“Sarcasm. Nice.” Rutherford took out the picture of the redhead draped over the log in the forest, a gaping hole in her chest. This time the cuts were smoother, although the dump area was not Lassiter’s style. “Where were you when Sasha McDouglass was dumped in the forest?”
“I was at the office when the call came in. Most of the team had been there but had left.” He looked more closely at the young woman. So that was her name. “Who was she?”
“You tell us,” Rutherford said, twirling the photo around with one finger.
Angus lifted his head. “What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t look familiar?” Fields asked.
Angus studied the photo. “She looks a little like Brigid Banaghan, a former teammate of mine, but that’s it.”
“All right.” Rutherford tapped a finger on the photograph. “You said that most of the team had gone from the office when you received the call about McDouglass. Who was left there with you?”
“Nari.” In fact, it was the first time Angus had kissed her. A pit opened up in his gut. They couldn’t be going where he thought they were, could they?
Rutherford drew out a picture of the victim found in the laundry room of Angus’s former apartment building. “What about this innocent victim? Lizzie Nelson? Where were you when she was dumped, right where you lived?”
Angus looked at the woman, his chest aching. She was so young. So defenseless against a psychopath. “I was sleeping when the call came.”
Fields reached into his pocket. “In the apartment complex?”
“No. In my cabin,” Force said.
“Alone?” Rutherford asked.
Angus nodded, unable to look away from the gaping hole in the woman’s chest. Completely smooth lines this time—much closer to Lassiter’s work. “Except for Roscoe.”
Fields pulled out another cough drop and slowly unwrapped it. “You still have your cabin in Kentucky?”
“Yes.” The burger he’d eaten for lunch rolled around in Angus’s stomach.
“Huh. If you still have that cabin, why did you need this one?” Rutherford cocked his head.
Angus grew still. He needed to focus, damn it. “I like cabins.” He’d get any of his team still working for the government fired if he admitted they were working these cases together and had needed the cabin to do so. “Real estate is a good investment, you know.” Not the truth, but not a lie. He was definitely skirting the edge of a felony, however.
“I have heard there are good returns on real estate.” Fields popped the drop into his mouth.
Angus turned on him. “What is up with you and cough drops?”
“I’m on a diet and they’re the only treat I get,” Fields said, sucking on the drop.
Rutherford sighed. “They still have ten calories a cough drop, you know.” He shook his head and opened another file folder, pushing forward a picture of a dead African American woman. “Identify her.”
Angus started. “You found another body today.” Shit. The victim looked a lot like Serena. Whoever had been watching the team had done so for months. “Are there still HDD operatives on Serena Johnson?”
“Of course,” Fields said. “She’s safe. Unlike this woman. Her name was Bernadette Wexel.”
“Was there a note?” Angus asked, his throat suddenly raw. Another woman. Another death. She looked young and broken in death.
Rutherford leaned toward him. “You know there was, don’t you?”
Angus closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “All right. What did it say?”
“You know. Stop messing around with us,” Rutherford snapped. “Stop playing. It’s over. You’re over. Don’t you want to get this all off your chest? Come on. They gave you to us because we know you. You were one of us—don’t let me down. Don’t let your team down.”
Angus stared into the earnest eyes of the HDD agent. Well, he was going for earnest. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Rutherford gave up any pretense of brotherhood. “I can help you or I can destroy you and everybody you’ve touched, including sweet Nari Zhang.” He slapped down the five pictures, one at a time, their edges barely touching.
