“Ah, god.” Eric felt his knees start to give out, but Derek was there to hold him up. “Baby, no!”
The bastard had carved the Roman numeral thirteen into her delicate skin. Just like he had the rest of his victims.
Beside him, Derek let out a string of curse words. This was followed by Eric’s unit—Riley’sunit—expressing their disbelief and rage.
“That motherfucker!”
“Swear to Christ, when we find that bastard...”
“He’s a fucking dead man!”
Eric didn’t know for sure who said what, because he wasn’t really listening. All he could do was stare at the picture and wonder...was she still alive when it was taken?
Is she even alive, now?
There was only one way to know for sure, and that was to find her. The only waythatwas going to happen was if he got his head out of his ass and starting thinking like the cop he was.
Eric knew what needed to be done. But knowing and doing were two very different things.
She’d do it for you.
Hell yeah, she would. Riley was the best detective he’d ever worked with. If the situation were reversed, she’d go to hell and back to find him.
And that was exactly what he was going to do for her.
“Can you trace the message?” He looked to Derek. “Find out where the text originated from?”
A slow grin spread across his brother’s face. “Welcome back, brother. My computer’s in the car.” He slapped Eric on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
With the rest of the group following behind, Eric and Derek led the others out the building and to the vehicles in which they came.
They all stood around one of the SUV’s hoods while Derek connected Eric’s phone to his computer. His brow furrowed as his fingers flew across the keyboard. A minute later, he smacked the hood of the car.
“Damn it!”
Eric’s stomach dropped. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s a burner. And a good one.” His brother glanced up at him. “I’m sorry. There’s no way to tell where the phone is.”
It was a long shot, at best, but still. The hope he’d felt was the last little sliver he’d had left.
Eric’s eyes slid to the computer screen. He wanted to throw it and the phone across the damn lot. Better yet, he wanted to pull out his gun, point it at the screen, and—
“Wait.” He took a step closer. Pointing to an area next to Riley’s bare arm, he asked, “Can you zoom in on this part, right here.”
“Sure.” Derek pressed a few buttons, and the image blew up to several times its original size.
Eric stared at the pattern on the blanket Riley was laying on. It was a simple, gray and white pinstripe pattern that could belong to anyone, anywhere. But...
It doesn’t belong to just anyone. It belongs to me.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What?” Derek looked over at him. “What are you thinking?”
Eric pointed to the image. “I think he’s in my fucking apartment.”
