24
Anya tugged her seat belt more comfortably over her chest as Heath drove through the billowing snow on black-ice roads. “We’re not going to argue about this.”
His hands were steady on the steering wheel, and he handled Ryker’s truck as if he’d done so his entire life. “You’re right. No arguing.”
She watched him from the corner of her eye. His rugged face remained stoic, his gaze concentrated, his body on full alert. He hadn’t said much after seeing the pictures from the e-mail beyond calling and letting the FBI know they were on their way in. “I need to know what you’re thinking. You’re too hard to read.”
He didn’t so much as twitch. “I’m thinking about how to get you out of town and to safety without pissing off the FBI or alerting a serial killer.” His voice was even. Too even.
A shiver tickled down her spine, and she hugged her arms to her body. “The pictures scared me, too.” The rock in her stomach wouldn’t stop aching. “To know he’s been watching me for a couple of years. Maybe longer.” One of the pictures had been from four years ago at a Halloween party. She couldn’t remember who’d taken it, and there was a chance the killer had just found it on the Internet. Or not. Had he been there?
Heath finally glanced her way. “You’re safe, Anya. We’ll get you out of town.” His tone remained low and calm, while his eyes glittered a heated fury.
“No.” She faced him fully and swallowed over a lump in her throat. Chills swept along her arms. “This is what we wanted, right?”
“No.” He continued to concentrate on the road, his tone firm.
“Yes,” she countered, her hands too cold. “We’re here to draw him out.”
Only a slight tightening of Heath’s jaw showed any reaction. “Well, he’s here. So no need.”
“That’s not it,” she burst out. “Don’t you get it? He knows that we know he’s here.That’spart of the game.” Her throat hurt.
“This isn’t a game,” Heath snarled.
“I know.” She breathed out, trying to focus. Trying to think and plan when all she wanted to do was hide. “But this is a game to him—one that just got even more interesting because we’re here in Snowville. He thinks he’s smarter than we are, and the more we goad him, the more we act like we’re not frightened, the sooner he’ll make a move. The sooner he’ll make a mistake.”
Heath took a left turn toward town. A vein pulsed down his strong neck. “Gee, Doc. That sounds textbook.”
Anya reared back. “Sarcasm isn’t necessary.”
Heath’s broad chest shuddered. “Sorry.”
Anya’s temples started to ache, and she rubbed the right one. “Listen. I don’t want to face a serial killer. I really don’t.”
“Good.” He was back to an even tone.
She shivered from the anger just under the surface of that tone. “But he’ll just keep killing. He won’t stop, and now he’s making a move against me. Let’s let him come while we control the situation.” Her vision blurred. She had to find Loretta’s killer and make him pay.
Heath turned down another road, this one busier than the rest. He glanced her way, one eyebrow rising. “You okay?”
“A migraine may hit. Could go either way.” She pinched the pressure point between her thumb and forefinger. She sighed and looked back at him. “I’m right about this.”
“Probably.” Heath eyed the gray sky outside. “You challenged him on television, and he has responded by following us here and sending you those pictures.” His knuckles turned white on the wheel.
“Exactly.” Anya rolled her neck, trying to ease the pressure. “So we make a move, and he’ll have to respond.” She swallowed and tried to sound brave. “He’s a psychopath with a good side of narcissism. He won’t be able to help himself.”
“He’s also unpredictable,” Heath countered. “The guy could just walk up and shoot you.”
“No,” she said, trying not to tremble. “He wouldn’t do that. He has a ritual, and he’ll have to follow it with me. But he might just walk up and shoot you.” Her chest ached at the thought.
“Great.” Heath parked outside the long brick building that held the FBI field office and Copper Killer Task Force before reaching for the printouts of the pictures and e-mail they’d just received. “We’ll talk it through later. For now, let’s go see what good ole Special Agent Fred Reese thinks about this. My guess?”
“He’ll try to put me into protective custody,” Anya said, her shoulders straightening. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Agreed.” Heath moved around the truck to open her door and then held out a hand for her. She took it without hesitation.
The FBI’s offices in Snowville were well protected behind several layers of security, which included cameras and armed agents. After going through the checks, Anya smoothed her hands over her jeans in a chilly conference room, complete with oil paintings of bison and deer. Heath sat quietly at her side, and Special Agent Reese sat across from her, no expression on his face and a stack of manila folders in front of him.
