Alex closed his eyes as a feeling of hopelessness washed over him. “He has her, Garrett.” He opened them again. “That son of a bitch has her, and we have no way of knowing where they went.”
“I may have a way.”
Both Garrett and Alex turned to Dan. “How?”
“One of my partner’s wives is what’s called a remote locater. Her name’s Kat, and she works for Phoenix, as well as several other agencies. She found a group of hostages in the past. I believe she can help us find Eden, as well.”
As unbelievable as Kat’s ability sounded, Alex was willing to try anything to bring Eden back to him.
Looking at Dan, he didn’t hesitate in saying, “Make the call.”
Chapter Thirteen
The first thing Eden noticed when she woke was the unusual fogginess rolling around inside her brain. That and the pounding headache that made her want to vomit.
Through the thick haze, she noticed her muscles were sore, each movement feeling as though she’d given herself one hell of a workout at the gym. But she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been to a gym.
What the heck happened to me?
Eden attempted to sit up, but large, metal clasps restraining her ankles and wrists prevented it. A flash of memory hit, and it all came rushing back in an instant.
The club. The man. The taser. Zoe.
Oh, God. He stabbed Zoe.
Eden opened her mouth to call for help, but no sound escaped. She swallowed, but her throat and mouth were so dry, it was as if she’d been chewing on cotton.
She’d never been on the receiving end of a taser before, but Eden knew the dizzying effects she was feeling now were a result of Josiah drugging her after shocking her into submission. That probably explained why she wasn’t getting more visions.
Looking around the room, Eden searched for some indication of where she was. Because she was laying down, her line of sight was limited, but she did her best to focus on what she could see.
The room was small and dark, its damp mustiness reminding her of the old storm cellar on her grandparent’s farm. At her feet was a stone wall, and about eight feet to her right there appeared to be a step peeking out from around the wall’s edge. Above her were exposed, wooden beams that looked as though they’d been in place for many years.
Eden turned her head to the left, expecting to see more of the same. Instead, what she found left her gasping.
Hanging from a piece of tattered twine were several pictures. Each of the five victims were there, the images from both before, during, and after the women’s abductions and subsequent deaths.
It had been bad enough to see their faces on the board at the precinct, and those had been provided by either their family members or the DMV data base. To see them in the midst of their final moments on this earth was heart wrenching.
Eden started to turn away when something else caught her eye. On the wall next to the corner were more pictures. They were neatly arranged around several newspaper headings and articles, each photo of the same, unknowing subject.
Though she was too far away to read the smaller print, Eden knew exactly who the articles were about. She could also easily make out the woman’s face in the photos. It was the same face she saw every time she looked in the mirror.
Bile rose in her throat as she realized The Liberator had been watching her for the past several days, and she’d never even known it.
A comment Sergeant Murphy made while they’d been going over the killer’s timeline the other day rang through Eden’s head. He’d mentioned their guy was escalating, which meant he was getting closer and closer to his end game.
Until this very moment, no one knew what that was. As Eden stared at the pictures of herself on that wall, she understood all too well.
It’s me. His endgame is me.
Terrified, she began pulling against the unforgiving restraints. The sharp edges cut into her skin, and she could feel the warm blood coating her wrists. Ignoring the pain, Eden continued to fight.
She was still pulling when a sudden onslaught of memories—other women’s memories—struck without warning. Whatever Josiah had put into her veins was wearing off, allowing her visions to break through.
She could see what they saw. She could feel the pure terror they’d felt. Soon, the pain and horror those women had experienced became too much, threatening to consume her like before.
Not again.
