of having something physical to connect this to.”

“Works for me,” Coop muttered. She stood there for a second, then groaned. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?”

“Where’s Had? I need to apologize to him. Again.”

“I think he went in to the department building. Wanted to work out a few ideas with Reggie or something.”

She sighed. “I’ll just talk to him when he gets back.”

Joshua tuned her out. He was busy trying to find a needle in a proverbial haystack, and his allergies were killing him.

* * *

There was low, and there was lower than low. Had wasn’t even sure he could see where that was from here.

This was the job of his dreams, a thrill for him on every level, and he had almost screwed it up. He’d never seen Agent Cooper get that mad, at least not at him. And usually when she was mad at Joshua, she was at least trying to hide it.

There had been nothing secret about her feelings when she’d spoken to him. And sure, they’d worked it out, sort of. But it still had gotten under his skin.

Rather than go back to the workspace where Joshua and Coop were busy trying to pretend that the other one didn’t exist, and where the source of his recent humiliation was, Had made the decision to go into Walcott to work at the station.

It hadn’t helped any.

Reggie had been called away on some IT project within an hour of his arrival. So he was just there in a foreign environment, getting in people’s way, trying to find a space where he could hunker down and work. After another hour of that, the workspace back at Iowa 80 was looking better and better.

So, he’d hoofed it back, knowing that he was probably going to be in for another earful. It was fine. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it.

But when he pulled into the parking lot, Preston was there waiting for him. He was holding a greasy paper plate, and looked pleased with himself.

“There you are, dude. I knew you’d be back eventually. The funnel cakes always bring ‘em back.” He grinned at Had, holding out the plate toward him. On its surface was a gorgeous confection liberally sprinkled with powdered sugar.

Had grabbed the plate, grateful for both the pastry and the thought behind it. “Thanks, man.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Preston pulled a tiny plastic condiment cup out of his pocket. It was filled with strawberry topping. “Didn’t know which one you’d like, but it’s strawberries, you know? Who doesn’t like strawberries?”

“You’re awesome, Preston.” Had took a huge bite, almost inhaling a pile of sugar in the process. “Not as filling as pasties, but wow, that’s good.”

“Pasties?” Preston asked

Had frowned. “Yeah. Pasties. How could you live in Michigan and not know what a pasty is? You know, the meat filled little pies?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, my mom got me one of those once when I was kid. Didn’t like it.”

Had nearly spit out his bite of funnel cake. How could anyone that had sampled pasties not love them? Just one more example of how Detroit wasn’t really part of Michigan. Preston couldn’t help it.

“So, what happened with your boss,” Preston asked. “She skin you alive or what?”

“Skinning alive would have been a cake walk next to what she did to me.”

“Kinky.”

Had sighed. “I wish.”

Preston chuckled. “Don’t worry, dude. She’ll get over it. Who could stay mad at you?” He looked over Had’s shoulder. “Whoa. It’s that hot cop. Man, you pigs sure like to smell each other’s bacon, don’t you?”

Had glanced back and saw Reggie walking toward them. Waving at her, he offered her a bite of his funnel cake, which she took. She ended up with powdered sugar all over her nose. It was cute, and once more Had found himself regretting her lack of Latin dancing ability.

“You find anything new?” she asked.

“No, not much,” Had admitted. “But there was something that I had totally forgotten about until I ran into Preston here a second ago.”

“Hold on. We’re not going to talk about my pot again, are we?”

“Will you relax?” Had urged his friend. “No, I was thinking about how you said you were scared when I talked to you that first time.”

“Right.”

“Maybe that’s what’s happening with the trucker.”

Reggie’s forehead wrinkled up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, when Agent Cooper started talking about going through his life, it’s like he crumpled. And we were thinking that it must be because he’s guilty.”

“It does sort of seem that way, bra,” Preston said.

“Yeah, but what if it’s about something completely different? Something that has nothing to do with the murders?”

“That’s a real possibility,” Reggie mused. “But what does it mean?”

Just at that moment, Had’s phone rang. Psycho. Had answered and said, “Mama? I’m right in the middle of something right now.”

“Oh, you’re always in the middle of somethin’,” she groused. “And what’s taking you so long out there? Haven’t you caught the guy already?”

“Mama, it takes time to catch a serial killer.”

“Come on. They do it on that CSI show in like an hour.”

“That’s it, Mama. I gotta go.”

Had hung up, trying to regain his train of thought. Train. That was it.

“We’ve been so busy looking at the train routes and the trucking manifests, trying to see if there was that specific lot of fertilizer that was used in the bombing.”

“Right,” Reggie encouraged him.

“But I haven’t checked with the warehouse where the shipment was dropped off. Someone could have just come in and bought it.” Now that Had was thinking about it, the idea was so obvious, he was stunned no one had thought of it. And that he had been the first.

“That’s kind of brilliant, Had,” Reggie gushed. “I’ll run and tell Joshua and Agent Cooper.”

“You do that,” he said, “I’m headed out to the warehouse.”

Just like that, Had’s day turned around. It may not end up yielding any results, but at least he wasn’t feeling useless any longer.

And he’d gotten the idea by chatting with his friends.

CHAPTER 19

The last thing in the world that Sariah wanted to do was to let her prime suspect go. But that’s exactly what his public defendant was asking for. The guy had come across as such a doofus, and as much as it hurt to admit it, she hadn’t given him much credit.

Turned out, he might know what he was doing.

“If you don’t have enough to charge my client, it makes no sense to keep him in custody,” he said for the third time. This man had the broken record thing down to a science. Sariah was almost ready to give in just out of a desire to get him to shut up.

“You’ve seen the evidence we have against him. And he’s a trucker. He’s like the definition of a flight risk.”

“So let him go and keep an eye on him.”

Sariah sighed. “I don’t want to waste the manpower on keeping tabs on the person who more than likely did this.”

Once again the lawyer surprised her. “If you’re so positive he’s the guy, what do you need the manpower for?”

Well, there was that. But she wasn’t ready to give it up quite yet. “I can hold him for 48 hours.”

“Sure you can. But what’s a few hours more or less?” The public defendant seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to make any headway with that argument, as he changed gears without warning. “What if he agrees to a monitor?”

That was a solution that would work for her. She just couldn’t imagine that anyone would be willing to take that option. What was she saying? She’d worn one for the past week, and with less reason than Curtis had. Her ankle, so recently liberated, itched with a phantom presence of a band of plastic circling her leg. She scratched at it, placing her attention back on the conversation.

“He agrees to a monitor, I agree to let him out,” she bargained. “Otherwise, it’s a no go, and you’ll just have to wait until the 48 hours run out.”

“Fine. I’ll have his answer in a few.”

Sariah hung up the phone, troubled. With each additional piece of information, she was more and more sure of Curtis Howse’s guilt. And yet…

Glancing back, she caught sight of Joshua, huddled up with Reggie, Bella playing at their feet. And yet, the man who knew Humpty Dumpty better than anyone else alive was having second thoughts. She shook her head. According to the former agent himself, he might start hallucinating when he wasn’t getting enough alcohol. And with the monitor now transferred to him, it was pretty clear he wasn’t drinking.

Reggie laughed, a hearty guffaw, and Sariah had to wonder what the two were talking about. Looking closer, she could see that Reggie was responding to Bella’s antics. The puppy was up on her hind legs, begging for one of the Cheetos Reggie was munching on.

The pair, or the trio if you included the dog, were tracking down more information on King’s Man. Sariah understood that the elegant hobo worked as well as Curtis from a profiling point of view, but there just wasn’t nearly enough hard evidence that linked him to the case. A historic perspective of the railways and bad luck in picking a handle didn’t make a suspect, as far as she was concerned. The fact that she couldn’t tell what Joshua was seeing in him bothered her.

Her phone buzzed, and Sariah snatched it up and glanced at the number, thinking it was the lawyer calling back with an answer. But it was Had’s number that showed up on the screen. What was he up to?

“Coop?” his voice scratched through the speaker of the cell with that background hum that said he was driving. “Just wanted to let you know where I am and what I’m doing right now.”

Sariah flashed back to their last encounter. The sensitive young cop must still be reeling from the tongue-lashing she’d given him. Just because she might think they’d gotten to a good place by the end of the conversation, didn’t mean her momentary loss of temper wasn’t going to cause any future disconnect between Had and her. She needed to do better. Had was one of her best friends, and she didn’t have so many that she could afford to shed one here and there.

“Had, you don’t have to clock in with me. I know you’re out working the case.” She cleared her throat. “I really am sorry about what I said before.”

“Oh, I know,” his voice came back, as cheery as could be. “I’m just headed far enough out that I thought you should know. I called the company, and they said there wasn’t any cell reception out there. Didn’t want you thinking I’d gone off playing hooky.”

Sariah sighed. “Of course not. And once more, I’m sorry about earlier. Now, where are you going?”

“Up to Cedar Rapids,” he replied. “Thought I’d check out the warehouse where Curtis Howse dropped off his shipment of fertilizer, see if maybe there’s any additional leads that might come from it.”

So even Had thought that her focusing on Curtis Howse might be too narrow. She fought down feelings of defensive anger that surged up. He was just doing his job, following up on a lead that no one else had thought of.

“That’s a great idea,” she said, fighting to keep her tone normal. “Check in once you’re there; let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do.” There was a pause, enough so that Sariah thought that maybe he’d disconnected. Then he spoke again. “You okay?”

He must have heard it in her voice. She added some cheer this time, trying to smooth over the burrs in her speech caused by her disappointment.

“Fine. Just fine. Be careful out there, okay?”

“Sure thing, Coop.”

Just as she hung up with Had, the lawyer buzzed back in. An answer on whether or not his client was willing to accept a leash.

Sariah found that she was having trouble answering the call. Even with Joshua, Had, Reggie and the puppy, she felt like she was alone. Alone in her beliefs about their suspects. Alone in her responsibility for the case. Alone in her argument with the defense attorney. Just alone.

But, as always when her darkness surfaced, she pushed it back down and answered the phone. Thinking about the problem didn’t make it go away, and who knew? Maybe having Curtis out of custody would prompt him to make a call that would point them right to a smoking gun.

Didn’t seem likely, but a girl could always hope.

* * *

As Had drove up to Cedar Rapids, he found himself wondering what kinds of smells would greet him this time. The City of Five Smells hadn’t disappointed him last time, and he had a feeling as the summer went by, the scents would only get more and more… interesting.

It hadn’t been too hard to figure out where Curtis had dropped off his load of fertilizer. The call to the trucking company he worked for had been even less trouble than Had’d thought it would be. Apparently having an employee being looked at for multiple homicides made companies want to cooperate.

So now Had was pulling into a warehouse, looking around the enormous grey structure for what might pass as an office space. There had to be some place where the truckers went to check in before offloading their hauls.

And sure enough, on the far side of the structure was an area with a couple of spaces labeled “visitor” and enough glass windows to allow light to seep in for the poor souls stuck inside. An air-conditioning unit chugged away in one of the openings, dripping moisture onto the hot asphalt. It was late afternoon, pushing into evening, but the heat had yet to dissipate from the paved surface. Had could feel the warmth creeping through his boots as he walked toward the office.

Pushing the door open, he heard a bell go off, more than likely to alert the staff that there was a visitor. A wizened old woman looked up from her copy of Good Housekeeping to peer at the intruder.

“You’re not one of our truckers. What do you want?”

Aha. Another challenge. Had walked toward her desk, a grin on his face.

“I’m Officer Hadderly, but you can call me Had. Just had a couple of questions I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh, you’re that boy that called earlier. Talked to my boss,” she said, her lips puckering up in thought. Judging by the amount of wrinkles radiating out from her mouth, this was someone who had spent more than her fair share of time out in the sun.

Had was sure there were all kinds of interesting stories waiting to spill out of those lips of hers, if he could just warm her up a bit. Or maybe cool her off. Even with the air conditioning unit whirring away at full blast, the metal of the warehouse must have been acting like a heat magnet. It felt like it was still 90 degrees in here. As if she heard his thought, she picked up a wet cloth and pressed it against her cheeks.

“It sure is hot this summer, isn’t it?” Had sympathized with her.

“Oh, please,” the woman snorted and waved a hand. “This isn’t half as bad as that summer back in ’89. That heat wave just about killed me.”

“I don’t remember that. I would’ve only been about three or four.”

“Huh,” she said, squinting at him again. “You sure you’re old enough to be a cop?”

“Oh, sure. Well, I mean… I guess so.” Had shrugged his shoulders, still smiling at her. He gave her a wink. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Pshhh.” Her face was gruff, but unless he was imagining it, Had was pretty sure there was a twinkle in her eye. “I’m too much of a shriveled up prune to be flirting with a young buck like yourself.” She looked him up and down. “More’s the pity.”

Had blushed and decided he’d better get on with the investigation part of what brought him here. “I just wanted to ask about a shipment of fertilizer that was dropped off by Curtis Howse.”

“Oh, Curtis!” The woman’s face lit up. “How is that rascal?”

“Um. Good, as far as I know.” Had didn’t want to lie, but he certainly didn’t want to get into what Curtis might be up to with someone that was at least a good acquaintance.

“That’s great. Good family man, that Curtis.” She shuffled some papers around and pulled out a stapled packet of sheets. “Here it is. He was only in a bit ago. Haven’t even had time to file this little booger.” She cackled as she scanned down the page. “What did you want to know?”

“Just if there was any discrepancy between what was listed in the manifest and what actually made it into the warehouse.”

“Oh, checking into some big fertilizer bootlegging scam?” she chuckled as she pulled up something on her computer. “Let’s see.” She moved her face in closer to the screen, tromboning a bit until she seemed to get the focal point right. “Hey. Look at that. It’s off by one bag.”

“Any way to know if that was before or after it was offloaded?” Had asked.

“No way to know for positive, but let me check and see who signed for it.” She scooped back up the manifest and looked down at the signature. “Oh, it was Billy. He’s pretty good about checking the stock when it comes in. Now if it was Carl, that little punk…”

“So, you’re pretty sure that the bag went missing after the shipment was dropped off?” Had pressed, wanting to make sure he was getting this right.

“Well, like I said, there’s no way to know for positive, and it’s only one bag.” She brushed an imaginary speck of dust off of the screen in front of her. “But I’ve never known Billy to make a mistake like that. He’s as careful as they come.”

“Thank you, ma’am. That was really helpful.”

“Oh, don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. I’m Ruby.”

Had smiled at her. “Thanks, Ruby. I really appreciate it.” He moved toward the door. This was information he wanted to get to Coop as soon as possible. It wasn’t enough to clear Curtis, but it was enough to make them really reexamine.

As he stepped back into the heat, Had put a hand up to shield himself from the sun that was reflecting into his face from his car windshield. In another hour or so, the sun would go down, but right now it was doing its best to take out his eyesight.

He stumbled out in the direction of his car, unable to see any obstacles that might await his feet in the badly poured asphalt, when he heard a scraping on the ground behind him. Maybe Ruby’d taken more of an interest in him than he’d thought. As he began to turn around to see who was there, a sharp pain blossomed behind his right ear, stunning him and sending him face first into the scalding blacktop.

Had rolled over as a shadow fell upon him, the form above silhouetted by the sun behind. The last thing he saw was what looked like a bat, speeding right toward his face.

And then everything went black.

* * *

Joshua stretched and yawned, allowing the luxurious feel of his muscles tensing and releasing to give him some comfort. That was, until he saw Reggie watching him from across the table. Then he curled himself back into his normal slouch over the paperwork in front of him, embarrassed that she had seen him in an exposed moment. He reached down to rub Bella’s fur as a way to cover it up.

Why he should feel that way about it, he had no idea. All that he knew was that he did. This girl affected him in ways that he could neither control nor completely understand. She was young enough… not to be his daughter, that would be way too weird. But a niece, maybe? But young or not, inappropriate or not, he could not stop thinking about her.

She caught his attention and poked her finger at the whiteboard they had been using to pin up their evidence. Right now, most of what was there was related in some way to Curtis Howse, but Joshua was doing what he could to rectify that.

Reggie’s finger was right on top of the photograph of the torso, the latest of the crime scenes they’d found. “So, this is the one that was booby trapped, right?”

“Right.”

“And it was right next door to where Curtis dropped off his shipment of fertilizer?”

“Also correct,” Joshua affirmed.

“Had’s out there now, checking on the shipment,” she murmured. “But after some checking, I was able to find several railways that lead directly into Cedar Rapids. A couple have been around forever.”

“Okay, so that fits in with the whole pattern so far, and it also means that King’s Man could have had easy access to Cedar Rapids.” Joshua moved up to the murder board, pointing at another piece of evidence. “But where would he have gotten his hands on the fertilizer?”

“He could have stolen it out of the warehouse,” she answered. “He’s a hobo. It’s not like they’re historically opposed to the five-finger discount.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but his heart wasn’t in it. “It just seems like way too much of a coincidence that he would happen to steal the same stuff that Curtis was carrying. And then there’s the whole diesel angle.”

There was something missing here. Some piece of this puzzle that was eluding him, and it was driving him insane. Like an itch that couldn’t be scratched.

“I keep getting this sense that there’s something obvious here that we’re not looking at,” Reggie said, echoing his own thoughts. “Like if we could just get our heads out of our asses, we’d see it.”

Joshua nodded. This girl was sharp, there was no doubt about it. He wished she weren’t. His wife had been the same… way too smart for her own good. Able to see things that Joshua never could.

Not that having that ability had done anything for her when it mattered the most.

Shaking his head, he put the thoughts of his family aside. Not for the guilt that kept coming up every time he looked at the beautiful young cop beside him. But because it wasn’t helping him get anywhere closer to their killer.

“Where are you hiding?” he whispered, brushing his hands over the map.

“What was that?” Reggie asked.

“Nothing.” He stared at the map, the pins marking the pieces of flesh that made up all the past victims, wondering when the next one would appear. More information. They needed more information. “Have we had any luck with any of the other hobos?”

Reggie blew out past her mostly closed lips, catching a strand of hair on her forehead in the stream of air. “No. Word’s gone out that we’re looking at King’s Man, and they’ve all clammed up. He seems to be a pretty popular guy.”

“What the hell are we missing?” he growled, frustrated at their lack of progress.

The young cop opened her mouth, about to speak, when Agent Cooper’s phone rang from across the room where she was working on her own suspect. Bella perked up at the noise and barked once, then settled back down, her job apparently done. Coop picked up the cell and swiped the screen to answer.

“Agent Cooper.”

Joshua watched as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line. Whatever was being said was having a profound effect, as her face went whiter than he had ever seen it before. She looked up, making eye contact with him, and whatever it was that had spooked her was plastered on her expression; a poster on a construction wall that had bled out all its colors in a rainstorm.

“Yes. We’ll be there in three minutes.” She pressed the end button and moved the hand holding the phone toward her pocket. Once there, it was as if she couldn’t figure out how to get her hand inside. She groped and pushed for a moment, then placed the phone down on the desk in front of her.

“What is it?” Reggie asked. “What happened?”

“It’s Curtis. He killed himself.”

CHAPTER 20

As Sariah walked behind Officer Chance on the way over to Curtis Howse’s hotel room, she watched as Joshua played with Bella. She was even more playful that usual tonight, grabbing the leash between her teeth and playing tug of war, growls slipping between her clenched teeth. At one point she managed to almost trip Joshua, an occurrence that would have had Sariah in stitches at any other moment.

A weight had settled down onto her shoulders and seemed to have no interest in moving any time soon. It had started the moment Officer Chance had called, and it was getting heavier with each step she took toward the hotel room that had, up until just a little while ago, contained a living, breathing soul.

The fact of the suicide was a mixed thing for Sariah. On the one hand, it confirmed what she had suspected. Curtis was guilty. There was no other reason that he would have taken his life.

But the other part of it, the part that had caused her to almost pass out when the call came and that was now creating knots in her shoulders, was that she knew how hard she had pushed him. Whatever Curtis was guilty of, his death raised as many questions as it solved. She had not expected the case to end like this.

What this must be like for Joshua, she had no idea. They had found the man that had killed his wife and children, but he had taken his own life before he could really get any closure. She risked a glance at the former agent, but he appeared fine. A bit puzzled, perhaps, but just fine.

It had to be some kind of delayed reaction. Had and she should make sure and watch over him with an extra amount of vigilance tonight.

As for Had, Sariah had no idea where he was. She’d called and texted, but there hadn’t been any response. It was possible that he was just in a dead zone, but it was getting late, and she could really use him here. If not for his sharp eyes and keen mind, then for his enthusiasm. When she was feeling low, there were few people that could lift her up quite like he could.

Even as she thought that, Reggie reached out a hand, resting it on Sariah’s shoulder and giving her a quick squeeze. She seemed to have Had’s talent for spotting pain and the same desire to help it go away. While she wasn’t as energetic as Had, she had been a brilliant addition to their group.

“You ready to go in there?” Reggie asked.

What Sariah wanted to say was no, but not wanting to see the results of her words wouldn’t make them any less real. And sooner or later, she was going to have to deal with this. Might as well be sooner. Get it over with.

“I’m fine,” she said, moving forward and leaving Reggie’s hand behind.

And then Officer Chance was swinging the hotel door wide, and Sariah was pulling up the crime tape and walking inside. There, dangling from a rope that had been attached to the ceiling with an eyebolt, was Curtis Howse.

“He left a note,” the officer said, not making eye contact with Sariah. She could understand that. It was hard enough to stay present during a typical murder investigation. When someone took their own life, it could strike that much closer to home. Who hadn’t thought of how much easier it would be to just check out from time to time?

She moved over to the desk, where the note had been printed in neat, almost obsessive, handwriting. The pen had been placed with precision, at a 90 degree angle to the side of the page, centered over the top.

Mi Querida Lourdes,

I’m so sorry.

This wasn’t my plan. Not to go like this. I only did it because I knew how much worse your lives would have been if I hadn’t. You would have lost everything that was important to you, and I couldn’t stand being the reason that happened.

You’ll be taken care of, I promise. I have life insurance, and since I took it out over five years ago, they have to pay up, even though I’ve ended things this way. I checked. So don’t worry about that part. Believe me, it’s better this way.

I know you’re mad at me, and that’s okay. You be as mad as you want. Just know that I did it all for you and our family.

You wouldn’t have a day’s peace for the next ten years if I didn’t do this. I can’t really explain, but the police would’ve swarmed over our house and never given you a second to be alone and unworried.

I hope someday you’ll forgive me.

Con cariño,

Curtis

The phrases echoed in her ears, loud as a jet engine but quiet enough for her to feel each sound separately, distinctly. Would have lost everything that was important to you. Wouldn’t have a day’s peace. Swarmed over our house. All phrases that Sariah had said to him, almost verbatim.

She might not have been the one to string Curtis up, but she had pretty much put the rope in his hands and told him it might be a good idea.

He was a murderer. The man had killed dozens of people, chopped them up and spread them around the country in a grisly game of cat and mouse with law enforcement. Sariah had to remind herself of that.

And yet, he had a family. A wife. Children.

Right now, Sariah was having a tough time reconciling those two opposing sides of the man. She wasn’t sure it was something she would ever be able to figure out.

* * *

Joshua stared at the note over Coop’s shoulder. Once more he was struck by a sense of wrongness about the whole situation. He pointed at the piece of paper.

“You noticed the Spanish phrases at the beginning and end?”

“Yes.” Her voice wavered for a moment, then firmed up. “What about them?”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“What are you talking about? He killed himself. He left a note.”

“That’s my point,” he replied. “It’s like I said before. It’s too easy.”

“Easy?” It was clear that he had struck a nerve with her. The normally composed agent seemed uncomfortable in her own skin, shifting from foot to foot. “There is nothing easy about this.”

More self-pity. Yikes. Time to nip that in the bud.

Almost as if Bella could hear his thought, she started nipping at his shoelaces. That dog had the worst sense of timing in the world.

“Spare me,” he growled at Coop, pulling his shoe away from Bella with a warning look. “Your remorse is as uninteresting as reading the phone book while playing cricket. I’m talking about the case.”

“The case is solved.”

“Bullshit. It may feel nice and wrapped up, but that’s part of the problem here. Humpty is a loner. He doesn’t care about anything but the killings and the puzzle.”

Agent Cooper stared at him, the muscle at the side of her jaw clenching and unclenching. “How much evidence do you need before you realize that this is it? It’s done. It’s finished.”

“It can’t be,” he said, frowning. “This can’t be it.”

Joshua caught something then. An expression on Coop’s face. One that said that she had figured out something important. Or that she thought she had, which amounted to the same thing for most people. You can’t tell anyone anything they aren’t willing to hear. Not if you’re hoping they’ll do something about it.

“That’s the real problem here,” she said. “You can’t imagine finally putting this to bed.”

Classic deflection. He was disappointed. He’d come to expect more from Agent Cooper. But what the hell. Maybe he should just let this play out. See where she thought this whole thing was going.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“This guilt… this pain… has been sitting on your shoulders for so long that you can’t bear to have it taken away from you.”

Her words penetrated in a way that he wasn’t expecting. She was so very wrong about so much, but it was possible that she knew what she was talking about on this count. The woman was perceptive when it came to certain things, he had to give her that.

Too bad it didn’t make any difference where it really counted.

“Sure. Whatever. I don’t really care about all of that.” He turned to walk out of the hotel room, but couldn’t resist speaking over his shoulder as he left. “But whether you’re right or wrong about me, deep down you know I’m right about the case.”

Let her chew on that little tidbit for a while.

Joshua was going to go take his puppy for a walk.

* * *

Sariah spent as long as she could going over the scene with the local cops, Reggie there at her side, her presence as helpful as the physical tasks of clearing the scene she was performing. This young woman was a gem in the rough, a real find. Sariah found herself wondering if there was any way she could snag her for the team.

And then she caught sight of Curtis Howse’s body as it was being taken down by the officers. There was no need to attach Reggie to their team. There was no more team. The case was finished.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and looked at the number. It wasn’t one that she recognized, but the area code was the same as Had’s.

“Special Agent Sariah Cooper,” she answered.

“Well it’s about time I got through to someone,” a voice came through the speaker. Sariah recognized the twang immediately. Had’s mother.

“Ms. Hadderly?” she asked, surprised. “How did you get my number?”

“Oh, darlin’, it ain’t hard. All you gotta know is how to sweet talk a few folk here and there.” Then her tone hardened. “But that’s not important. Where’s my boy?”

Sariah thought about it for a moment. “I’m not positive. He went out to check on a lead, but he should be back by now.”

“Well, I tried gettin’ ahold of him about two-and-a-half hours ago, and I’ve been callin’ him straight for the past hour. Keeps goin’ straight through to voicemail.”

That wasn’t good. Had should be back in cell phone range by now. “I’ll check it out, and when I know something, I’ll get back to you.”

“See that you do,” Had’s mother threatened. “You’re responsible for him, and if somethin’ happens, I’m takin’ it out of your hide.” The line clicked as she hung up.

Thing was, Sariah didn’t doubt her for a second. She turned to Reggie.

“Hey, have you heard from Had?”

The young cop dragged her eyes away from the corpse. Sariah could only assume that this was her first suicide. What the hell kind of first experiences was she providing for these inexperienced friends of hers? Maybe she should talk to the BAU about offering post-case therapy for everyone involved.

Especially Joshua. That guy had more baggage than a TSA guard on a rampage.

Reggie finished checking her cell that she had pulled out. “Doesn’t look like I’ve missed any calls or texts from him. Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure,” Sariah answered. “I haven’t had any contact with him since he let me know he was headed out to Cedar Rapids. But that was over three hours ago.”

“That doesn’t sound like Had,” Reggie muttered to herself. She seemed to think for a minute, then brightened. “Wait a sec. He made me add him on that app that tracks people. I should be able to find out where he is.” She opened up the program and waited for it to give her the information she was looking for.

“So, you guys can know where the other person is at all times?” Sariah asked, thinking that was a bit too intimate for her tastes. Although… there were people she might want to keep closer tabs on. Joshua, for one.

Reggie grinned. “Yeah. If it were anyone other than Had, I never would have done it. He’s just so…” she seemed to grope for the appropriate word, “nice, you know?”

Sariah did know. That was part of what had her so concerned right now. He was nice enough that if he knew he was going to be this late coming back, he would have called or texted to let her know.

Frowning, Reggie shook her phone. “That’s weird.”

“What?”

“He’s not anywhere,” she answered.

“You mean he turned his phone off?” Was it possible that Sariah had misjudged? That Had was off at a strip club or something and didn’t want to be interrupted? She’d certainly been pushing him pretty hard lately. Maybe even Had wanted his privacy from time to time.

“No, he wouldn’t just turn off his phone. That doesn’t sound like Had at all.”

“So what does that mean?”

Reggie looked up at Sariah, her face beginning to show signs of worry. “It means that either his battery ran out, or that he uninstalled the program.”

“Why would he…” she started, then stopped. “He wouldn’t. There’s no reason for him to do it.”

“Could someone else have…?”

That wasn’t possible. The someone else was being carted off to the morgue right now. This had to be some kind of missed connection. Some simple misunderstanding that would be cleared up and they would all end up feeling foolish about it.

Unless they didn’t.

Just how important was it that Sariah be proven right on this?

Not important enough.

“Reggie, call the precinct and check to make sure that he didn’t go back there for some reason,” Sariah directed her. “I’ll go grab Joshua, and we’ll meet back in the workspace.”

It was all going to work out. Had would be back at the police building or hanging out in the hotel. He’d probably just run through some sprinklers again by mistake. This was no big deal. They’d all laugh about it in the morning.

She kept telling herself that until she got back to the hotel. It never got more convincing.

* * *

Joshua wanted to kick Agent Cooper. Or at least hobble her.

She had paced back and forth across the length of the workspace eleven times since they got there, Bella chasing along behind her, thinking it was some kind of a game. Coop’s next circuit of the space was almost done, and then she’d be on to the twelfth. It was like Chinese water torture. Each time her foot landed, it seemed to get louder and louder and louder.

“Stop it!” he barked, then pulled back, pointing at one of the chairs surrounding the table. “Would you sit?” She looked at him, her face a blank slate. “Please?”

“I can’t,” she shot back, and kept pacing. This was going to turn into a very serious situation in a minute.

Right at the moment that Joshua was sure would be his breaking point, Agent Cooper’s phone rang. He pointed at the cell in her hand.

“See? That’s him, right?”

She glanced down at the phone and pursed her lips. “No,” she said, staring at the number on the screen.

“Well, who is it?”

“Someone from the station.”

The cell rang again. Joshua gestured toward the instrument in her hand. “Are you going to answer, or are you waiting for me to do it?”

She nodded, then held the cell up to her ear. Swallowing, she cleared her throat and spoke into the phone. “Agent Cooper.”

Turning her attention back to the conversation on the phone, Coop’s face went blank, then pale. “What?”

“What is it?” Joshua asked.

She sank into one of the chairs, almost as if she had lost conscious control of her limbs. As she spoke into the phone, it seemed almost an afterthought. Like it was something expected of her that she knew would make nothing better.

“Yes, okay. Thank you.”

She turned to face Joshua.

“That was the results of the mass spec. The diesel fuel wasn’t a match for Curtis’ truck.”

* * *

Sariah’s brain wouldn’t work.

She’d heard people talk about that before, but it had always seemed like such a cop out. Oh, I can’t function, don’t blame me. And yet, here she was, one small step above comatose. Helpless.

Wrong.

She was wrong.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she barely noticed. All of her attention was focused on her mistakes. Her mistakes that had cost a man his life.

The information wouldn’t compute. It was shutting down her sensory input, replacing it was random static. Joshua was saying something to her, but it was like he was moving his mouth and no words were coming out.

Finally, like a radio tuning in, his words swirled to the surface of her consciousness. She grasped at their meaning, seeking for understanding.

“… you staring at the wall. Get off your ass and do something about it.”

What was she supposed to do? There was nothing she could do. It was all wrong. Everything was twisted out of shape, and it was all her fault.

She struggled for the words to tell him. “He killed himself.”

“Yes. He did.”

“I made that happen.”

He nodded. “Yes. You did.”

“How?” she pleaded. “How did that happen? I did everything right. I followed the evidence. Played by the rules.”

His next words shocked her into stillness.

“Shut up.”

When it was clear that there had been no misunderstanding, that there was no follow up to be had from the former agent, Sariah prodded him. He was holding something back. Something that was important for her to understand. She could tell.

“What?” she asked.

“Shut. Up.”

That couldn’t be it. There had to be something more. Some jewel of wisdom winnowed from his days of depravity. Some insight that he could share with her.

“I don’t—” she began.

“Yes, you did this,” he cut her off, his tone level but fierce. “You did it all. You were so sure of yourself. So positive that you knew what no one else did. Now a man’s dead for your arrogance.”

“I—”

“I said, shut up!” he barked. “You wanted me to talk? I’m talking.” He moved in close to her, his breath warm against her cheek. “You want me to throw you a pity party? It’s not going to happen.”

She shrank back from him, wanting to call back the words she had spoken that had started this deluge. Wanting to erase the sounds issuing forth from Joshua’s mouth.

He continued, unrelenting. “You did everything right? So what. It’s not fair? No one gives a shit.” He pointed a finger at her. “I had lost my entire family. My wife. My kids. I was reeling from the shock. And what happened? Did someone come to my rescue?”

Sariah wanted to shut off the flood of his words, make them stop somehow or at least hurt less. But they continued to come without pause.

“Oh, no. No. At that very moment, right when I needed the universe to hold out its hand, my parents were killed in a car wreck.”

Wait. Had she known that? It seemed like something that she should have known. His voice droned on, the tragedy of the incident lost in the barrage of sounds he hurled at her head. So much pain. Pain and pain and pain and more pain.

“So don’t go looking for right. Don’t go looking for fair. Just get up and do something.” He backed away from her, all the energy dissipating out of his form, leaving him an empty husk. “Or don’t. I couldn’t care less.”

Sariah opened her mouth, looking for something to say. Anything. But the moment extended, passed her by, and still she had said nothing.

Her phone rang again. This time it was Had’s mother. There was no news of her son, and she couldn’t face Ms. Hadderly right now. She pushed the button to send the call through to voicemail. She’d call her back when there was something to tell her.

And then Reggie rushed in.

“I can’t find Had anywhere.”

Interesting. Now that there was news, Sariah found that she was even less capable of speaking to his mother. She had thought that she couldn’t feel any worse than she did at discovering the man she had pushed into committing suicide was innocent.

Turned out, that was just one more thing she had gotten wrong.

CHAPTER 21

Joshua stared at the murder board, Reggie at his side. Agent Cooper was still huddled in a corner with tears pouring out of her eyes, playing with her fingers, or whatever the hell she was doing over there. Something that didn’t involve helping them figure this whole mess out.

Bella was playing tug-o-war with a piece of cloth she’d found when Joshua had walked over here from the hotel. From the way she was growling and wrestling with the fabric, you’d think there was someone else on the other end of the rag.

There wasn’t.

“We need to start over,” he muttered.

“Absolutely,” Reggie agreed.

“No, I’m not sure you understand.” Joshua walked up to the board, and with one strong movement of his arms, swept off every scrap of evidence they’d accumulated working this case. “I mean start over.”

Reggie stood there, stunned. “But you… I… you…” She cleared her throat, tugging at a strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear. “You just threw away a butt load of evidence.” She looked down at the pile in front of the board. “Is it wrong that I thought that was kind of hot?”

Joshua thrust that statement and the mental images that came along with them out of his head. He gazed up at the blank canvas of the whiteboard in front of him, trying to ignore the radiant heat signature of the person standing next to him. This case was what was important.

“Okay,” he murmured. “What do we know for sure?”

“Well, we know that the killer’s Humpty,” Reggie answered.

“No, we don’t,” came a voice from behind them. Coop. There were tracks on her cheeks that showed where the tears had been, but for the moment she wasn’t crying. She looked drained, like there was nothing left.

She moved up next to them, hunched over like she’d been punched in the gut, peering at the white surface of the board. Then she turned to face him. “You were right. You kept saying there was something wrong, and I ignored you.” Tears sprang up in her eyes once more.

“Whatever,” he said, gently directing her attention back to the board. “You’ve got to keep it together. What do we know?”

“We know that there’s someone out there who may or may not be Humpty,” Reggie offered, looking like she was trying to redeem herself in his eyes. Dammit. He had to be more careful about what he said and how he said it. It had been a long time since he cared enough about anyone to do that.

“We also know that this someone is a hell of a lot smarter than we gave them credit for,” Joshua added. “He set up Curtis to take the fall.”

“Which is why it looked so perfect,” Reggie said.

“I didn’t see it. I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Joshua muttered to himself.

“Hey.” Reggie caught his attention. “Time to take your own advice. Shut up. I heard you say so many times that there was something off.”

Okay. He might have deserved that one. Still… “But I should’ve realized that a set up was a possibility, especially with all the baiting the killer was doing.”

“One more time, Joshua. Shut. Up.”

Bella came up to Joshua’s side, tossing the cloth on his shoe, and then began bouncing around him, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. She wanted to play.

“Later, Bella,” he said, flipping the cloth over to the other side of the room. Bella raced after it, distracted, at least for the moment.

“So, what did you see that was different?” Reggie asked. “What kept making you think this case was off?”

“It was the killer’s whole attitude. Our other guy was older, doing everything he could to stay out of the limelight. But this guy…”

“He practically took out ads in the paper,” Coop said, her voice cracking. It was clear her statement was a blow directed at herself.

“Right.” Joshua paced back and forth in front of the board, filling in the lines and spaces in his mind. “He was taunting us. Stringing us along. He wanted us to chase him.”

“If Had’s really been taken, it has to have been someone that’s pretty close to the investigation,” Reggie added. Bella bounced over to her, once more shaking the rag, looking for a playmate. Reggie grabbed end of the cloth and pulled for a second, before perking back up as Joshua started speaking again.

“He would have done it in a way that we wouldn’t notice it happening. Incorporating himself into the group without…” He paused, making a realization. “Wait. I’m doing it again.”

“What?” Coop asked.

“Making assumptions. I keep saying he.” Joshua swiveled toward Reggie. “When there’s nothing at all to say it couldn’t be a she.”

* * *

Sariah couldn’t take in the information. She turned her head back and forth between Reggie and Joshua. That can’t have been what Joshua meant.

“How could you think—?” she began.

But Joshua’s attention was all on Reggie. “You’ve certainly managed to insinuate yourself into our investigation pretty well.”

“Yeah, but I…” Reggie said. Her face was flushed, and beads of sweat had broken out on her brow.

“You’re young, intelligent,” Joshua continued. “You know the history behind the rail systems that could have been used. You have flexible hours at work, so you could travel.”

“But I’m not the killer,” she said. Sariah watched as her nostrils flared and her pupils contracted down to pinpoints.

“Prove it,” he shot back.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sariah stepped in, a salient fact coming to her. “It couldn’t have been her.”

“Why not?” Joshua asked, never taking his eyes off of Reggie.

“Because she was with us the entire time Had was getting himself kidnapped.”

Reggie breathed out a sigh of what looked like relief and shot Sariah a grateful look. “It really isn’t me.”

“Okay, I’ll buy that she didn’t kidnap Had,” the former agent allowed. “At least not by herself. But she’s been close to Had and even closer to this investigation.”

“Besides, we’re looking for a loner, right?” Sariah asked. “Someone who works on his own? Doesn’t really take to other people well?” She pointed at Reggie. “Any of that sound like her?”

“Maybe not, but don’t go jetting off anytime soon,” Joshua said, his eyes glued to Reggie.

Bella, having grown tired of tossing the cloth in the air, skittered to a halt in front of Sariah. It seemed that after having tried and failed to get Joshua and Reggie to play with her, for this go-round, it was Sariah’s turn. She sighed and went to grab the piece of fabric.

Joshua’s hand reached down and pulled the cloth away from both her and the dog. Sariah found herself mildly irritated with him for that.

“I was going to play with her for a minute.”

“Hold on,” he said, spreading out the cloth. The former agent pulled the edges wide. There, on the surface of the fabric, was some lettering.

Wikipedia is Accurate (citation needed).

Where had she seen that before? There was something so familiar about it, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It was like her brain was slogging through molasses.

And then, Joshua started running.

He was out the door almost before Sariah had even realized that he was on the move, Bella prancing along behind in his wake. She rushed after him, Reggie following along behind.

Joshua was sprinting around corners, speeding through the truck stop like someone possessed, running into a couple of customers in the process. Sariah apologized for him as they passed by.

“Sorry! FBI!” She hoped that would explain it.

Rounding a corner, Sariah nearly ran into the former agent. Just as quickly as he’d begun running, he’d stopped. They all stood in front of the counter at the truck stop museum, panting and out of breath.

“He’s not here,” Joshua stated, looking around the space.

And just like that, Sariah understood. And in her understanding, she despaired.

* * *

Had woke up to a pounding head and a mouth that was drier than the Sahara at midday. He blinked, trying to focus eyes that didn’t want to cooperate. Wherever he was right now, it was dark. Dark, hot and humid. Like a sauna with the lights turned off.

“’Bout time you woke up,” came a voice off to Had’s right somewhere. The way the voice echoed made him think that they must be in a fairly large and open space.

The sound of the voice was familiar. It was one he had heard before, but there was something different about it. Sharper, more direct. Present. Had gave the voice more of a mumble, took away some of the intelligence and came up with a surprising result.

Preston.

It was Preston.

And what was Had doing here in the dark with a throbbing head with a stoner gas station attendant? How did he get here?

He had been checking on the fertilizer.

Someone had hit him on the back of the head and then again in the front.

Someone that had known where he was.

Someone that knew he was checking to see if there was an alternate theory to the trucker being the killer.

Someone like Preston.

Preston was the killer.

Wait. What? That couldn’t be right.

“Yep. About now you’ve figured out that it’s me, and that you were wrong about… shit… pretty much everything. Oh, and I know all that because I saw your murder board, dude. You guys really should be more careful about who you let go into your workspace.”

Had’s mind spun, thinking back to all of the conversations he and Preston had shared. And not just stuff about the case. All of the weird things he hadn’t seemed to know about from Michigan. Pasties. The Spirit of Curling. He’d put it all up to Preston being from Detroit, but…

“It’s kind of freaky that you didn’t figure it out earlier,” the attendant continued. “When you first showed up there at the station, I almost shat myself. But you just wandered all around, questioning everyone but me.”

“You’re too young,” Had responded finally, his mouth catching up to his thoughts.

“That’s your issue? With everything else you could be hung up on, you picked that?”

“Hey! I just found out my new friend is a serial killer,” Had shot back. “I’m still trying to catch up here.”

“Don’t strain anything, bra. Seriously. You guys are lucky if you have a brain between the three of you.” Preston leaned back, turning to the right and the left with a sharp motion, cracking his back in both directions. “No, make that four. Man, that Reggie’s a hottie. I almost went for her instead of you, but then she would’ve ended up hacked to bits, and that would just be a crying shame.”

It was the last reaction Had would’ve thought to come out of him right at this point, but he started to laugh. And the more he laughed, the more he could tell it was really bugging Preston.

“What?” he asked. “What’s so funny?”

“Well, you thinking you have a shot with Reggie, for one,” Had snorted.

A scowl plastered itself all over Preston’s face. “If she’ll pay attention to that bald asshole Joshua—”

Had continued as if there had been no interruption. “And calling Agent Cooper and Joshua stupid, for two. But you’ll figure that out when they get here.”

Preston’s scowl deepened, but then it morphed into a leer. “You think your precious Joshua’s coming for you? He’s too busy flirting to do anything else. Besides, he hates you.”

“Joshua doesn’t hate me. We’re like brothers.”

“Yeah,” Preston mocked him. “Cain and Abel, maybe. Bra, he punched you for talking about monkeys.”

“That was…” Had started, then stopped. He wasn’t going to get sucked into an argument with this guy over his relationship status with Joshua. He knew where he stood with the former agent. Didn’t he?

“Doesn’t matter,” Preston said, brushing the conversation aside. “You’re going to be way too busy to worry about anything.”

“What, time to chop me into bits?” Had asked, keeping his tone light. He wasn’t going to give Preston the satisfaction of seeing him sweat.

“That’ll come sooner or later,” he said, coming in closer to Had. “But first, I think we need to get to know each other a little bit better.”

That didn’t sound too promising. And no matter what he said to Preston, he had no idea how Joshua, Coop and Reggie were going to figure out where he was. For all he knew, they still thought he was back in Cedar Rapids. Come to think of it, Had wasn’t sure that he wasn’t.

He was tied up in a dark place with a serial killer. This might be even worse than the time Mama found his stash of girlie magazines. Had thought about that for a minute. Yeah, no. This didn’t even hold a candle to that.

Maybe he’d change his mind when the body parts started coming off.

CHAPTER 22

It had taken some time for Joshua to track down Preston’s boss, but once he did, the information came pretty quickly. One look at Joshua’s face and the supervisor at Iowa 80 pulled out the attendant’s personnel file, asking if there was anything else he could do for all of the nice FBI agents. It was a mark of Coop’s deteriorated mental state that she didn’t bother correcting him.

After a brief moment of stepping back up to the plate to try to figure out who had taken Had, Agent Cooper had practically disintegrated. She burst into tears at the drop of a hat, she was three steps behind at every point, and she’d barely said a word in the last hour and a half.

At least they hadn’t gotten any more calls from Had’s mom. After the first flurry of calls, it had been almost three hours since they’d heard from her.

And now they were headed out to the country to meet with Preston’s parents, the Longton’s, face to face. Reggie had wanted to call, hoping to get information as quickly as possible, but Joshua had shut that down.

He wanted to look into the mother and father’s faces as they found out what their son might be capable of. So much could be discovered in that split second of vulnerability. And if they knew where their son was, they would be much more likely to give it away in that moment. Given time to prepare, they would be able to bury all but the most extreme of reactions.

All of his experience and training was there, waiting for him to use it. When he had started on this idiotic journey with Had and Coop, he hadn’t been at all positive. He’d doubted himself, letting Agent Cooper run away with things that he knew in his gut either weren’t going to work, or were flat out the wrong choice.

But not now.

Not wanting to wait for Reggie to get a cop cruiser to come pick them up, Joshua had started looking for a taxi. Whether it was out of some bizarre loyalty to Had, or it was because he thought he could better convince him to speed, Joshua had decided to find Darrel, the bearded wannabe trucker. And sure enough, he had been more than willing to disregard every single one of the safety requirements listed on the inside of his cab to help find Had.

“We going fast enough? I might be able to crank some more speed out of this hunk of metal if I’m not worried about the transmission,” the driver shouted over his shoulder. They were going 113 right now.

“Just be on the lookout for the exit,” Joshua replied.

He would never have believed it, and if anyone had suggested it he would have laughed him or her to shame, but he missed Had. Missed the young cop’s easy banter and sense of humor. Even missed the weird brother-slash-hero-worship thing Had wouldn’t let go of.

Coop’s cell phone rang, and when she finally answered after four rings and a stern look from Joshua, an angry but indistinct voice leaked out past her ear. It sounded like Had’s mom. Great. Looked like she was back on the clock.

After what sounded like a long tirade, there was a break in the sound, long enough for Agent Cooper to speak. Her tone was weak, indecisive. “We’re doing everything we can—” was as far as she got.

The voice got even louder and angrier, more than Joshua would have thought possible on a cell phone. This woman seemed to have the lungs of a deep-sea diver. And from the snippets he could understand, the vocabulary of a sailor.

“Ms….” her voice cracked. “Sorry, Ms. Hadderly, we’re going to get your son back.” The voice on the other end of the line peaked and then cut off without warning. Coop put away her cell phone with a shake of her head and burst into tears again. But Joshua had heard something toward the end of the call. It had been garbled and indistinct, but it had sounded like… something familiar. Maybe a car starting? Was Had’s mom on the move? That’s just what they needed, a psychotic mother tailing them while they tracked down their teammate. At least she had a ways to go before she could get here.

The thought of that kid, tied up and tortured by a psychopath had Joshua thinking of something other than himself and his own pain for once. Even Reggie wasn’t a distraction right now. He glanced in her direction. Okay, maybe a small distraction.

Reggie had been incredible, mobilizing the small police force and having them follow along behind. Everyone knew they might be chasing a phantom lead here, but it seemed that Had’s influence had made an impact on pretty much everyone. They were all ready to go to bat if there was even the smallest chance of success in finding their friend.

Joshua also had to admit that Coop had done an excellent job of letting go of her own angst. Rather than weep and bitch about how it was all her fault that Had was kidnapped, she’d just sucked it up and done what needed to be done. And there hadn’t been a single mention of Curtis. Again, not that Joshua would ever tell her.

Thinking it through, Joshua could see that there might be a pattern there. Not that he was about to do anything about it. At least not right now.

Even Bella was being well behaved right now. It was almost as if the puppy could tell that something serious was going on. She curled up at Joshua’s feet, her eyes huge as she stared up at him.

He would have to talk to Darrel about keeping her in the car. There was no way Joshua wanted to risk Bella getting hurt as they hunted their prey.

The wheels of the car screeched as Darrel took the exit too fast. The deceleration of the vehicle pressed Bella into the seat in front of her, and she whined with worry.

“It’ll be okay,” Reggie whispered at the pup, rubbing her head. “We’ll find him.”

The Longton’s property was out in the middle of nowhere, but with Darrel driving, it took half the time it should’ve before they were pulling into the dirt driveway that led to their house. It was a rambler, painted a bright yellow, with a wraparound porch encircling the façade and two sides. Not the kind of place that seemed like it would breed a serial killer. A dirty white Ford F-250 truck that had seen some wear sat off to the side where the driveway widened as it led up to the house.

A Border Collie and a Lab rushed out to challenge their unexpected vehicle, barking at the occupants of the taxi. Bella perked her head up and responded to the opening salvo with vigor.

A light went on at the front of the house, whether from a motion sensor or someone inside turning it on, it was impossible to tell. It was now close to nine o’clock, and it was Joshua’s guess that they weren’t used to getting a lot of visitors, no matter what part of the day it was.

The front door of the house swung partially open, and a woman of about forty poked her head and torso out. She seemed to be wearing a housecoat and no makeup, as if she were getting ready for bed. At nine? That was an early bedtime. Maybe this was just the way she spent her time around the house when there was no one there.

At that point, the door swung even wider, and the husband appeared. He was dressed in a white t-shirt with brown pit stains and some loose, flowy pants that looked like pajamas. Perhaps they were on their way to bed after all.

As Joshua, Reggie and finally Coop piled out of the car, they had to push Bella back in to keep her from going after the dogs in the yard. She jumped up and down in the window, barking for them to take her along. The Collie and the Lab growled at the intruders, but then as Reggie crooned to them, they came forward and sniffed at her hand, somewhat mollified.

“What you doing on my property?” the man called out across the yard. His voice was deep and raspy, the sound of a three-pack-a-day habit.

Not the most gracious of welcomes, but Joshua couldn’t blame the man too much. Having three strangers show up in a taxi at night had to be disconcerting.

Joshua looked to Coop to start talking, but she was standing there with her mouth partially open, looking like she was close to comatose. He stepped in to cover.

“I’m Joshua Wright, a consultant on the case, and this is Officer Black and Special Agent Cooper with the BAU. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”

Joshua watched their reactions, first the mother, then the father. From the mother, there was worry and a tightening of the mouth. Mr. Longmore’s response was more belligerent, defensive, with a clamping down of his jaw. Neither one evinced surprise.

“What’s this about?” called down the mother, her voice quavering.

“Your son,” Joshua responded.

There was the hint of a sob from the mother before Mr. Longmore gave her a sharp look that caused her face to go blank and pale. Was he an abuser? Watching the wife’s movements, they seemed furtive, small, intended not to draw attention. Telltale signs that would have been missed by someone not looking for them.

“What’s he done?” croaked the mother, before Mr. Longmore could give her another meaningful glance. She was worried, and seemed ready to talk to whomever might be able to give her a few answers. But that was not the father’s plan, from what Joshua was seeing in his body language.

“Well, he’s not here,” the father said, his tone blunt. “He works at the truck stop. Why don’t you check there?”

“We’ve just come from there, Mr. Longmore,” Reggie said, after glancing at Coop to see if she would respond. “Is there somewhere here that he might spend time? A basement room, or a finished garage? Some place where he would go for privacy?”

Mr. Longmore dropped his eyes and looked at the ground, shifting his feet. “No, there’s nowhere like that,” he answered.

But Joshua was looking at the mother. For a second, right after Reggie asked the question, she had looked off to the right, her gaze distant. She stopped herself right afterward, but Joshua knew he had seen something honest. There was a place, and Preston’s mother seemed to think that her son might be there.

In addition to the body language from the mom, there were additional clues to be had from the father. The back of his neck was dark brown, as were his arms, up to the middle of his upper arm. There was a distinct line at that point, and the rest of his skin was almost pasty.

Even the pattern of sun on his weathered face indicated that the sun had hit him while he was walking upright. This was not someone who spent time lazing in the sun to get a tan. This was a hardworking man that made his living out in the sun, yet his home was large and well appointed. More than what might be expected for a blue-collar worker.

“You’re a farmer,” Joshua realized out loud.

Preston’s father refocused his attention on him. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

“You have a place where you keep all your equipment, right? Where you store your harvest? Someplace enclosed?”

The man’s expression told Joshua that he could see where this was going but had no reasonable explanation for why he would refuse the information. He shuffled his feet again, which Joshua was starting to identify as his “tell”.

“Yeah. We got a few buildings out by the fields.”

“And I’m guessing that they all have cellars?” Joshua added. “This is part of tornado alley, right?”

Mr. Longmore grunted, which Joshua took to be assent. The cellar of a storage facility on a farm would be the perfect place to hold a victim. Ideal for killing them. Even adequate for some dismemberment. Preston had his pick of a very large litter, from what Joshua could tell.

“Where are they?” Reggie pressed.

The farmer thrust his jaw out, making it clear that he had no desire to be helpful right now. Joshua watched as Reggie’s eyebrow lifted. She knew what was going on. The girl was sharp.

“It’s information that we’ll get one way or another, Mr. Longmore. We have more than enough to get whatever warrants we need. But you need to know that there is a member of our team whose life is in danger. Helping us will go a long way toward earning some goodwill for your son.”

As Mr. Longmore moved out toward the street to point out the directions to Reggie, Joshua hung back, placing himself as close to the wife as he could without being obvious about it. She’d been staring at him since they’d started talking about Preston. Furtive looks that ended as soon as he realized they were there. She wanted to talk to him but was afraid.

Sure enough, as Joshua got closer to where she was standing up on the porch, Preston’s mother came down to the railing and rested her arms against it. To anyone watching, it might have appeared to be nothing. But to Joshua it was an invitation.

“You’re worried about your son,” he said, without looking at her or raising his voice.

She nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. Her gaze went to her husband, who was gesturing off in the direction of what Joshua guessed were the fields.

“I love my boy,” she said.

“But there are things that just don’t fit and you’re afraid of what he’s done… or might do.”

Another nod. “He was always a strange boy. Wanted to be off by himself most of the time. Loved his biology classes. Dissecting frogs and whatnot. Didn’t have any friends to speak of.”

Joshua waited for a moment, until it was clear she wouldn’t say more without prompting. “Have you seen him?”

The tears flowed faster as she nodded her head a third time. “He stopped by a few hours ago. Told us he was going back in to work the graveyard. But that’s not the direction he went.”

“He went off to the fields?”

She didn’t directly respond to the question. “He’ll leave. Sometimes for days at a time. Says he’s busy working at the station or out with friends, but when I call for him at work, he’s not there. And he don’t have no friends.” Another quick sob and she straightened herself back up.

“Mrs. Longmore, I—”

“I see what’s real. He had a tough childhood,” she said, looking off in the direction of Preston’s father.

That fit with Joshua’s instinct about abuse. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with her next words.

“Keep my boy safe if you can. But you do what you got to do.” She moved off toward the front door of the house, but then turned back. “If something happens out there, don’t come back looking for forgiveness from me. Might be he’s broken, but he’s also my son. And if you hurt him and show your face where I can see it, I’ll kill you.”

Joshua watched as the woman exited back into the house. In spite of himself, he found that he liked this mother of a serial killer.

He marched off toward the taxi, leaving Mrs. Longmore to her grief. He didn’t expect to see her ever again.

* * *

“This will work. This is going to work. It has to.”

Had listened as Preston ranted to himself. The ravings had gotten more and more intense the longer they’d spent together.

It wasn’t like it was Had’s fault. Preston was doing everything he could to scare him, and while some of it had been downright uncomfortable, Had would be lying if he said he’d been scared. Maybe it would be smarter to let Preston think he was succeeding, but that could just get him killed faster.

“Preston, buddy, why are you doing this?”

The attendant stopped what he was doing and glared at Had. “You need to understand what it is to be helpless and afraid.”

“But why? Where does this—?”

“Because you had it good!” he yelled, losing his cool for a moment. Preston took a moment and composed himself. “You’re so nice. Talking to everyone you meet, sharing your stories, making them like you. You think the best of everyone. It’s time we changed all of that.”

A container of some sort was placed over Had’s head, and he could feel the writhing and wriggling of what felt like hundreds of tiny legs. They brushed up against his cheeks, tickled the hair in his nose, crawled over his eyelids and burrowed into his hair. It was like the entire surface of his head was twitching. A sound that was somewhere between a hiss and a rattle echoed through the container, amplified by the small space.

“Those are Madagascar hissing cockroaches,” Preston spoke from somewhere outside the box. “One hundred and fifty of them, all looking for a place where they can lay their eggs.”

Well, the whole thing sounded pretty gross. But Had was pretty sure that the part about the eggs was a lie. And it was no worse than the time his Mama had sat him down on top of a fire-ant colony after she’d found him scorching them with a magnifying glass, laughing at the little bugs as they burst into flame.

You’re bigger’n them, it’s downright mean and it just ain’t fair. So, we’re gonna even up the playin’ field for a minute or two, she’d said, even as all the ants bit him at once. He’d spent the next few hours spreading calamine lotion over all the bumps he’d ended up with.

At least these bugs didn’t bite.

Had wasn’t positive what reaction Preston was looking for, but it was clear that he hadn’t given it yet. And this time was no different.

The container was ripped off of his head, pulling some of his hair along with it. Once again, Preston was muttering under his breath.

“How could he not be afraid of cockroaches? Everyone’s afraid of cockroaches. Maybe I should have gone with spiders…” He moved off, the sound of the hissing from the cockroaches echoing in the large space.

“Preston, what happened to you? What made you like this?”

All of the sudden, Preston was back at his side, his face inches from Had’s. Wow. That had been a little startling. Maybe not scary, but it was getting closer.

“You have no idea what it’s like. To live with someone who hates you just for being there. He would force me to go get honey from the bees without a net.” He stopped for a moment. “Maybe that would work…” He wandered off again.

There were some deep issues there. Had understood fear. He’d been through it way too many times to count. But at least his mama had always been doing it for his own good. Sounded like Preston’s dad didn’t have the same altruistic motivations.

The problem was, Preston had tried so many ways to terrify Had, and not a single one had taken. It was getting pretty pathetic.

He’d somehow managed to mimic thunder and lightning… the lightning had been pretty cool. Next had been the snakes. Then he’d taken Had, bound hand and foot, up to the top of the building and leaned him over the edge. It was night, so all he’d been able to see were some lights in the distance and feel the wind in his face. Pretty nice, actually. There had even been an attempt to scare him with clown dolls all lined up around Had’s chair, grinning at him.

That had been the creepiest thing yet, but even that was nothing compared with the time that Had broke his grandma’s favorite porcelain doll. Mama had him shut up in a closet filled with the glassy-eyed things. Had woke to nightmares for the next three weeks straight. Now if Preston had brought in some of those…

A glow blossomed from the end of the penlight Preston was using. He grabbed Had by the arm and frog-marched him over to a metal box. Looked to be a safe used to lock up tools or something. Preston opened up the door and, without warning, threw Had inside the container, slamming the door on him.

Looked like small, confined spaces were next on the list.

Had squirmed around until he found a comfortable position. He then closed his eyes and prepared to take a nap.

As he drifted off to sleep, Had breathed a prayer of gratitude for a mother who had prepared him for this kind of psychological torture.

At the time, she had probably thought she was preparing her boy for life. There was no way she could have known she was helping him to be able to keep a serial killer distracted until help came.

Well, it was Mama, so maybe she had known. Had wouldn’t put it past her.

CHAPTER 23

Sariah looked over the group gathered in front of the biggest of the buildings. There were a total of six cops in addition to Reggie, which brought the total number of law enforcement to a whopping ten. And she had no idea what to do with any of them.

There were three structures that needed to be searched, and with no idea of how long Had would be held before he was dismembered, every second counted. But she couldn’t move. She could barely speak.

She stood there, staring at the officers as they started to shift from one foot to another. They were getting uncomfortable, and yet Sariah remained stationary.

Finally Joshua stepped in. “Okay, Chance and Jensen, you’re with Agent Cooper in this building. Rogers and Marco, you’re with me, over there. And the last three are going with Reggie, to that last one.” He pointed to the structures that dotted the area, each one at least a couple of hundred yards from the other.

It didn’t sit well with her to split up the group this way, but the decision had been made by someone else. She understood. Speed was vital. Joshua didn’t want Preston to have enough advance warning to be able to do something to Had if the killer had somehow spotted their arrival.

Her cell phone rang. It was Had’s mother. Sariah looked down at her phone blankly. Joshua stepped forward and answered the call, putting it on speaker.

“Joshua Wright.”

“What’s happening? Where’s Agent Cooper? No, screw that. Where’s my boy?” Ms. Hadderly demanded. There was a hum in the background, like the sound of a car at high speeds.

“We’re looking for him now,” he answered, clearly trying to keep her patient. But Sariah understood. If it were her child that had been kidnapped by a homicidal maniac, she would probably have gone ballistic by now.

“What… can you… there’s no… I’m coming…” Ms. Hadderly’s voice was cutting in and out. And then the call dropped completely. Sariah looked down at her phone in Joshua’s hand. One bar, then no bars, then a flicker of a bar. Joshua pulled his own out of his pocket.

“I have no cell reception out here,” Joshua muttered, looking down at his cell. “Anyone else?”

Everyone pulled out their cells, checking their bars and shaking their heads. Marco’s eyes lit up for a moment, but then he shook his head. It looked like no one had any connection, or if they had it, it was only for moments at a time.

“Okay, we’ll just have to rely on radios,” he said, as he checked to make sure every one of the local cops had one. “Make sure you call in if there’s anything strange.” He nodded toward the buildings. “All right. Let’s this thing going. Be careful, everyone.”

Each of the groups headed toward their respective assignments, every head swiveling from left to right, looking for any kind of movement or oddity that might denote the presence of a killer. Sariah moved as if she were in a dream, pulling out her weapon and her flashlight as she moved off in the direction of the entrance.

The building loomed above her, a dark and menacing presence in the night. The doorway was twice as tall and half again as wide as what she was used to, more than likely made to accommodate farm machinery. It made the entry seem like a maw that was gaping wide to swallow them up.

She moved through into the absence of light, trying not to see phantoms behind every odd-shaped protuberance inside. Tractors and combines blended in with other, less identifiable machinery to create a nightmare landscape from which death could leap, unseen and uncaring, to end the lives of those around her.

She watched Officers Chance and Jensen as they started to move away from her. She waved at them to stay close. They needed to find the access to the cellar, which was going to be the most likely area in which to find Preston, but she needed their presence around her. She wasn’t capable. She’d proven that again and again. They might be.

But as she watched the policemen drift into the darkness just ahead of her, she couldn’t help but feel that they were all headed into the depths of some hell from which none of them might return.

* * *

The open area of the warehouse was heavy with the scent of the hay that was present everywhere in huge rectangular bales, much larger than any bales Joshua had ever seen before. They were stacked up high on every side. He wove his way past another monolith of stacked golden straw, doing what he could to keep from sneezing.

No way to clear all the corners in this place. There were corners everywhere. So many nooks and crannies that could hold so many dangers. But there was something here. Some sense of presence that Joshua couldn’t quantify but had felt so many times before, years ago, in another lifetime.

A lifetime that had included family, friends, work, even some play. It had been a good life, much as he didn’t like to remember it that way. He didn’t like to remember it at all. Hard to see past the concrete wall that had been erected by so much heartbreak. So much destruction. So much death.

Officer Marco cleared his throat, which quickly turned into a hacking cough. “Damn hay fever. This is the worst.” He coughed again, hawking up mucus, which he then spat to the side. “I’m going to go check out the other side of this space.”

“Yeah, and I’ll go in the opposite direction. Split up, make better time,” Rogers affirmed.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, guys,” Joshua answered. “It’s way too easy for us to get separated in here.”

Marco snorted, which caused him to cough again, followed by a sneeze. After a second he got it back together.

“What? We’re looking for one guy who doesn’t even know we’re on our way. I think the three of us can handle it. We’ll just yell if we run into any problems.”

“Whatever,” Joshua answered. It didn’t feel right to split up, but it wasn’t like he was really in charge of this group. He was just a consultant, after all. And to keep these cops from doing what they felt was their job on a hunch just felt like too much work.

“If one of us finds a way up or down, we’ll whistle, okay? Or I could caw like a crow.” Rogers said with a grin.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

And the two cops split off, going in the opposite direction from each other. Joshua was left alone, fighting down a growing sense of apprehension. He’d been given a gun for this outing, but it wasn’t the extension of his arm that his own weapon had been, back when he’d been with the BAU. It felt like a mockery, so he shoved it back into the holster that was strapped around his shoulder.

The feeling was coming from something real. He dug a little deeper, looking for the source. Was it really as simple as the fact that he didn’t want to be alone in the dark?

No.

Preston was a trap setter. He’d proved that back in Cedar Rapids. And he had to know that by capturing Had, they would be on his trail eventually. The killer might be many things, but he wasn’t stupid. They had misjudged him on that level more than once.

This guy would be prepared.

Which meant that Joshua had just sent two local and very inexperienced cops their separate ways to deal with threats they had never seen before.

Shit.

“Marco! Rogers! Come back!” Joshua called out, trying to stay as quiet as he could while still making himself heard. No sound came back but the muffled silence of a warehouse full of hay.

There was a metallic snick, followed by what sounded like a wet gurgle. It was coming from the direction that Marco had gone.

Joshua swore, running as fast as he could in that direction. He was going fast enough that he almost tripped over an obstacle that was in his path. A soft, yielding surface gave against the pressure of his foot, causing him to whip his flashlight down to shine directly into Marco’s face. But it was what was just below that face that was the problem.

His throat had been slit to the point that the head was nearly severed from the spine, and blood was still pouring from the wound, which looked like nothing more than a lipless second mouth gaping where his Adam’s apple should be.

Shining the light close to the floor, Joshua spotted a trip wire. It was just inches above the floor, but appeared to have been triggered by Marco.

Above, there was what looked to be a broken blade off of a combine that had been attached to a rope and pulley system. The ropes were probably there to help move the huge bales of hay. When Marks tripped the wire, it had released the blade, where it sliced through the cop’s throat like it was a hunk of Havarti cheese.

This killer had stayed a step ahead of them the entire time. He lulled them into a false sense of security, then set a bomb to take out their team. Kidnapping Had to bring them here, where he was clearly prepared for them arriving.

That meant the other teams were in danger as well.

A change in air pressure or some extra sense warned Joshua. He leapt to the side just as one of the huge bales of hay fell from overhead. As it fell, its outer edge caught him in the ribcage just below his left arm. Luckily, the momentum from his jump pushed him away from the deadly weight of the falling hay. It landed right where he had been standing, crushing Marco’s body beneath its weight.

Joshua fell hard, his left side on fire with every inhalation he took. He might have broken a rib or two. Probing with gentle fingers, he explored the wound. The bale had struck him right where his gun was strapped, pushing the handle of the weapon into his side. As far as he could tell there was no protruding bone, and his breath didn’t feel wet in his lungs. The likelihood of a punctured lung was small. He hoped.

But the pain was excruciating. Just moving his head to look around, the pain receptors in his brain lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Once more, Preston had gotten the jump on him. This young asshole of a stoner kid was outthinking him at every step, and it was pissing Joshua off in a way that he hadn’t been pissed off in a long, long time.

He had to warn Officer Rogers. If this trap had been here waiting for them, with another layered on top of it to take out anyone that came to help, Rogers was in serious danger. Joshua glanced at the bale of hay. Officer Marco’s body was trapped underneath. As bad as that was, the policeman as already dead. The real problem with the bale was that Marco’s radio was now stuck beneath two thousand pounds of hay.

But right now, Joshua was having a hard time inhaling deep enough to get the oxygen he needed, much less call out across an entire warehouse with tons of hay to muffle the sound.

Didn’t matter. It had to be done. Not only did Rogers need to be warned, but he also had the only other radio. Joshua needed it to get a hold of Reggie and Agent Cooper.

He pushed himself upright, using his right arm as much as possible. The pain lanced through his side, taking away what breath he had and causing stars to dance in front of his eyes.

Well, it wasn’t going to get any better by waiting. Joshua began to inhale, when there was a dull thud that shook the building, resonating in his chest. An explosion, one partially dampened by the surrounding hay.

Shit.

Rogers had tripped another trap. That was the most likely scenario. That not only meant that another officer was down, but they had most likely lost their only remaining access to a radio. Joshua pulled his cell phone out, hoping against hope.

No reception.

He rotated, pinpointing the direction from which the detonation had originated. But as he began moving toward the source, almost praying in his desperation that something would be left of the other officer, he saw an orange glow that was beginning to grow on the other side of the building.

The hay was on fire.

* * *

Things had not gone any better for Preston. Had almost felt bad for him. Except for the part where Preston was trying to terrify him before separating him limb from limb, that was. Hard to sympathize with the guy that was going to kill you.

The containment box had not turned out all that well. Not only was Had not afraid of enclosed spaces in the slightest, but he’d managed to recover a good portion of his strength with a lovely power nap. Good to be well rested. It helped to prepare you for the psychological torture to follow.

Right now, Preston was stalking back and forth in front of Had, who was back in the chair, tied hand and foot again. Every once in a while, Preston would glare at him, as if to tell what might get through his thick skin and worm a scare or two out of him. Had was almost ready to just fake it. But he wasn’t sure how fast Preston’s endgame would follow if he thought that Had was afraid. It felt like that might be the only thing that was keeping him alive at this point.

“How the hell are you doing this?” Preston yelled suddenly, stopping in front of Had and jabbing his index finger at Had’s pecs. “There has to be something… something that frightens you.”

Had thought about it. There was plenty he was frightened of, but every single one of those things had one thing in common.

Mama.

Without her, the whole thing just fell apart. There wasn’t anything a weasely gas station attendant could muster that would even come close to the kind of hell that Mama could rain down when she got her dander up.

And it wasn’t like she was abusive. She was just creative. There was this thing that she called “natural consequences” that were anything but natural. Only Mama could make standing outside naked on the curb while cars passed by and people pointed a natural consequence. Once for making out with his girlfriend in the backseat of the family car, she’d made him hold up a sign that read, “I like to get nekkid in public places.” She’d insisted on the spelling of “nekkid”.

The punishment itself wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was when Mama got all quiet and disappointed. That was the danger point. He could always tell when it was really bad. The yelling stopped.

“I do understand, you know,” Had told him.

Preston turned to face him. “What are you talking about?” There was an odd tone to his voice. Hopeful? Disbelieving? Had couldn’t tell.

“The reason you can’t scare me is because of my mother.”

The killer’s face went soft, almost blank. “She… she hurt you?”

“Sometimes,” Had admitted. “We’re the same in that way. But the thing is… we’re still really different.”

“No, we’re not,” Preston answered back, that same tone coloring his voice even more. “You’re just like me. Our parents hurt us. They taught us fear.”

“Yeah, but here’s the thing,” Had continued, knowing what this would do to his friend, but knowing he had to do it anyway. “I know my mother loves me. Can you say the same about your dad?”

Preston’s face twisted up, and he turned away from Had as his shoulders shook. He was crying, his body racked with silent sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Preston.”

And then, Had’s friend got quiet. He slowly straightened up his back, rolling his shoulders as if to get rid of tension there. When he faced Had once more, he was composed, his face hard.

It was clear that Preston was very angry.

“Well, it’s not the same, but maybe I just need to be more direct here,” Preston said, wrinkling his nose in apparent disdain. “Take off a couple of fingers and then maybe we can change your views on humanity… And parenting.”

Well, now things had taken a turn for the worse. Had was pretty sure that he could deal with the pain… he’d had plenty of accidents as a kid, and even as a younger man. But losing fingers and limbs meant no more work with the BAU. No more police work. No more work at all, at least not for the kinds of things that Had was good at.

He had no desire to lose any appendages.

This was a tight spot. If he faked fear of something, he could be hastening his own death. But if he didn’t, he would start losing little bits of himself. Before he was killed. Which made it that much more uncomfortable.

“Preston, I know you’re hurting, man. But you don’t have to do this.” Had pleaded, hoping against hope to get through to him.

For a moment, Had thought that Preston would just ignore him. But then he began speaking in an undertone, almost too quiet to hear at first.

“People need to know how fear feels. They think they do, but they don’t. I look around at the flat faces around me, and they don’t know terror.” As Preston spoke, his voice got louder and louder. As he finished, it was almost a scream. “I’m here to teach them.”

He looked into Had’s eyes. His voice dropped back down to a whisper.

“I’m here to teach you.”

Okay, that was a little scary. Maybe not Mama level, but he was getting there.

The tension between them extended into what felt like an eternal moment, when all of the sudden there was an explosion that sounded from above. Preston’s eyes darted up toward the ceiling as dust filtered down through the beam of his penlight that he pointed up above his head.

Preston snatched up a roll of duct tape, ripped off a length and slapped it across Had’s mouth. “Looks like we have some company. You sit tight. I’ve got a couple of your friends to chop up.”

Thrashing about in his chair and straining against his bonds, Had screamed at the top of his lungs, but the sound died a couple of feet out. There was nothing he could do to warn his friends as the killer stalked off to confront them. It may or may not have been on purpose, but Preston had finally succeeded.

Had was now terrified.

CHAPTER 24

The farming equipment that was housed all around Sariah and the two local cops loomed over them and lurked, ready to pounce on them in equal measures. Their flashlights only lit sections of the giant pieces of machinery, giving them glimpses of chipped paint, metal and chrome that accentuated the oppressive atmosphere. It felt as if the machinery was there to trap them within the building, or possibly to tear them to shreds when they least expected it.

The building smelt of oil, diesel fuel and mulch. It was a combination that would have caused the dark to take on an almost homey personality, except that it was juxtaposed with the task they had ahead of them.

Sariah peered through the darkness, shining her flashlight ahead of her. There was a door on the far wall that looked promising. It might be the entrance to the staircases leading up and down. The chance that Preston was holed up underground seemed the most logical assumption, but she was doubting every single one of her decisions. Even still, as they neared the doorway, Sariah felt her pace increasing.

And then her cell rang.

Another mistake. She should have turned the phone off, except that she had assumed there wasn’t enough reception to receive a call. She pulled out the phone.

It was Ms. Hadderly again.

She waved the two cops ahead of her as she answered. If it had been anyone other than Had’s mom, there’s no way she would have bothered doing so in the midst of a search like this. But she after everything that she’d done to cause this situation in the first place, she couldn’t avoid it.

“Did you hang up on me before, Ms. Fancy-Pants FBI Agent?”

“No, Ms. Hadderly,” Sariah answered, trying to keep her emotions in check. “We just don’t have any reception out here.”

“Right,” the woman answered with a bite in her tone. “That’s what my son says when he doesn’t want to talk to me. And if you can’t get any reception, then why are you talkin’ to me right now?”

“Ms. Hadderly, I didn’t want you to worry even more. We’re right in the middle of a search to find your son’s captor.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me, you… I’m getting… on my…” And once more, the call cut out. She fought down the tears that wanted to resurface, hardening her resolve. If she couldn’t do it for herself, maybe she could do it for a scared mother.

She tucked the phone back into her pants pocket, and started to call out to the officers ahead of her, when she noticed a discoloration on the floor where Officers Chance and Jensen were walking. What was that?

And then the cops weren’t there, and in their place was a gaping hole in the ground. She rushed to the edge, kneeling at the lip and shining her light down into the pit. When she saw what was down there, she wished she hadn’t.

Broken blades, shards of unidentifiable metal and rebar pointed up toward her. The two officers were sprawled amongst the protruding spikes, looking almost like they were resting. One of the pieces of rebar had thrust through Officer Chance’s neck, its bloody end pointing up at Sariah like an accusation.

She felt the contents of her stomach surging up, seeking to follow the officers down to the bottom of the pit. After a deep breath and a moment of focus, the nausea subsided, and Sariah realized that if it hadn’t been for the call, she would be down there with a spike through the back of her head like Jensen. At this very moment, she couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

She felt a whiff of air above her and flattened herself on the ground as a huge blade swung down, slicing through the air. Its arc passed though where her head would have been if she’d been standing at the edge of the pit. The fact that she had decided to kneel had saved her life. She’d ruminate on the symbolism in that at another time.

Right now, she had a serial killer to attend to.

* * *

Joshua pulled a corner of his shirt up and placed it over his mouth, doing what he could to filter out the smoke. There was nothing he could do for the heat.

An inferno raged around him as the dry alfalfa hay around him acted as super tinder, catching flame with the smallest of sparks. He had searched for a door as he had to dodge the ever-increasing amount of flame and smoke that was filling up the building.

At least he didn’t have to worry about a light source any longer. Not that the visibility was much better with the haze that was getting lower and lower. Joshua crouched down as he ran, doing what he could to keep out of the toxic fumes.

And then he found it. A door, leading out of the nightmare raging around him. He grabbed a hold of the handle and went to open it. Locked.

Desperate to get out of the blistering heat, Joshua looked around him for something he could use to break his way through the door. All around him, embers blew about in the wind caused by the rapid change in temperature, each spark carrying with it another competing blaze.

The flames flickered with an intensity and randomness that caused reality to warp. Distances became indistinct and shapes wavered in the heat, but as Joshua continued to scan the space around him, he spotted an area just beyond a stack of burning hay bales. It was a place that was relatively free of the fires that raged almost everywhere at this point. And in its center was an enormous tractor with a hay baler behind it.

Maybe he could jump start the tractor and ram the vehicle into the door. It felt like a long shot, but it was the only option he could see working right now. He certainly couldn’t break the door down himself, considering the shape of his ribcage right now.

A change in air pressure alerted him. Joshua spun around, seeing that the door was now open. And coming forth from the darkness beyond was Preston. He carried a gun in one hand and what looked like a heavy metal pipe in the other.

“Hey there, Joshua,” Preston called out, his tone mocking. “Congrats, dude. You made it past my welcome mat.” He held the gun leveled at Joshua’s head.

“What can I say? I’m a resilient bastard,” Joshua replied, cursing himself. Why didn’t he have his weapon out? His feelings of awkwardness with a new gun had caused him to holster it, and now there was no way he could pull his weapon before Preston shot him through the head. Besides the fact that Joshua wasn’t sure his ribs would allow him to get it out at all.

“’Scuse me,” Preston said, as he moved closer.

He reached his hand around Joshua’s side for the holster, his own gun trained on Joshua’s head the entire time. As Preston slipped the Glock free, Joshua couldn’t help but release a hiss of pain as the movement bit into his broken ribs. Preston took a step back, grinning.

“Oh, hey. You didn’t get out without some damage, did you? Well, this is going to be fun.”

Joshua knew he only had one chance. So, gritting his teeth against the pain he knew would come, he delivered a quick snap kick to Preston’s hand, knocking the gun away. The weapon flew through the air, disappearing into the flickering light and shadow of the blaze that surrounded them.

But even as his kick accomplished what he wanted, Joshua had to watch, helpless, as Preston swung the pipe around, connecting with Joshua’s side. The breath whooshed out of his lungs, the pain causing lights to dance in front of his eyes.

Sweat dripped down Joshua’s neck as he struggled to maintain consciousness. He blocked the next swing of the pipe with his forearm, feeling the bones snap under the impact. And then time slowed as he watched the pipe come back around in a deadly arc toward his head. There was nothing he could do but watch.

The blackness reached up to swallow him whole. Its embrace was dark and cool, like a subterranean pool, a blissful release from the pain and heat. Joshua sank down, glad that he wouldn’t have to be awake for what came next.

* * *

Had felt, more than heard, the door open once more. Preston was back. Did that mean that Had’s friends were all dead? That couldn’t be the case. They were so much smarter and better than Had. He might get duped by a killer, but they weren’t so gullible.

But when a light from a flashlight glared, it wasn’t Preston’s face he saw. It was Coop. Had was pretty sure he’d never been happier to see anyone in his life.

“Had!” she exclaimed, coming over to his side and ripping the duct tape off. Had barely noticed the pain, he was so relieved. But then he looked more closely. She looked like she’d had the will to live beaten out of her. More than once.

“Coop,” he answered, looking around. “Where’s everyone else?”

The BAU agent moved to start removing Had’s bindings. “I’m not sure. Chance and Jensen are both down, and I’m pretty sure Preston left traps in all of the buildings.”

“How did you find me?”

“I didn’t,” she replied, pulling off the ropes that had bound his legs and ankles. She was more tentative in her movements than he’d ever seen her be before, but he didn’t take much time to think about it. He felt the blood rush back, causing prickles to travel up and down his legs as she continued talking. “I’m pretty sure I was in the wrong building, but all of the cellars seem to be connected. It’s like a maze down here.”

“I think Preston went upstairs,” he said, working his feet back and forth to try to get the feeling back. “There was an explosion.”

Agent Cooper’s mouth became a straight line at that news, as she struggled with the knots to the bindings on his arms. “Let’s get you loose, then we’ll have to deal with Preston.”

“Coop, I’m sorry,” Had blurted. He felt a pricking at the backs of his eyes as he struggled to contain his emotion. “You’re in danger because I was careless.”

“No.” She stopped working on the ropes for a moment and looked him dead in the eye. “We’re all in danger because of me. I wouldn’t listen. Not to Joshua, not to you.”

“That’s not—”

But Coop cut him off with a sharp hand gesture. And then his bindings were off, and it was time to hunt down the hunter. Things were bad; Had knew that. But seeing Coop had taken away most of his fear, even if she wasn’t completely herself.

Now all he wanted to do was take Preston down.

* * *

Joshua woke to vibrations underneath him and the cool night air blowing through his hair. Wait. His eyes shot open.

Cool night air? Vibrations? What the hell?

His hands were tied in front of him. There was nothing but endless stars above him, which were blotted out abruptly as Preston’s head intruded on his view.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he yelled over the rumbling sound that was all around them. “Fantastic! Wouldn’t want to do this while you were unconscious.”

Glancing around, Joshua saw that they were atop the large rectangular hay baler that was moving at a slow pace across an open field. The tractor was unmanned, and Joshua guessed that Preston must have thrown him up here, then put the vehicle in gear, smashing out of the burning warehouse they’d been trapped inside.

“You know, it’s funny,” Preston chattered away. “You were the one that gave me the idea. There you were, staring at the tractor when I came out. And it’s just about perfect, don’t you think?”

Joshua watched as Preston waved his gun around as he gestured. He must’ve found the weapon back in the warehouse once he’d knocked Joshua out.

Preston stared down at Joshua, his eyes nothing but dark shadows in the moonlit night. “This is the closest thing I could come to a wood chipper out here. A fitting death for you, doncha think?” He gestured down at the machine beneath them.

Joshua glanced behind him. There was an opening in the baler, through which he could see the hay being compressed underneath them. Preston meant to toss him inside.

“Hey…” Preston stopped, seeming to make a realization. “Ha! Hay, get it?” he glanced down at Joshua, seeing his expression. “Oh, come on. It’s the best I could do on short notice,” he said, grinning. “Man, it’s been a fun ride, hasn’t it? And don’t worry. I’ve got plans for your friends, too. You’re not going out alone.”

The mention of Had and Coop did something to Joshua. A pain, completely separate from his broken ribs, spread through his entire being. His façade of nonchalance was breaking away in tatters.

The thought of harm coming to those two filled Joshua with a burning rage, deep in the core of his being. He could not let that happen. Would not.

But even as the anger cleared away the last cobwebs of his unconsciousness, it caused him to back up and calculate. There wouldn’t be much more than one shot at this, and there might not even be that.

To buy time to look for that opening, Joshua baited Preston. “So, you’re not Humpty. Just a cheap knock off.”

It was immediately clear that Joshua had hit pay dirt. “Knock off?” Preston growled. “I took what that bastard taught me and improved on it.”

His words hit Joshua with a force greater than the pipe had delivered. “Hold on. You know Humpty?”

“Of course,” the killer shrugged, his movements casual. “How do you think I knew how to get under your skin so well?” He peered into Joshua’s face. “And I did, didn’t I?”

“But you…” Joshua’s voice trailed off. His brain was short-circuiting as he tried to put together all of the pieces of the puzzle.

“Yeah. That was the most fun part of it. Knowing that you thought I was him.” Preston smirked. “He taught me all he knew, that mean asswipe. But I took what he had and improved on it.”

What Joshua had intended as a distraction for the killer ended up being a distraction for him. There was information here that they needed. Information that meant that taking Preston in alive had become even more of a priority. Joshua needed an opening now more than ever.

“If by improved, you mean dumbed down and turned into a made-for-Lifetime movie of the week, then yeah, I would have to agree with you.” Joshua braced, knowing what was coming next.

And sure enough, Preston didn’t disappoint. He reared back with his foot, connecting with Joshua’s left side with a savagery that left Joshua clinging to consciousness. But it also left Preston unstable. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Joshua rolled, catching Preston’s legs and sending him sprawling, almost sending him over the edge of the baler.

Joshua tried to push him over the edge, looking to get off of the deadly machine, but his body betrayed him. Pain shot through his side, crippling him.

Preston pulled himself out from under Joshua, rabbit punching him in the side, each blow a punctuation for his words. “You. Are. Old. Washed up.” He stood finally, pointing the gun at Joshua’s head. “And now you’re finished. Maybe I’ll just shoot you in the stomach so you’ll still feel it when you go through the baler.”

A shot rang out, but it wasn’t from Preston’s gun. A police cruiser had come up beside the tractor, its passenger-side window open. Agent Cooper was hanging out of it, pointing her weapon up at the baler.

A shoulder shot to this bastard would be really helpful right about now, but Joshua had to keep her from killing him. They might be moving slowly, but there was no way she could aim well enough in a moving vehicle at the best of times. And Joshua was pretty sure this wasn’t the best of times for her. Doing his best to ignore the pain it caused, he pushed himself up to a kneeling position, putting himself enough in the line of fire that he knew Coop would stop shooting. It seemed to work, as the firing stopped. The cruiser raced up ahead.

But now there was nothing to hold Preston back. He reigned blows down on Joshua, forcing him ever closer to the gaping hole in the top of the baler.

“You like my modifications, Joshua?” Preston panted. “I took off all of the safety features. Nothing to stand between you and the baler.” He kicked out at Joshua’s head, catching him just under the jaw. Joshua fell back, managing to twist away from the opening at the last moment. As he did so, he felt something pop inside of him, and new pain blossomed, a dark flower that spread through his torso.

And suddenly, the tractor stopped. Peering forward in the darkness, lit only by a half-moon, Joshua could see Coop at the wheel. She must have jumped from the car.

“No!” Preston screamed, leveling the gun at Agent Cooper.

There was nothing Joshua could do. He was too far away. But just as Preston went to squeeze the trigger, a blonde blur shot past, latching itself onto the killer’s ankle.

It was Bella.

Preston swore and lashed out with his foot, flinging the puppy away from him. He then turned the gun on her and fired.

Bella screamed once, an unnatural sound that shot through the air, bludgeoning Joshua, the sound a sledgehammer to his soul. Time shattered into tiny fragments, moving forward in increments of ever diminishing duration.

This man was the key to finding his family’s killer. This man had just shot Bella, who had risked her life to spare his and Coop’s.

It wasn’t even a decision any more. He scooted forward, ignoring the pain, and hooked a foot behind Preston’s knees, forcing them to buckle. Preston pitched forward toward Joshua.

Using all of his remaining strength, Joshua rolled to the side, grabbing Preston’s shirt and twisting him down toward the opening at the top of the baler. The torque from the movement pulled at Joshua’s ribs, and agony exploded outward, but he kept the pressure on.

Preston slid around sideways, his left leg catching in the mechanism. He screamed as his leg was shattered into a million pieces by the compression within.

“Please, help me!” he cried out, his voice hoarse with pain.

Joshua just watched.

The killer reached his hand out, trying to grab for something, anything. But there was nothing there. He’d gotten rid of all of that.

“Think about this,” he panted. “Without me, you can’t find the man who killed your family.”

Once more, that gave Joshua pause. He glanced to where Bella was huddled. Preston’s death wouldn’t bring her back. And it could bring closure to him and a lot of others. Maybe that was more important.

Preston’s body slipped down into the machine even farther, and blood spurted up and out of his mouth, spattering against the side of the baler.

Joshua moved toward the opening, grabbing the attendant’s hand. Pain shot through his side, hampering his efforts to pull Preston to safety.

But then Had was there, and they were pulling together, each one attached to one of the killer’s arms. They pulled hard, harder, fighting the suction of the hay baler.

And suddenly, Preston came free.

Well, part of him did.

Like a grotesque mockery of the earlier crime scenes he’d created, Preston’s severed torso flopped onto the upper surface of the hay baler, bathing the old paint in new, glistening red.

He was beyond dead.

Joshua swore. “He was our chance to find Humpty.”

“Oh,” Had answered. “That’s why you were saving him. I didn’t know.”

“What?” Joshua did a double take. “Then why did you try to pull him out?”

“Because you were doing it,” he answered simply. “And it looked like you needed some help.”

There it was. It was Had to a T. Helping just because someone needed the help. No other reason. No need to explain the whole thing. Just there to give a hand.

And then, as the adrenaline rush faded, Joshua felt himself drifting into blackness, and hoped as he faded out that Had would be there to help him once more.

Somehow, Joshua had a feeling that he would.

* * *

Sariah walked toward the ambulance, watching as the paramedics finished up with Joshua. Bella was bandaged up. Joshua had forced the paramedics to treat her first. It turned out, the bullet went through her haunch, and the shock of the impact had knocked the puppy out. She wiggled in his arms, and would thrust her face up into his from time to time, licking his nose with vigor.

They had been lucky. She could recognize that. But the faces of the dead kept intruding, superimposing themselves on the faces of those who had survived. They were all dead because of her. Tears threatened again, and she turned her thoughts to the positive. Or at least she tried.

Not only had the entire third team that Reggie was with escaped unscathed, but also none of Joshua’s injuries had been too serious. Although Sariah wasn’t so sure he would feel that way about it. He was going to be in a lot of pain for the next few weeks.

Had, on the other hand, had come out of his kidnapping experience with nothing more than some light chafing on his wrists where the rope had been tied too tight. He seemed even more chipper than usual, and was there, right at Joshua’s side. It appeared that he was dividing his time between telling Joshua all about what had happened during his capture, and asking the paramedics what they liked best about their jobs.

The most miraculous part of the scenario was that Joshua didn’t look annoyed. Not only did he not appear irritated, he seemed to be enjoying himself, laughing and then wincing at something Had just said. If Sariah hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have believed.

Just as she was coming up close to the two men, a taxicab pulled up. Before the vehicle even came to a complete stop, the back door swung open and a tiny woman leapt out, rushing straight for them.

“Kyle, sweetie, you’re okay,” she gushed as she pulled Had into a bear hug. How a woman that size managed anything close to a bear hug was beyond Sariah, but she couldn’t deny the evidence of her eyes.

“Ms. Hadderly,” she said. “How—?”

Had’s mother pulled away from her son with obvious reluctance, and turned her gaze on Sariah. It was in that moment that Sariah remembered her last almost-conversation with the woman in front of her. All of the sudden she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be here.

“You must be Special Agent Cooper,” she said, looking her up and down. “You’re a lot prettier than your voice sounds on the phone. Not that I had much of a chance to find out…” She glared at Sariah, moving in to face off with her. How did such a tiny woman manage to be so damn intimidating?

“Right,” Sariah said. “About that…”

And then Ms. Hadderly’s face broke out in a smile. “Aw, honey, I’m just yankin’ your chain.” She reached out and drew Sariah in for a squeeze. “My boy’s all right, the killer’s dead, and I brought a picnic. Far as I’m concerned, it’s all good.”

“It wasn’t Humpty,” Joshua spoke up, then winced. “But they had met.”

“Oh, you must be Joshua,” Had’s mother gushed. “I’ve heard all about you. And you need to stop being such a grumble-puss all the time. This killer’s dead. The other one can just wait a spell.”

“Did you say picnic?” Had asked, his face hopeful.

“Oh, right. I’ve got it all there in the cab. Hold on, sugar.” She shuffled back to the taxi and started pulling out bag after bag. “I brought all of your favorites and then some. I got collard greens and baked beans and cornbread and some brisket…” Her description continued as she unloaded the equivalent of a busy restaurant on a weekend out of the back of the car.

It seemed only moments before a feast was spread out on a huge homemade quilt, and everyone there, including the paramedics, were busy chowing down on the finest southern meal Sariah had ever seen. The woman had somehow even managed to produce a pitcher of lemonade. Impossible. She’d have to talk to her about how she’d managed to get that past security at the airport.

“But how did you get here so fast?” Joshua asked, moving his face away from another of Bella’s demonstrations of love.

“Oh, honey, I started movin’ the second my boy stopped answerin’ his phone. He may not talk to me as much as he should, but he knows better than to screen my calls.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, waving off her explanation. “But how did you know we were out here?”

“Sugar, please.” She pulled herself up, offended. “If you can’t figure that out, you ain’t much of a federal agent.”

That echo of Sariah and Joshua’s earlier argument almost pulled a smile from her. Almost.

The most shocking part of the meal, though, was the fact that Joshua stayed there in the midst, eating some of everything he could put his hands on. And he was smiling. Well, nearly. It was what Sariah imagined passed for a smile with the former agent.

And Reggie was right there as well, looking more a part of the team than Sariah herself. Maybe that was something that she should make official. They had certainly benefitted from her presence, and now that it was clear that Humpty was still out there and active, they could use her help.

As Sariah looked over the group, she was overwhelmed with how much they looked like a family. They fit together. As distinct and separate as they all were, they belonged.

And she did not.

She turned to find a darker corner where she could deal with her feelings alone. There was no need to impose her negativity on the celebration that was happening around her. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

A hand rested on her shoulder. Sariah turned around, expecting to see Had, or maybe Reggie.

It was Joshua.

He was holding Bella still, and the puppy tried to sit up when she saw Sariah, her tail wagging. Sariah reached out to scratch her ears, but Bella attacked the hand with her tongue before she got there.

“What is it, Joshua? I kind of wanted—”

“Shut up, Coop,” he cut her off. “Shut up and come eat some food.”

“But I—”

“I said, shut up. You’re part of this, whether you feel like it or not. Whether you admit it or not. You are sitting down with us, and you are eating this amazing food.” He stared at her for a long moment. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you earned this.”

He grabbed her by the arm, even though she could see it was painful for him, and dragged her over to the inner circle, pushing people aside to make room for her as Had shoved a plate overflowing with food at her.

What else could she do?

She sat down and broke bread with her new family.

* * *

Another airport after another flight in another airplane that looked just like every other airplane in the US. Man, Joshua hated to travel.

But at least having Bella with him made it more interesting. Two different flight attendants had given him their number on cocktail napkins. The puppy was like a magnet.

Bella hadn’t left his arms since the paramedics had placed her there two days ago. Made showering a bit awkward, but at least it kept her clean.

Reggie was with them. It had taken some serious talking on their parts to get her boss to part with her, but when she asked if he would put her on full-time status, all of the sudden his arguments evaporated. She looked over at him, possibly having felt his gaze, and smiled. That was a dazzling smile. One of which he was going to have to be wary.

Once more, Had was off talking to a newly acquired friend from the flight. Agent Cooper was standing by herself, watching the interaction with a look that someone else might have thought was wistful.

But Joshua knew better.

They were back in DC, and in a few minutes Bilal would be picking them up to take them back to Quantico. It was time to start back up on the search for the real Humpty Dumpty killer.

But what Coop, Had and Reggie didn’t know was that Joshua had a side trip he had to take first. He approached the agent, watching her come back to herself as she felt his presence nearing.

“How’s the ribs?”

“Still broken,” Joshua replied.

“Yeah, I guess so.” And as if he had just accused her of breaking them herself, she dropped her gaze to the ground.

“Hey,” Joshua said, bending down to catch her eye. Wow. That was painful. He reminded himself not to try that move again. “You’ve got to stop this.”

She said nothing for a bit, and then gave him what looked like a grimace. It might have been meant as a smile.

“I did everything right, Joshua. Everything.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I know. Look, last time I said this, I was yelling at you, but let me try it again. Sometimes you do everything right, and it still goes to shit.”

“But that’s—” she began.

“Life,” he finished for her. “It’s just life. Sometimes it sucks.”

She nodded once, looking out over his head, her gaze unfocused. “I get that.”

“Not sure you do,” he said. “But you will. Listen,” Joshua changed tracks, “I’m not coming in to Quantico with you right this second.”

Her attention returned to his face, her eyes questioning. “Oh?”

“I’ve got… Well, I’ve got some things I need to take care of.”

There was another long pause, in which Coop seemed to be trying to read his soul. He shifted from one foot to the other.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I trust you.” She turned to walk away, but then added one more thing. “Besides, you’ve still got that monitor on.”

True enough. Joshua watched as Bilal pulled up to the curb and his three teammates piled into the cab. He would see them soon enough.

Right now, he had an appointment with his family.

His family, and a nasty old man.

EPILOGUE

Sariah stared at the front door.

She’d been standing there for what felt like an hour, moving closer, then changing her mind and coming back to stand in the shade of the oak tree out in front of the modest home. It was one of those manufactured houses, in an area that had nothing but manufactured houses.

After months of agonizing and obsessing, Sariah had found out more than she’d ever wanted to know about Curtis Howse and his family. Part of the story that had started to come out was just why it was that he had acted so guilty.

Curtis had a secret. It was the reason he’d killed himself rather than have his family invaded. It was the reason that, even though truckers made pretty good money, his home was modest.

The trucker had spent his time and money on helping illegal immigrants escape from immigration. He would pick up families that were about to be deported, skipping or only taking small parts of lucrative hauls in order to carry those looking to stay in the US.

The house of cards had come tumbling down after he died. He’d made bribes and faked manifests, all to get around the weigh stations. But with his death had come questions, and the puzzle had started to come together for those who had been keeping an eye on him for a while. It hadn’t taken long for Sariah to get them to open up about it.

The man had done it all for the love of his Latina wife. From what Sariah could tell, it was her family that had needed his help first, and what had started him on his crusade. Thirteen years ago.

And now, here she was, trying to force herself to talk to Curtis’ widow. She couldn’t imagine that the meeting would go well, but she owed it to the woman. Curtis was dead because of her.

It was time to pay the piper.

Sariah took one last deep breath, walked toward the door and rang the doorbell before she gave herself time to rethink. She heard footsteps approach the entryway, the tread light.

The door opened, and there before her was Lupe Howse, widow of the late Curtis. Her eyes widened in recognition.

“Agent Cooper? I’m so glad you’re here. Hold on a moment.” She shuffled off down the hallway, disappearing for a moment around the corner.

Sariah had no idea what to make of this. Was Lupe going for a gun? It wasn’t that much of a stretch, and Sariah wouldn’t blame her if she did. But her attitude upon seeing the agent on her doorstep hadn’t been adversarial.

And then she was back, with a package in her hands. “This has been waiting for you,” she said, and placed the box in Sariah’s trembling hands. She then nodded and closed the door, and Sariah listened as the footsteps retreated.

She looked down at the box in her hands, a feeling of dread spreading through her body. The box had lost some of its integrity and was soft and moist in Sariah’s grip.

Grasping the edge of one of the pieces of tape used to secure the package, Sariah began to open it, somehow knowing what she would see before she got the lid open. It felt like an out-of-body experience, or like watching a car accident happen right in front of you. She wanted to look away, but could not.

With fingers shaking, Sariah lifted the edges of the lid, pushing aside the Styrofoam peanuts that had been used to keep the contents from damage. A glistening piece of plastic surfaced, and she scooped out the remainder of the packing materials, looking to catch a glimpse of what was contained underneath.

And then it was clear what she held in her hands. The blood drained out of her face, and her arms shook to the point that she almost could not keep the box in her arms.

There, staring out at her from the package, was a human head.

Afterword

Thank you very much for taking this ride with Joshua, Coop and Had. Hopefully you enjoyed reading about their case as much as we enjoyed writing it. Be on the lookout for All Fall Down, which should be out March 2014.

If you did enjoy Humpty Dumpty, we'd love to ask you a favor and go back to Amazon and leave a review. We indie authors live and die by our reviews!

We’d also like to enlist your help. If you find any, and we mean any typos, spelling errors or anything funky, please contact us directly at authorbenhopkin@gmail.com. Even though this book has gone through a gazillion edits, we are all only human and your input is greatly appreciated!

From time to time, we may add short stories to our novels. There is a new, easy and exciting way to update your collection. Go do it now so that you are ready for any updates whenever they appear…

It is super simple, Sign into your account on Amazon.com then hit the “Your Account” button. Now hit “Manage My Kindle” (even if you don't have a Kindle this will update your preferences on your Kindle app). A new banner should read “Learn more about Auto-updates” Click on this link. It will take you to a window where you can opt into auto-updates. If you opt in, that means the day a collection is updated, it will whispersync to your Kindle or app automatically! Voila!

You can read away. Once you opt in for auto-updates, you can just sit back and relax while you wait for the next book to upload. How awesome is that?

Want to know the exact moment anything of mine that is new goes live?

Sign up for updates from amazon.com itself on my author's page (if you go there, could you hit the “like” button as well? Thanks!)… Click on the "Stay Up to Date" link

Looking for other great mysteries? Be on the watch for 3rd Body, the first novel in the next trilogy of the Darc Murders Series, it should be out mid 2014. Can't wait until then? Check out the next section for more mystery/thrillers from Carolyn and Ben!

Other Works by Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin

The Nursery Rhyme Murders Collection

Praise for The Nursery Rhyme Murders Collection...

"Come for the murder, stay for the three-dimensional, realistically fractured characters! … Long plane rides and rainy Saturday afternoons were made for books like this. If you like your suspense with a side of gruesome and a dash of humor, this is it."

Brandon Stanley

Amazon Reviewer

"Humpty Dumpty is a wonderful start to what I hope will be the first in a fun and thrilling series. I found myself flipping the pages to get to the end and what an ending. The story was well written and the dialogue was sharp, witty and fast-paced. The chemistry between the main characters, Joshua, Had and Cooper was magical… Eagerly awaiting the next installment in this series.”

Romano Robusto

Amazon Reviewer

“Another good crime scene series from one of my favorites. Once again Carolyn McCray has brought together an interesting cast of characters. Each member of the team has flaws, just like real people. The concept of using nursery rhymes as a theme for murder gives the story a creepy edge. The plot twists will keep you guessing.”

J. Duarte

Amazon Reviewer

The collection includes…

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary
the prequel short story to The Nursery Rhyme Murders Series

Humpty Dumpty
the greatly anticipated full-length novel

Old Woman in a Shoe*exclusive to the collection
the fascinating short story follow up to Humpty Dumpty

All Fall Down (will be added to the collection March 2014)

the rousing continuation of the Nursery Rhyme Murders Collection

Eennie Meanie Moe (will be added EXCLUSIVELY to the collection March 2014)

the bridge short story following All Fall Down

More praise for McCray and Hopkin’s mystery/thrillers…

“I am a big fan of this author’s novels… So, I have been excited and waiting a long time for this story… I was not disappointed and continued to read every single page all the way to an ending that was unbelievable, made me feel a little sick, and left me just as speechless as Agent Sariah Cooper… I have never read an ending to a book like this ever and it’s a vision that will be with me for quite a while.”

Robin Lee

Amazon Reviewer

"For me, a book that inspires my imagination so much that I can see the movie playing along as I go is a great read – and this definitely does that. Highly, heartily recommended for fans of murder/mystery novels, fans of James Patterson, and fans of action/mystery movies.”

Knikki Jacobsmeyer

Amazon Reviewer

To sample or purchase The Nursery Rhyme Murders Collection, simply click here.

* * *

The Darc Murder Mystery Collection

Praise for Darc Murders Mysteries...

“A pathological serial killer is terrorizing Seattle and the only person standing in his way is Detective Robi Darcmel. From the chilling opening scene to the last lines of the first episode, I don't remember taking a deep breath. As one observer notes in the opening scene at the slaughter house to a man clearly intrigued by the sight and smell of blood, visceral and flesh--”You are one sick puppy, dude.” Indeed...This is a fascinating if horrific read. One of the most unusual “heros” I can imagine, Detective Robi Darcmel has Asperger's Syndrome… Be prepared to be shocked, and hooked.”

Windgo

Amazon Reviewer

“In the literary tradition of serial novels, I am loving this new format for the Kindle! The characters are engaging, the plot intense, an excellent read! “

Jon M. Wilson

Amazon Reviewer

“I absolutely am loving this book! The way it bounces between the different characters perspectives really helps to get a 3-D picture of whats going on. The killer is so creepy and ominous.

S. Busch

Amazon Reviewer

Currently included in the collection are…

Devious
the prequel short story to 9th Circle

Deceived*exclusive to the collection

Another prequel short story to 9th Circle

9th Circle
the #1 hard-boiled mystery that started it all!

7th Sin
the full-length sequel to 9th Circle

Carnal*exclusive to the collection
the bridge short story between 7th Sin and 5th Pentagram

5th Pentagram
the stunning full-length conclusion to the Darc Murders series

Sinister*exclusive to the collection
the wrap-up short story to the Darc Murders series

More praise for the Darc Murders Collection…

“Five stars for an extraordinary hero who senses his way through clues and is seemingly clueless about ordinary give-and-take relationships. A very satisfying , engrossing novel.”

Dot Day

Amazon Reviewer

To sample or purchase The Darc Murders Mystery Collection, simply click here.

* * *

The Harbinger Mystery Thriller Collection

Hard-boiled mysteries not for the faint of heart

Praise for The Harbinger Mysteries…

“Wickedly macabre and blisteringly paced, Plain Jain marks the debut of a thriller for the new millennium. Brash, funny, terrifying, and shocking, here is a story best enjoyed with all the lights on. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

NYT Top Ten Best Seller

James Rollins

Bloodline

“This book is so creepy. I made the mistake of starting in one night before bed. Not only did the story line keep me turning pages, it freaked me out to the point that I didn’t want to turn off my light.”

The Book Goddess

Book Reviewer

The Harbinger Collection includes…

Anatomy

The greatly anticipated prequel short story to Plain Jane. See where the Harbinger Mystery series began!

Plain Jane

Harbinger’s first novel the #1 Bestselling (Police Procedurals and Hard-Boiled Mysteries)

Dark Lullaby *exclusive to the collection

Is a 12,000+ word stand-alone short story (with no spoilers) that takes place after the Plain Jane: A Patterson-style thriller with a dash of Hannibal.

Soul to Keep *exclusive to the collection

A post-Plain Jane suspense short story.

Wallflower *exclusive to the collection

Pray you aren't noticed - (Book 2 of the Harbinger Mystery Series)

Shallow Grave *exclusive to the collection

A 15,000 word Harbinger Mystery Series short story

Buzz Kill (to be added to the collection October 2013)

the full-length conclusion to the Harbinger Mystery Series

Pallor (to be added exclusively to the collection October 2013)

the “wrap-up” short story, featuring Lucky 37

More praise for the Harbinger Series…

“If you think you know what is going to happen, your wrong. I have read so many suspense and crime books that guessing the end gets easier and easier. NOT this time. Be prepared to be hooked from the first page and loose some sleep because you just can't put it down.”

Michelle Delgado

Amazon Reviewer

To purchase of sample the Harbinger Collection, just click here.

* * *

Down and Dirty - Carolyn’s suspenseful crime collection

Need to stay up late? Then the Down & Dirty McCray Crime Collection is for you! Packed with suspense and terror, you better keep the lights on while reading these!

All Hallows Eve

The one night it’s BAD… to be good

Anatomy

The greatly anticipated prequel short story to Plain Jane. See where the Harbinger Mystery series began!

Mary Mary Quite Contrary

The prequel short story to start off the new series, The Nursery Rhyme Murders

Devious

The prequel short story to the blockbuster smash, 9th Circle

Gauntlet

An All Hallow’s Eve prequel short story

Praise for McCray's crime novels…

All Hallow's Eve…

“Scary and smart, All Hallow's Eve is perfect for anyone who wants to read a horror story that hits them in the gut. From the intricate psychopathology of the serial killer, to the hair-raising tension, to the skewering of pop culture, All Hallow's Eve is simply a great read.”

Your Need To Read

Book Reviewer

Anatomy…

“Anatomy is a short story that had a serial killer that was really creepy. The FBI profiler, Harbinger, was a real wise guy but also very brilliant. It was interesting and a fast paced story. I can't wait to read more of these stories about Harbinger. He has become one of my new favorite characters.”

Judy Russ

Amazon Reviewer

Mary Mary Quite Contrary…

“Really enjoy this book, short but sure made one want more of the story. I love this writer she gives a good story, keeps one step ahead of you but keeps your interest. Now for more info on when next book in series is coming out. I am ready for it!”

Shirleen

Amazon Reviewer

Devious…

“I loved the 9th Circle Serial Book, and this prequel gave me a much better understanding of Trey and Darc's relationship. Knowing where they both ‘came from’ and their history together put many more aspects of The 9th Circle. Full of suspense and thrills this book was a fun read.”

Readerwhit

Amazon Reviewer

Gauntlet…

“I love all the twists her stories and books have she keeps you guessing until the end. I am a definite fan! Amazon Reviewer”

Judith Flores

Amazon Reviewer

The purchase or sample Down and Dirty simply click here.

* * *

Got Thrills? A Boxed Set With Your RDA Allowance of Thrills

From the Carolyn McCray, #1 bestselling author in Techno-thrillers, Men’s Adventure, Action/Adventure, and War comes a pack of thrillers to get your blood pumping!

Praise for Carolyn’s thrillers…

“Everyone of these books is fast paced and exciting. All deserve a 5+ Star rating. Carolyn McCray is a magnificent writer!! She has easily become my number 1 author!!”

Guinevere

Amazon Reviewer

“I read these stories and really enjoyed them all for different reasons. She is definitely got a great way to tell a story and I have bought her other books that are available and are reading them now. Not sure why she is not more widely known her stories are the same caliber as other more famous authors. Highly recommend!”

Lisa Kubin

Amazon Reviewer

The collection includes…

AMBUSH

The prequel short story to the extremely controversial 30 Pieces of Silver

ANATOMY

See where the Harbinger Mystery series began… The Plain Jane prequel.

HACKED

The prequel short story to the #1 action packed techno-thriller, Encrypted

GAUNTLET

The action packed prequel short story to the bestselling Mystery/Horror novel All Hallow’s Eve

DEVIOUS

The shocking prequel to the blockbuster 9th Circle

MOONRUSH

Carolyn’s action-packed full length techno-thriller novel set in the near future.

BLOOD OATH
the prequel short story to the #1 Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy, HeartsBlood

MARY, MARY QUITE CONTRARY
the prequel short story to Humpty Dumpty, the first novel of the Nursery Rhyme Murder series

CAUGHT
the prequel short story to Crossfire, the first book in the second cycle of the Betrayed series

ROGUE SPEAR
the prequel short story to the highly anticipated new Nuclear Proliferation Thriller series

BULLIES

The prequel short story to Carolyn’s latest series, the Apex Predator Thriller series

More praise for Got Thrills!

“I found this book to be just as the title said an action packed techno thriller. I read at least a book a week but this was one of those impossible to put down books. It was well worth the money and based on this book I bought her other book and will be placing the next in her series on my wish list.”

Scott Powner

Amazon Reviewer

To purchase or sample Got Thrills, simply click here.

About the Authors

Carolyn McCray

Carolyn has had a long and extremely interesting road to become a bestseller.

When she head to veterinary school those many years ago she had no idea decades later she would be writing controversial historical thrillers, gut wrenching mysteries and roller coaster-style action/adventure tales!

Born in San Francisco and raised in the beautiful Napa Valley, Carolyn always had an overactive imagination. As a child you could usually find her dragging the neighborhood children out to the haunted barn to make her Nancy Drew-style audio tapes. Oh and did she mention, there was an entire life-sized recreation of the nativity scene in the rafters? Yeah, that wasn’t just a little creepy.

Which of course was great practice for writing such blockbusters as Plain Jane: A Patterson-style thriller with a dash of Hannibal and 30 Pieces of Silver: An Extremely Controversial Historical Thriller.

With over 250,000 books sold, Carolyn now lives on a beautiful lake in the Pacific Northwest where the fog rolls in over the water, snuffing out all signs of life around her. Yep, she still loves the creepy!

Ben Hopkin

Ben Hopkin is a transplanted Texan. After being indoctrinated in the Lone Star State he was ripped from his ancestral home and whisked away to Los Angeles, where he was forced to appreciate fish tacos and sushi. While there, he worked as a professional actor, director, and producer, as well as teacher, which he loves most. He has now settled in Provo, Utah, with his wife and three children. Just in case there was any question, Provo is NOT a happy medium between Ft. Worth and LA, although his kids have made the transition from body boards to snowboards seamlessly.

Contact Information

Carolyn McCray can be found just about everywhere social media exists (and some that are just in her head).

Amazon.com author page
authormccray@aol.com

Twitter

Facebook

Ben Hopkin

Amazon.com author page
authorbenhopkin@gmail.com

Twitter

Facebook

Internet database

Acknowledgments

So many people contribute to any book that it is hard to list them all. However, I intend to try!

This book would never have come into existence without, of course, Jim. Ever cool. Ever there.

Ben, who faithfully edited the manuscript through its many, many, many incarnations.

Dee Dee, who has believed in me for so long it is almost impossible to remember a time without her. #andnothatsnotadissonyourage

Carrie, my editor, who knows of my love for sentence fragments and run-on sentences, yet who still patiently edits them to the point where they are readable!

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, places, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Humpty Dumpty

An Off Our Meds Project/published by arrangement with the author

FIRST EDITION

Copyright 2013 by Carolyn McCray

All rights reserved

Kindle Edition

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Any inquiries can be made to:

3524 South Star Lake Rd

Auburn, WA 98001
authorbenhopkin@gmail.com

Table of Contents

Praise Page

Main Menu

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

EPILOGUE

Afterword

Other Works by Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin

The Nursery Rhyme Murders Collection

The Darc Murder Mystery Collection

The Harbinger Mystery Thriller Collection

Down and Dirty - Carolyn’s suspenseful crime collection

Got Thrills? A Boxed Set With Your RDA Allowance of Thrills

About the Authors

Contact Information

Acknowledgments

Copyright