The back of Reid’s chair hit the wall, cutting off his escape. “I told you, man. The garage and the place out in Lincoln were the only two places I knew about. Tim’s wife took the house in South End.”
The door swung open, and Cam whipped around. Matt slid into the room, taking up a spot on the wall next to Jamie. “Di just cleared that house. No one’s there. Wife moved to Arizona, rents it out. She hasn’t spoken to Harper in years.”
Fuck!
Turning back to his suspect, Cam started forward again but Matt spoke first. “He never talked about anyplace else? Another family member’s or friend’s place he might crash at?”
Reid shook his head. “No, I swear.”
Cam splayed out the pictures the ME had handed him when he’d come charging in. “These are Harper’s victims.”
Hand over his mouth, Reid angled his face away from the gruesome tableau.
“Twelve in all. They were buried at the farmhouse.”
“I swear I didn’t know.” He sounded pitiful enough for Cam to believe him, but his guilt wasn’t Cam’s problem right now.
“Do you know what else was there?” He pulled out the last picture in the folder and slid it across the table. When Reid kept his gaze averted, Cam slammed a palm on the table again. “Look, you fucking asshole!”
A hand wrapped around his arm. “Ease off,” Jamie said.
Cam ignored him, all his focus on Reid, whose eyes were wide as saucers, staring at the picture of the shrine to Erin on Harper’s wall.
“That’s his first victim. You recognize her, don’t you?”
Reid covered his mouth again, nodding.
“Erin Byrne. My little sister.”
“I had no idea. I’m sorry, man, but?—”
“Now he’s got someone else I love, and let me be clear, I will do anything and go through anyone to get him back.”
An hour ago he’d woken to banging on his bedroom door. Every minute since had been a fucking nightmare. Jamie showing him the box of doughnuts he’d found outside on the Jeep. Nic’s phone inside.
Nic gone.
He’d had a terrible notion of what might have happened and the hotel’s parking lot security camera proved it. Harper, gun to Nic’s back, shoving him into a car.
Cam was never eating fucking Dunkin’ again.
Once at the station, Jamie had tried to track him on traffic cams, but in morning rush hour, it had been impossible to follow them. The man who’d kidnapped his sister, who’d kidnapped thirteen other girls, now had the person he loved most in the world. There was some small comfort in knowing Nic was more than capable, could likely get himself out of the situation, but would it be in one piece? All bets were off when dealing with an unhinged serial killer.
The rope was pulled taut, on the verge of shredding. Cam just had to hang on, hold the strands together. Find Nic so he could breathe again and get rid of this awful drowning feeling in his chest and head.
Fuck, he couldn’t think like this.
And right now, he needed to be Agent Byrne, the Bureau’s best K&R agent, otherwise Cameron Byrne was going to lose the man who was looking more and more like the love of his life.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep. A phantom touch across his back, the remembered taste of pilsner on his tongue, inked memories on pale skin, a whisper in his ear, You catch ’em, I’ll lock ’em up.
Nic’s icy blue eyes, warm and grounding, the last time they’d exchanged the familiar words, right here at the station. Before they’d raided the garage.
The garage . . .
Fingers tangling with his outside the farmhouse.
The farmhouse . . .
