Allison Brennan - Sudden Death

But they had known where she lived.

Suddenly, a chill slithered down Megan’s spine. For the first time she thought maybe there was something more going on here than simple revenge against the army and the Delta soldiers who Rosemont blamed for his captivity.

She called Hans to fill him in, but his voice mail picked up. Dammit. She dialed Jack’s number. He answered after the first ring. “Kincaid.”

“It’s Megan.”

He sighed audibly. “You okay?”

“Yes. I need to talk to Hans. Is he there?”

“We’re on a conference call with a profiler. My brother.”

“Oh. Good.”

“I can interrupt-”

“No, I’ll text him the information. I have a question for you. In February, around the tenth, were you and Scout on any mission out of the area?”

“Two short assignments, the first week of February we were in Honduras, the last week of February we were in Belize.”

“Thanks.”

“Why?”

“I’m just thinking about the timeline, why the killers jumped around when it would have been more efficient to kill their Texas targets first, then move to Nevada.”

“What about the witnesses?”

“They I.D.’d Rosemont. I’ll text Hans with the details.”

“When will you be back?”

Megan asked Officer Dodge their ETA. Her driver said, “An hour, maybe a bit more because of traffic as we get closer to Santa Barbara.”

“Did you hear that?” she asked Jack.

“Yes. Be careful.”

“I will. You too.”

Jack chuckled lightly. He wasn’t a man who laughed a lot, but when he did the humor in his voice was endearing and sexy at the same time. “I’ll watch my back, Blondie. And I want to watch yours, too, so get back quick. I’ll feel a lot better when you’re in my line of sight.”

She was still smiling as she e-mailed Hans the status of her investigation, and included the information about the Rubins and the woman who had claimed to be their daughter.

“I think this is our UNSUB. I know it’s a theory, but it’s the only thing that makes sense right now. She befriended Russo in order to learn where the Delta team members lived, then killed him and stole Price’s dog tag. The only thing I can’t figure out is why they sent me the dog tag. Me, specifically. Let’s talk when I get back.”

She hit Send and leaned back, closing her eyes briefly. Officer Dodge said, “I just called for a traffic update. It’s Friday; it’s always heavy with tourists. Take a nap if you want.”

“I don’t think I can sleep, but five minutes to think things through would be nice.”

“Feel free to bounce ideas off me. I’m pretty good with a puzzle.”

“Thanks.”

Megan turned her head and looked out the passenger window at the ocean beyond the cliffs, at the way the late-afternoon sun made the water shimmer like jewels. She frowned, knowing she was on the cusp of a solution, but fearing she was missing a critical piece of the puzzle.

Jack listened as Dillon asked questions over the speaker phone in the hotel conference room. He was impressed with his brother’s quick and intelligent analysis and thoughtful inquiries. He hadn’t seen Dil in action in two years, and he remembered that they were essentially in the same business. Jack gathered military intelligence to lay out a game plan; Dillon gathered psychological evidence.

“So Rosemont’s partner is female,” Dillon said after Hans laid out all the information they had to date.

“I’m ninety percent sure. There are no dead women in red dresses popping up, and unless there are three people involved-”

“I think you’re right,” Dillon said. “I have Rosemont’s medical records your partner had couriered to Quantico from New York-it’s the reason I was so late returning your call. I wanted to get a sense of who Rosemont was.”

“And?”

“I still need more information for any substantive profile. You went over the victimology and the timeline, but I’m curious about the Sacramento victim. George Price.”

“That’s the thing,” said Hans. “The vic wasn’t George Price. He’s a John Doe, homeless-was most likely a stranger to the killers.”

“But this John Doe just happened to have the identification of a man who fits the profile of the victims?” Dillon asked.

“We now believe that the killer planted Price’s dog tags on the victim, but I can’t figure out why,” Hans replied. “If the killers were more symbolic at the crime scene, it would make sense because they couldn’t get to Price-he’s AWOL. The military couldn’t find him, and our killers probably couldn’t either.”

Hans continued. “That’s one of the many things I’m struggling with. Price’s dog tag actually led us down the path we’re going, connecting the victims via their military records. No one had thought to check that with the first two victims because it wasn’t obvious they were both veterans. Then Rosemont sent one of Price’s tags to the FBI agent in charge of the investigation, as if to say, ‘In case you haven’t figured out this is important, let me shove this under your nose.’”

“But why did they choose Sacramento of all the cities in America to plant Price’s tags on a body? Wait … did you say that the killers sent Price’s dog tag directly to one of your FBI agents?”

“Megan Elliott, supervisor of the Violent Crimes Squad. I thought maybe it was a sign that he wanted to be stopped, but … now I don’t know.”

“What about a copycat killer?” Dillon asked.

“I don’t think so,” answered Hans. “Rosemont was found with a medical bag of the needles he used to torture his victims. The hamstring injuries are consistent with the same type of knife, though the knife is missing and is presumed to have been taken by the accomplice. But this is the thing, Dillon: Rosemont killed two innocent civilians at a rest stop. No apparent reason, he just shot them point-blank. Now he’s dead, and I can’t even ask him why. A married couple. She was eight months pregnant.” His voice cracked on the word.

“Hans?”

Jack watched Hans’s face as it went through myriad gut-wrenching emotions, then the agent rubbed his eyes and looked down at the table. Suddenly, Hans’s odd behavior for the last two days made more sense. Jack said nothing, but filed the information away.

“Let’s retrace what happened in Hidalgo when Jack’s buddy Scout was killed,” said Dillon. “Was there something different about that crime scene, inconsistent with the first three?”

“Everything on the surface appeared to be the same,” Hans said, “but I didn’t see the crime scene. I have the reports from the Rangers, and they read like it could be any of the other scenes. Putting aside the rest-stop murders and General Hackett, it was the Sacramento crime scene that was different from the others because of the planted dog tags.”

“But there was also one other thing different in Hidalgo,” Jack interjected. “My friend Frank Cardenas, a priest, had been on the mission where Rosemont was abducted, yet Rosemont killed Scout and not Frank.”

“You know this priest well, Jack?” Dillon asked.

“Yes,” Jack said, his voice clipped. Everyone was suspicious.

Hans said, “Cardenas hasn’t left Hidalgo in months, and there’s been no evident contact with Rosemont. Cardenas’s involvement doesn’t fit with what I know about him. And it goes back to motive. Cardenas doesn’t have one. Who does?”

“After the Hidalgo murder, you noticed a change?”

“The first four murders were well planned, methodical, disciplined,” said Hans. “The last three-the two civilians and General Hackett-were rash, disorganized, impulsive. Though Rosemont came prepared to torture Hackett, I don’t see how he possibly thought he’d get away with it, even with the privacy of the cabin. He registered under a variation of his name, was captured on the lobby security camera. After that, it would have been only a matter of time before he was identified and stopped.”