“You need to stay in your room.”
“And I told you I’m not sitting on the sidelines.” She walked past him, chin up, spine straight. “I’m part of this operation whether you like it or not.”
“Claire—” he tried again.
“I need to check in with my team at the FBI. Call Reeves. Update them. Then I’m sitting in on your planning session because I know this killer better than any of you, and you need me there.”
He hated it, but she was right.
“Fine.” Garrett turned to Bobcat. “You’re with us.”
The three of them headed to the operations room, with its tactical maps, communication equipment, and enough weapons to supply a small army. Grizzly and Lynx were already there, studying satellite images of the abandoned mining facility. Hawk was outside, keeping eyes on the perimeter. Garrett sent Bobcat to back him up.
Lynx moved to his laptop. “All security monitors are operational. There are three drones in the air, and I’ve got eyes on every approach to the compound.”
“Good.” Garrett turned to Claire. “Make your call, but do not mention the new message. Do not mention our plan. Standard check-in only.”
“Is that an order, Commander?” Claire said dryly.
“Yes, it is, Paperclip.”
Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her Bureau phone and dialed Reeves. She put it on speaker so they could all hear. It rang four times and went to voicemail.
“Marcus, it’s Claire. Just checking in. Everything’s fine here. Shadow Point is…thorough. Call me when you can. I want to hear how the task force is doing.”
She hung up. Looked at Garrett. “He should have answered. He always answers.”
“Could be in a briefing,” Grizzly suggested.
“At nine PM?”
“Or he’s got his phone off. Sleeping.” Lynx shrugged. “Even SACs need rest.”
Claire didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue.
Garrett moved to the tactical map. “Okay. Let’s assume the stalker takes our bait. Agrees to meet at the mining facility on the anniversary. Here’s how we?—”
The door burst open.
Vivi’s face was pale, and her hands were shaking.
Garrett’s blood went cold. “What is it?”
“Local police just reported a homicide.” Vivi’s voice was tight. “A woman, mid-twenties. brunette hair, blue eyes. Her throat was slashed.”
The room went silent.
“Where?” Garrett asked.
“Behind the coffee shop where the message was sent.” Vivi’s eyes met his. “She looks like Claire.”
Claire made a sound—something between a gasp and a sob.
The Countdown Killer wasn’t waiting for the anniversary. Wasn’t playing their game. He was hunting. Right now. In their town.
And he’d just killed a woman who looked like Claire. “He’s not just here,” Garrett added. “He just replied to our message.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
