Joe Killer.
I glance back at my phone, in my right hand, then back at his, in my left hand.
Joe Killer’s red dot is blinking in the same spot as Callie’s blue dot.
“Why the actual fuck is Joe Killer showing in the same location as Callie?” There’s a ringing sound in my ears that makes it difficult to focus on what Noah says in response. I feel like I’m floating above myself, being taken away on a wave of adrenaline.
The truck jolts forward, and Noah swears under his breath.
He knows the assignment.
Get to Callie as soon as possible, because she’s with a serial killer.
I focus on my breathing. My brother reaches over and squeezes my arm. The contact brings me back to the truck, and I fight to push the panic down. It won’t help Callie.
Why did I let her walk away? I should’ve refused to leave her side, even when she pushed me. I should’ve at least stayed close and protected her. No one’severprotected her, and I just proved myself to be another useless man in her life who let her get hurt, when all I ever wanted to do was to keep her safe.
“Fuck!” I grind my teeth together. “Is it just some terrible coincidence that Joe Killer is targeting Callie? Did he know we were tracking him?” Even as the words come out, I know they aren’t true. I can’t quite make the connection. I’m almost there.
“No. It’s not.”
“Why is Joe Killer in Portland?” I drop my phone in my lap and clench and unclench my fists. My entire body is tingling, and I recognize it as spiked adrenaline ebbing in my veins as I fight back a full-blown panic attack.
“I have a theory.” Noah’s voice is low and dangerous.
“What, Noah?” I don’t know how he can sound so calm when everything is falling apart. “Fucking spit it out.”
“Okay. Check Shane’s car location.”
I click the box for Shane’s car tracker on my app, and his vehicle appears all the way down in New York City, where it’s supposed to be.
My brain is slowly connecting the dots. I don’t want to understand what Noah apparently already does. I block it out and squeeze my eyes shut.
“And?” Noah asks.
“He’s in New York.” But it’s not true, is it?
“Hiscaris in New York.”
“Noah.” I push aside the cloud of denial and let the truth crash into me.
“Shane Robertson is Joe Killer,” Noah says simply. The car jolts forward again as Noah pushes the pickup truck even faster.
I let out a roar, and Noah swears under his breath.
“Did you have any idea?” I’m gripping the car door, willing the vehicle to fly and get to Callie faster.
“No.” Noah shakes his head.
Both of us contemplate what it means that we didn’t catch on to this.
“And he’s got Callie,” I finish my understanding of the truth with words that drive a stake of horror and fear through my heart. Shane is Joe Killer, and he has Callie in a remote location with her phone off. “Drive faster.”
Noah does.
Chapter 40
The Worst Kind of Bad
