Torn (23 page)

No matter.

Kennedy was gone now. So was Melissa.

Melissa was my warm-­up.
One he'd been building up to for so long. He'd watched Matthew. Learned. Grown.

There was no more standing in Matthew's shadow. He thought he'd proved that. Now it was
his
time, and he was ready for a much better target. A target he could understand. One who could understand him.

But he couldn't let her leave town. And he was sure that was the plan. After all, there were no more missing in Savannah. No one out there for sweet Victoria to find.

You'll be the one missing soon.

He just had to separate her from the asshole who seemed to shadow her every move. The man who touched her far too much. Her
partner.
Wade Monroe. Monroe needed to be removed from the equation.

Then Victoria would be his to enjoy. Oh, but he couldn't wait to hear all of her secrets. He even had the perfect place to take her, a spot already picked out. They could be alone for so very long.

The cops had her phone. He couldn't reach her that way. No more texts. He'd made her a promise in those texts. She wanted him to lose his control.
I will.

But she might not like it when he did . . .

He put his phone to his ear. Matthew answered on the second ring.

“This is fucking insane,” Matthew muttered. “We
aren't
—­”

“All I need is for you to distract him.” A distraction that they'd talked about last night. “Do what I said, and leave everything else to me.”

Matthew's long sigh filled the line. Matthew was too hesitant. He'd saved the guy's ass, and now he wanted to play cautious in return? No, playing cautious wouldn't work.

Not while she was close.

You started it for me. And you don't even realize it . . .

“Fine,” Matthew said. “I'll do it, but then we're even, got it? No more games. No more
favors.
I'm going to get out of this town, and I really never want to see your ass again.”

There was a stark pause.

“No offense,” Matthew muttered, as if he realized that he'd overstepped.

He smiled. “No offense taken. I think separating is very wise for us.” He'd learned quite a bit from Matthew. But he wasn't a student any longer.

I'm the fucking professor now.

Matthew had become too predictable. He had a narcissistic personality. From a young age, Matthew had enjoyed watching women. Following them.

Controlling them.

Kennedy had been a tipping point for him. His obsession had consumed him too much. By the time he realized what he'd done . . .

It's a good thing I managed to convince him that she needed to stay alive. Otherwise, the last few years would have really been a waste.

Instead, he'd got to see Matthew evolve. A beautiful thing.

Even if Matthew could be an ass.

He ended the call. Put the phone back in his pocket. And knew that it was time to act. Victoria Palmer would be disappearing soon, and even her LOST buddies would not be able to find her.

Once he took her, no one would ever see her again.

T
HE PHONE RANG,
jarring Victoria as she stared up at Wade. The ring was so old-­fashioned—­a long, shaking blare, when she was used to her smart phone—­that she sat up and glanced at the landline on the table.

“Could be Gabe,” she said. “He ran that NamUs check for us . . .”

Wade nodded curtly and hurried toward the phone. When he moved away from her, Victoria's shoulders relaxed. She hadn't realized she was tense until that moment.

He picked up the phone. “Monroe.” His gaze sharpened. “Right. Now?  . . . Yeah, yeah, we can make it. Okay. Thanks.”

That had certainly been a fast call. Wade put down the handset and surveyed her with a faint scowl on his face.

The news must not be good.

“What is it?”

“That was Gabe. Our plane is here. It's time to go.”

She backed up a step. “What?”

“He sent the company plane to pick us up. It's waiting at the airport. Let's get our clothes together and—­”

“You called him.” It was the only thing that made sense. No way would the plane just suddenly appear for a pickup. “Last night, when I was asleep, you called Gabe.”

His shoulders rolled back. “I needed to update him on—­”

“Did you tell him what I did?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “That trust we talked about isn't going to be easy with you, is it, baby?” Then, before she could respond, he said, “No, I didn't tell him that. I did tell him that the perp has an obsession with you and that I wanted us both out of here.”

“We can find the killer!”

“Not if the cost is you.” He gave a grim shake of his head. “That cost is far too high. So I talked to Gabe last night. Yeah, I called him after you went to sleep. Because I was worried about you. The killer has only been contacting you.
You,
Victoria. You're the one he's interested in. He's lost his other prey, so who the hell do you think he will focus on next?”

“You can't—­”

“I made the decision to call Gabe. Be pissed at me, but you'll be alive. LOST agents have been put at risk too much on recent cases. You almost
died
the last time a killer caught you in his trap. I wasn't going to let that happen again.” He gave a hard shake of his head. “Our job here is done. Captain Vann wants us gone. Kennedy has been recovered. So has Melissa—­there is no more work for us here.”

She rushed toward him, hands clenched at her sides. “And when the next woman is taken? How will you feel then?”

“The cops are working on—­”

“I can draw him out!”

His cheeks flushed. “No, you can get killed. It was Gabe's decision. He doesn't want to risk you.” He lowered his voice. “Neither the fuck do I. It's time we packed it in and got out of the area.”

This wasn't what she wanted. They could do something here. They had the chance to make a real difference.

“I can't lose another woman I—­” Wade broke off. “I can't do this.”

“I'm not Amy.” Time to be very clear on that.

He shook his head.

“I'm not going to vanish. I'm here, and my job—­it's to help people.”

“We don't have a job here. No client, not anymore. Gabe has the plane waiting.”

So they were just supposed to walk away? It seemed so wrong. A killer, still out there, hunting. And them—­what, running away?

“There were no other hits in NamUs that matched up with this guy,” Wade continued. “Gabe had Sarah create a victim profile, and she didn't find anyone else in the system. He isn't following any kind of pattern—­”

“Kennedy and Melissa were both Worthington students.”

“Yes.”

“
That's
a pattern right there. And Kennedy's body was found on the running path near the school. The missing women both link back to Worthington.” And suddenly she knew what she was going to do. “The plane can wait. I want to go back to that school.” She turned on her heel and headed toward her bedroom.

“What in the hell do you think you'll find there?” Wade called after her. “The killer? He isn't just going to walk up to you and confess! It doesn't work that way! We need to leave.”

Victoria's shoulders stiffened. “
I
need to do this.” It was almost a compulsion for her. “I'm not ready to leave, not just yet. And so what if the plane waits a few hours? It will be there when I'm done.” There was one more person she wanted to see before she boarded the plane. One person who interested her in this tangled investigation.

One man who might be holding secrets back.

“Viki . . .”

Her hand rose and curled around the door frame. “Dr. North recognized me that first day. He knew me. He was in the courtroom when my father was on trial.” She looked over her shoulder. “Then, ever so conveniently, the killer knew about my past. That's not a coincidence.”

“You think North is the perp?” He'd shot forward at her words.

“I think . . . I want to see him again.” She wished that she could read people the way Sarah did. That she could look at a killer and figure out all of his secrets.

But those were Sarah's talents. Not hers.

“You can come with me, or I can go alone. But one way or another, I am going back to Worthington.” Because that was where their investigation had begun.

And she was convinced it was where it would end, too.

W
ADE DIDN'T LIKE
this setup. Not at all.

They were back at Worthington University. Back in that pompous ass North's office. He was seated behind his desk, his nose still swollen and his eyes now black.
Yeah, that's what happens when you get punched in the fucking face.

And just how convenient was it that the man who'd hit North . . . well, Jim Porter was now in the hospital, currently hooked up to a dozen tubes as he struggled to live.

“I understand that . . . Melissa was found.” Troy North's voice had just the right degree of sadness. “I'm very sorry. The story was on the news and . . .” His gaze turned distant. “It's horrible to realize that humans can commit such terrible crimes.”

“Yeah,” Wade muttered. “Really fucking horrible.”

North's gaze became less distant as he focused on Wade once more. “Why did you come back here?” he asked.

“Because I needed to see you,” Victoria said.

At her words, he straightened.

Settle down, asshole.

North's hands flattened on his desk. “What can I do?”

Wade cleared his throat. At the sound, North's gaze jerked back toward him.
That's right. Eyes over here, jerkoff.
If this guy was the killer . . . “You know Dr. Matthew Walker, don't you?”

“Vaguely.” North lifted one hand, waved it a bit. “I've seen him at school functions. Around campus. I hardly know him well.” He leaned forward. “But I did hear about what happened. How the police thought he was involved in all that madness with Melissa Hastings.” The faint lines near his mouth tightened. “Terrible, terrible business.”

Wade slanted a fast glance toward Victoria, curious to see what she was thinking of this guy. But her gaze wasn't on North. It was on the wall of diplomas behind him.

“You know so much about human psychology,” she murmured. “About what motivates people. What drives them . . .”

“Yes.” There was pride in that word. “I try to be a student of the human mind.”

Victoria's attention slid back to him. “My friend, Sarah, is like you. She studies the mind. Only with Sarah, she likes to figure out what motivates killers. She's not interested in the average person. It's the monsters that call to Sarah.”

North licked his lips. “You mean Sarah Jacobs.”

Victoria inclined her head toward him. “So you
do
know the LOST group.”

“I—­I did some research. After the first day when you were in my office.” His gaze darted between Victoria and Wade. “But most people in the profession know about Dr. Jacobs.” His laughter was high-­pitched, nervous. “I mean, when the daughter of a serial killer becomes a profiler, people take note! What I wouldn't give to look into her mind . . .”

A heavy silence followed his words. The really uncomfortable kind of silence.

Yeah, okay, this guy could be a killer. Not only is he pissing me off, but he is freaking me the hell out, too.

“I bet Sarah would enjoy looking into your mind,” Victoria said quietly.

A furrow deepened between North's brows. “My mind?” He gave another light, nervous-­sounding laugh. “Why would she? I'm quite dull, I assure you.”

Victoria shook her head. “I'm not so sure that you are.” Her gaze slid to the wall of diplomas behind him once more. “Why did you become a psychiatrist?”

He shrugged. “Because the mind fascinates me. People fascinate me. What they'll do, their drives, their secrets . . .”

Wade wanted to drive his fist into the guy's face. There was just something about the way he was looking at Victoria.
Eyes the fuck over here, jerk.
But this was why they had come here. Because Victoria wanted to get a read on this joker. Wade cleared his throat. “Do you know a lot about secrets?” he asked him.

The doctor hesitated. “I can usually read people pretty well.” His shoulders straightened and that arrogant air kept right on clinging to him. “You, for example, you're an open book.”

Think again.
“Am I?”

“Ex-­cop,” North said, giving a deep nod, one that led with his chin, then took his whole head forward. “Probably got tired of all the red tape that came with the job. So you went independent, thinking you could make a difference, but it's not that easy, is it? The dead keep coming, and you can't seem to ever get ahead of the killers.”

“Don't be so sure about that,” Wade murmured.

“You lost someone, obviously.” Now, North really seemed to be getting into his profile of Wade. “That was the tipping point for you. You followed the law, always did what was right, but the blood was too much. So you left the job, but you keep following that thin line—­the line between right and wrong. You can't cross that line. And you can't allow others to do it, either. It's just . . . not who you are.”

You don't know me.
Wade gave him a grim smile. “Dead on.”
In your fucking dreams.

Victoria glanced toward Wade, a swift, worried stare.

Just keep him talking, baby. It's bullshit. But let the guy feel confident.
Because he had seen this routine dozens of times in interrogation rooms. Jackasses would get too confident, too cocky, and they'd spill all that they tried so hard to keep hidden.