“Do you know my sister?” Anya asked quietly.
Dingman’s face fell. “Yeah, I do. We both usually work out of the DC office, but Loretta travels for cases a lot.”
Yeah. The second Anya had called, Loretta had headed to Snowville and joined the serial killer task force there. “So you were brought in to crunch data now that she’s been taken,” Anya asked, her throat going dry.
“I volunteered. I look at the data and try to find patterns. I also read the notes from the behavioral science experts from the FBI.”
Anya frowned. “The profilers?”
Dingman’s lips twitched. “They don’t like being called that, believe it or not.”
“I’ve already read their files. Did you learn anything?” Anya studied the map with carefully marked locations of abductions.
“This guy has a serious problem with both authority figures and redheads.” Dingman shrugged. “Maybe his mother was a crazy redhead who abused him, and his father was a cop who beat him or didn’t care. It seems like the profiles are kind of obvious, if you ask me. Unless they’re wrong.”
Anya breathed out. “That’s what I found as well. My dad was a cop—the best. We’ve factored that into the profile since the killer has focused on me.”
Dingman studied her. “His fascination with you is interesting, but tracing your past, we’ve found nothing.” She opened a file that held copies of the letters the killer had sent to her. “It does seem as if he knows you.”
Anya shivered. “Maybe. There’s nothing specific to me or my past in any of the eight letters, so it could be he saw me and became fixated. Or perhaps he found me on the Internet on the college website.” Many serial killers created connections where there were none. “I shouldn’t have called her.”
Dingman patted her arm. “Of course you called your sister when a serial killer started sending you letters. Who wouldn’t?”
“Yeah, but Loretta wasn’t on this case.” Anya swallowed, her throat feeling like she’d swallowed glass. “We need to find this guy.” Before he killed her sister.
“Yeah.” Dingman shoved curly black hair away from her face. “One of the profilers thinks the killer might have a partner, just based on timelines and how quickly he moves. He’s also able to subdue some trained women pretty easily.”
“Like Loretta.” Tears pricked the backs of Anya’s eyes.
“Right. So maybe he has help?”
That didn’t fit with Anya’s profile. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she yanked it out to press to her ear. “Reese?” she asked, her adrenaline spiking.
Quiet fizzed across the line for a moment. “Who is Reese?” came next.
Anya’s heart sank. “Excuse me,” she whispered to Agent Dingman before hurrying into the smallest conference room for privacy and shutting the door. The instant quiet surrounded her, and she put her back to the brick wall. “I asked you not to call me, Carl.” Her voice shook and she quickly calmed it.
“Where are you?” he asked, ignoring her words.
“None of your business,” she all but snarled. “We’re over, we’re done, and you need to leave me alone before I file a complaint against you.”
Carl snorted. “You already had your badass sister come and threaten me. Isn’t that enough?”
Anya swallowed several times. “Loretta visited you? When?” She dug her nails into the phone.
“Put a gun in my face and told me she’d blow my head off if I came near you again, which is both a battery and an assault, you know. I’m thinking seriously about lodging a complaint with the police. Agents can’t go off half-cocked like that.”
He was such a weasel. “When?” Anya snapped. She’d had no idea Loretta had tracked Carl down. “When did you see her, damn it?”
“Saturday night. Why?”
Loretta had disappeared on Monday, and Anya had seen her Sunday night. So Carl the asshat hadn’t hurt Loretta. “Did you see anybody following her? Any odd vehicles or people around?” Anya gripped the phone tighter.
“No. Why? What does that have to do with anything?” Carl hissed.
Anya drew in a deep breath. The FBI had kept Loretta’s kidnapping out of the news. It was doubtful Carl knew anything, but she’d give the FBI the information anyway so they could question Carl. “Nothing. Just stop calling me.” The last time he’d called, she’d gotten upset and cried all over Loretta. So her big sister had apparently visited southern Washington in her spare time. Every bone in Anya’s body began to ache.
“Listen, Anya.” His voice turned low and soothing. “You and I dated for months, and I made one little mistake. I said I’m sorry, and you need to let me make things up to you.”
