Promise me.”
“All right.”
There was a knock at the door. “Laura, we need to get dressed and go. I put together some toast and eggs. You can eat it fast. I made you coffee, too.” Cam sounded hesitant. If she didn’t watch it, they would go with her when she needed them working.
“Sounds great.” She squeezed Holly’s hand and went to force breakfast down her throat.
He waited, his breath pulsing in and out of his body. It was a rhythm, and he could hear the thud of his own heart. Had she gotten the news?
He’d left her a gift. Her greatest enemy, torn to shreds. Not shreds, exactly, but he had neatly eviscerated the bitch. She’d cried and begged for her pitiful life. She’d thought that her career would save her. Dumb animal. It had been anticlimactic to push the knife through her belly and watch as she writhed on the blade. He had watched, sitting back and letting her believe she was alone. He would never again underestimate one of his lady loves. She had cried and begged and found some deity that she’d never believed in before. It had been predictable and utterly pathetic.
She’d been an unsatisfactory substitute for what he really wanted.
His rabbit.
Now that he’d seen her again, he knew she was the one for him.
His cock hardened. The thought of her was the only thing that got him hard anymore. There had been that one woman, but she was gone and she’d been a whore. His rabbit was a whore, too. She couldn’t help it.
She was female.
She had to be put down, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy her before he did it.
It would be a true gift. An honor to bestow.
It was the least he could do before he killed her.
Chapter Seventeen
Cam stared at the computer screen, willing the damn thing to move faster. It seemed like forever since they’d both kissed Laura and let her leave with the sheriff. It had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, but she wouldn’t back down. She’d been adamant about getting this “interview” over with. Laura wasn’t one to procrastinate. She was a “rip the Band-Aid off” kind of girl.
The computer beeped quietly, the sound taunting to Cam’s ears.
“Hurry it up,” Rafe complained.
Rafe had his arms crossed over his chest as he stood behind Cam.
Everything about his attitude spoke of his irritation. He’d already talked to Laura twice on the radio Nate Wright had given them.
Cam wanted to punch something. Rafe had been on his ass since the second Laura had driven away. Laura hadn’t wanted Rafe to leave him behind, so Rafe was waiting on Cam to get the files he needed.
“I’m going as fast as I can. When was the last time you used dial-up?
Seriously, if we’re staying in this town, we have to do something about the Internet access.”
Rafe stopped and sighed, a long, heavy sound. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I just don’t like this. It feels wrong.” Everything about it felt wrong. It was wrong that someone had been killed in this sleepy little town. It was wrong that Laura was having her life disrupted again.
Cam waved off the apology. It wasn’t needed. He knew why Rafe was edgy. “Did you pull Laura’s profile?” Rafe went to the bed where his briefcase sat and pulled out a fat file folder. “Yes. I’ve gone over it a thousand times. We know he’s an organized killer. He almost never does anything without careful planning. He’s disciplined and well educated.”
“He would have to be to have gotten into the FBI.” Rafe was silent for a moment. “We have all kinds of measures in place to keep something like this from happening. We have to go through testing.”
“All of which a highly-intelligent, highly-motivated person with a deep understanding of psychology could fake his way through.” Those tests weren’t infallible. Nor were the psychiatrists who administered them. “The screening process isn’t perfect. Nothing is.” Rafe leafed through the documents. “This is interesting. She talks about how she thinks the killer will use the media. She labels him as intensely controlling and very interested in what she calls his ‘legacy.’
Sound familiar?”
“Given what we know now, yeah.” It was obvious that the Marquis de Sade had used Jana Evans, probably even telling her what to write, and when she had lost her usefulness, he’d killed her. “Do we know where her cameraman was at the time?” Rafe had talked to Nate, too. “He was in the van. Apparently there weren’t any rooms left, and Jana wasn’t kind enough to let him stay with her. He was on the computer, video chatting with a couple of buddies. They had a satellite connection. Maybe we should break into the news van. Anyway, they have him down at the station giving a statement, but he didn’t hear anything.” Another dead end. But maybe the cameraman knew something about Jana’s source.
The screen changed, and he was in. “Thank god.” Rafe got behind him, blocking out the light from the window.
“What can you tell?”
Impatient bastard. “Nothing yet. I just managed to get in the system. Let me copy the files onto a thumb drive, and we can head to the station. I don’t care what Nate says. I can go through what I found quietly while we watch Laura. I’m done hacking into the server, so the sheriff doesn’t have to worry about me getting him in serious trouble and bringing the feds down on the town. I don’t think we need more feds.”
It was funny how easily he’d slipped into the role of Bliss citizen.
“And you?” Rafe asked. “How much trouble could you get into?” Cam shrugged. “All they’re going to know is the ID on this computer. I’ll dump it after I’m done. I’ll take it apart and toss out the parts. You think I haven’t done this before?” He had. Many times. His fingers flew across the keys now that he’d been granted access. He’d been a snot-nosed, small-town hacker before the feds had swooped in to show him the error of his ways.
He’d given it up for a long time, but in the last few years he’d taken it up again. Now he was damn happy he was up to speed. A nudge here, a nudge there, and he was in. The files started to download. The FBI kept copious files on their employees.
“I have the police report on Edward’s mother’s death.” He scanned the simple report. “It looks like Toyota versus eighteen-wheeler. The mom’s blood alcohol level was over the limit. Other than that, it’s kind of boring. He went to Yale. Top of his class. He’s been a dedicated agent for years. Here’s the complaint Laura filed.
Asshole. He made comments about women in the workplace and how a woman like Laura is really just looking for a husband. I bet that went over like gangbusters with Laura. She left before the complaint could be resolved.” Cam read down the professor’s file until he came to the newest tidbit of information. “He just moved. And listed his emergency contact as a man named Cecil Newberg.” Rafe’s lips curled slightly. “That explains a lot, actually. Good for Edward. And we can eliminate him. He was out of town the night Laura was attacked. I had forgotten, but he left for a convention that night. At least two hundred law enforcement personnel attended a seminar he gave in Atlanta.”
Cam breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to believe that one of his coworkers was capable of this. If he could eliminate the members of his former team, he could move on. He closed the file on Edward and moved on to Brad. “Brad wasn’t at BAU when Laura was attacked.”
Rafe stared over Cam’s shoulder, crowding him just a little. There was only one desk in the motel room, and it was barely large enough to fit the laptop. “Don’t discount him. When he first became my partner, he walked in the door with a file on the Marquis de Sade. He said he was fascinated with the case. He requested the assignment.” Cam pulled up everything he could on Brad Conrad. Star football player. High school valedictorian. On paper, Brad Conrad was the all-American hero. He’d given up his athletic dreams to pursue justice after his high school girlfriend was killed. He’d single-mindedly pursued a career with the FBI. And he’d fought to get on the BAU.