Claire’s mind raced, ignoring him. “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him since the funeral. He’d be... what, thirty-three now? He could be anywhere.”
“We’ll look into it,” Wolf said. “Don’t worry about him.”
“He could be in danger. Why else would the Countdown Killer mention him?” Claire asked.
Wolf’s eyes met hers. They were shuttered, but she saw anger and something that reminded her of resolve behind them. “Because he wants you to think that no one can save you,” he said. “Not the FBI. Not Shadow Point.” His voice dropped. “Not Bobby.”
The coffee turned sour in her stomach. “Well, he’s wrong. First of all, I don’t need saving, and secondly…” Her gaze stayed locked on Wolf. “I’ve got you.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
Bobby couldn’t save her either.
The words burned in Garrett’s mind like acid. Fifteen years of carefully constructed distance between Bobby Anderson and himself evaporated with five words on a screen.
He stood in the command center, staring at Claire’s phone, his hands shaking with a rage he hadn’t felt since Colombia. Since the night he’d hunted down the man who’d been torturing local women. Since he’d crossed lines he could never uncross.
The Countdown Killer wasn’t just taunting Claire.
He was tauntinghim.
“Commander?” Lynx’s voice pulled him back. “You want me to trace this?”
Garrett forced his jaw to unclench. “Do it. Now.”
His team moved. Lynx was at his laptop, fingers flying. Grizzly was checking perimeter alerts. Hawk was pulling up surveillance feeds. And Vivi watched Garrett with those too-knowing psychologist eyes.
Claire sat in the corner, still pale from the panic attack. Still shaken from the message. Looking at him like she was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.
He couldn’t meet her eyes. If he did, she might see the truth written all over his face.
Bobby couldn’t save her.
Because Bobby had been eighteen and stupid and a hundred miles away when Lily was taken. Because Bobby had failed in every way that mattered. Because Bobby was weak.
But Garrett wasn’t.
“Got it.” Lynx looked up, his face grim. “Message originated from Blackridge.”
The room went silent.
“Blackridge,” Garrett repeated. His voice was hollow. “He’s here.”
“Could be using a relay,” Hawk offered. “Spoofing his location.”
“Or he’s actually here,” Grizzly said. “In town. Close enough to see the compound.”
Garrett’s blood ran cold. The stalker wasn’t in D.C. anymore. He’d followed Claire to Montana. Maybe watching the compound and planning his next move.
“How close?” Garrett asked.
Lynx pulled up a map. A red dot blinked in the center of town. “Signal came from downtown. The coffee shop next to The Last Stand has public Wi-Fi. He could have sent it from inside or from a vehicle outside.”
Claire rose, a ghost of herself, moving toward the blinking light.
“Surveillance footage?” Garrett barked.
“I’m pulling it now, but—” Lynx shook his head. “It’s a busy coffee shop. A dozen people inside. Another dozen walking past. He could be any of them.”
