“It’s an official investigation now, and Eric is on the clock. He’ll get a rental. A perk of the job.”
“I guess that means he won’t be hanging around the house anymore.”
“No. They’ll get hotel rooms, probably in Millport.”
Laurie’s eyes can’t hold still. They move from the windows to the door and back to the table.
“I should have taken the stalker more seriously.”
“Hey,” Darcy says, setting the mug on the table. “You acted natural, same as I would react in your position. Nobody wants to accept the worst-case scenario.”
“And now it’s part of a federal investigation. How did this happen to us?”
Darcy lowers her eyes to the table. She brought this on Laurie, just as she invited the horror of Michael Rivers into the lives of her children, Amy Yang, and the murdered girls of Darkwater Cove. If she’d finished the job and killed Michael Rivers in that dark house three years ago, none of this would be happening.
Footsteps crossing through the upstairs cause Darcy to lift her head.
“How long did it take before my kids rolled out of bed?”
Laurie smirks.
“Noon.”
“Rise and shine.”
“Ha. I was the same way. I never got out of bed before lunchtime on the weekends when I was a teenager. My parents would cut up sandwiches while I pulled a box of Wheaties down from the cupboard.” When Darcy doesn’t laugh, Laurie leans her elbows on the table. “Don’t blame yourself, Darcy. You’re a victim.”
Darcy sips the hot chocolate. The sweet liquid cannot wash away the lump in her throat.
“Every night I fall asleep worrying what my kids’ lives will be like when this is over. They’ve both been attacked and abducted, and the psychopaths following the Full Moon Killer want both of them murdered. How do you live with something like that?” Darcy sets the mug down and leans her head on her palm, elbow resting on the table. “And now another girl is missing.”
Laurie opens her mouth to argue and closes it. Her silence weighs heavily on the room as the fire crackles inside the wood stove. Darcy jumps when her phone rings. She checks the caller ID and breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing Hensel’s name.
“I better take this,” Darcy says, stepping onto the porch.
The cold grew teeth while Darcy was inside. Is this Georgia or Northern Maine? She curses herself for not grabbing a jacket on the way outside.
“How long before the team arrives in Millport?”
“Two or three hours, depending on traffic,” Hensel says. “The roadblocks have been up since yesterday afternoon, but I’m concerned the kidnapper took Sandy Young out of the county before Tipton realized she was missing.”
“No chance. He’s here, Eric. He evaded the FBI and sheriff’s department for a decade. This is where he feels safe, this is where he buried the girls. He would never leave his trophies.”
Hensel pauses.
“You should give the profile.”
“That will go over well with the FBI—a civilian delivering the profile. No thanks. I’ve probably gotten you into enough trouble by dragging you into this mess.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Hensel moves the phone away from his ear and answers a question. Darcy recognizes Tipton’s voice in the background. “Still, it feels weird without you working the case. You have a better sense for murderers than anyone I’ve worked with.” There’s a pregnant pause before Hensel speaks again. “I wish you’d get it together so you could come back to the FBI.”
“I didn’t realize I was so broken.”
“Look, maybe I’m reading too much into things, but you haven’t been yourself since I came to see you in Genoa Cove. I asked you then about the medication.”
“You think I’m a junkie, Eric?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Why is Hensel bringing this up over the phone when he could have spoken to Darcy at Laurie’s?
“Forget I brought it up. You should come back to the BAU. If you’re not ready for full-time work, start as a consultant. The new profiler would learn a ton working under you.”
Darcy blows the hair out of her face.
“So that’s it. You just want me to coach up your new prospect.”
“That’s not why I want you back. You have a sixth sense for tracking down serial killers that nobody can teach in a classroom.”
“I retired, Eric. There’s no turning that ship around.”
“But you didn’t retire. You left to heal, and from where I stand I’d say you’ve made amazing progress. You can come back when you’re ready. The ball has always been in your court. Listen, the crew we’re bringing in is top notch. I’d like you to come by tomorrow morning for the briefing and meet everyone.”
“Me?”
“The agent in charge of the briefing is smart as a whip but green. She could use a more experienced profiler looking over her shoulder.”
“Eric, I couldn’t.”
“Why the heck not?”
“I haven’t profiled in three years. My mind isn’t wired that way anymore. It’s not a switch I can turn on and off on a whim.”
“Could have fooled me. You knew things about Amy Yang’s murderer long before the police figured it out.”
She sits on the steps and drops her head between her knees. The day she walked away from the FBI, she never envisioned returning. Her children already lost one parent. She can’t risk leaving them alone in the world, two forgotten souls for child services to control. But she lost a part of herself when she retired, as though the cardboard box of her work belongings she packed and carried out to her car contained her soul.
“I get what you’re trying to do, Eric. Invite me into the fold and give me a taste of the action so I miss the job. Well, you’re too late. I already miss profiling, but I need to protect Hunter and Jennifer. That’s not something I can do when I’m at work.”
“I know,” Hensel says. “And that’s something else I need to discuss with you. I spoke with headquarters. They can get you, Laurie, and the kids out of the country under assumed names, including passports.”
Darcy lifts her head.
“Eric, what are you suggesting?”
“Get out of Georgia after the briefing. Take Laurie and the kids someplace warm and tropical, a beach where you’re surrounded by vacationers. Keep everyone off the Internet, even if you have to confiscate their phones. We can send an agent with you until the danger is over. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s better than waiting until Rivers sends a murderer after your family. The moon is almost full, Darcy.”
Darcy looks up at the bedroom window. Jennifer stands behind the glass, her body blurred by the dirt-smudged pane.
“No, I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“This is my mess to clean up. Sandy Young won’t be the last girl the killer takes. The horror is just beginning.”
Hensel grunts, flustered.
“The offer stands. When you change your mind, call me.”
Darcy stares at the phone. She forgets the cold, the wind. In less than five minutes, Hensel offered an escape from Georgia and opened a door to the FBI Darcy thought had permanently closed. Knowing the BAU team is en route to the sheriff’s office while she waits for word at Laurie’s makes her feel out of the loop, a non-participant in a deadly game that affects her life. She wants to drive back to the office, meet the team and review their profile, making suggestions where needed.
Instead, she’s an unmoving target. She should take Hensel up on his offer. To hell with Georgia. The kids are scared, nobody is happy. Summer temperatures and blue waters in December would improve morale.
Except the plan is fool’s gold. Hensel can fly Darcy and her family to an uncharted island near the equator, and Michael Rivers will find her.