Allison Brennan - Fear No Evil

When he’d finally suggested she see a psychiatrist so she could deal with her grief, she’d said, “I don’t want to let it go. It keeps Justin in the small part of my heart that still beats.”

Doctors should never counsel their own family. If they found Lucy, he could help with her immediate needs, but he would have to send her to someone else to heal.

When they found her. Because they would. They had to.

“What’s she like?” Jack asked quietly.

“She’s sassy. Smart. She has a scholarship to Georgetown. Knows four languages fluently and thrives in debate. Beautiful. Kind. She has a mouth on her, but what Kincaid doesn’t?” Dillon smiled sadly. Lucy had their parents wrapped around her little finger, but her elder siblings received the brunt of her sarcasm.

“Why did you walk away from the family, Jack?”

“I had my reasons.”

“Are they still valid?”

“My business, Dil.”

“As always, Jack.”

They sat in silent anger for several minutes and Jack changed the subject. “What do you know about this guy who has Lucy?”

“Not enough. I haven’t met him. Psychiatry isn’t a hard science. We base our interpretations on experience, facts, and personality, but human beings all react differently to stimuli.”

“I get that.”

“Trask is sexually damaged. I don’t think he can truly enjoy sex without hurting or killing the woman in the process. He hates women, but I also think he fears them and the power they have or could have over him. It’s deep and long-standing. Something happened to him in his youth, by an authority figure, possibly his mother. It twisted sex in his head.”

“So it’s his parents’ fault?” Jack didn’t hide the contempt in his voice.

Dillon took a deep breath. Hadn’t he just gone through this with Kate? “I didn’t say that. I’m trying to understand Trask. If I can understand him, then I can use that knowledge to stop him. Serial killers often have abnormal childhoods. Not all of them, but a huge percentage. Yet there are other children who are abused and lead tragic childhoods who never grow up to rape or kill. Trask would have showed signs of sociopathy from an early age. His parents may not have recognized it. The FBI notes on him indicate that he likely has a genius-level IQ. He has proven his intelligence by hiding his identity, his whereabouts, his Internet feed.”

“Why Lucy?” Jack asked. “I mean, out of all the teenagers in the country, why her?”

Dillon hadn’t thought about that. He’d been so focused on Trask and finding Lucy, he hadn’t dwelled on a victim analysis.

“I don’t know. They met online, he was prowling for someone. But Lucy might fit some profile only he knows about.”

“What about the other victims? Are they all young and dark-haired?”

“They’re all young, under thirty except for the FBI agent he killed.” Dillon mentally reviewed the files. “They run the gamut from Caucasian to light-skinned Latinas. Brunettes, blondes, a redhead.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s an equal-opportunity killer.”

Kate stared at the link that popped up on her computer.

Click me, Kate.

She knew it was from Trask. She didn’t want to click it. She had to.

The grainy video was of Connor Kincaid running into a cabin. There was a body on the floor. Patrick Kincaid came in behind him. Quinn Peterson was standing right inside the door throwing out soundless orders. Get out , he mouthed. A moment later, a bright flash, then nothing.

She dry heaved, her hand to her mouth. “No,” she cried.

Hello, Kate.

She wanted to put her fist through the screen. Instead, she typed,

Bastard.

She almost heard his laugh through cyberspace.

Sticks and stones. You’ve come very close, Kate. I’ll tell you how close but you have to promise me you won’t bring anyone with you.

I don’t need anyone else to kill you.

You humor me, Kate, darling.

Let Lucy go and I’ll come. Alone.

Tsk, tsk. You think I trust you? I’ll let Lucy go when I see you.

You think I trust you?

No. You can’t trust me, Kate. But you already know that. Would you willingly trade places with Lucy to save her?

She answered without hesitation.

Yes.

I’m looking forward to killing you, Kate.

I’m looking forward to killing you, asshole.

There was a long pause and Kate feared she’d lost him. And there was no guarantee that he would let Lucy go, even if she did meet him.

She had to find his island and go in quietly. Unfortunately time wasn’t on her side. It was dark right now, but the odds that she could find and get to the island before sunrise were not in her favor. A rescue in broad daylight? Virtually impossible. And there would be very few hours of dark left before the kill if she waited twenty-four hours.

“Dammit! What rock are you hiding under, Trask?”

Her computer beeped.

Go back to time stamp 41:17:50. I had to manually reset my location because your program hit it. The data is all there. You’re good, Kate. But I’m better.

“What are you reading?”

Dillon walked in without knocking. Had she left the door unlocked? With a tap on her keyboard, the onscreen text disappeared.

She didn’t want to deceive Dillon, but she had no choice. If Trask knew she was working with someone, he’d change the rules. He had never jumped the countdown, but under pressure…? She didn’t know what he was capable of.

Yes, she did. He was capable of anything.

“Just checking my programs,” she said.

“I’m sorry I stormed out like that.”

“No apology necessary.”

She pictured the video of his brothers walking into the trap. Her heart ached. She couldn’t tell him, not like this. And Quinn…could they have survived the explosion? Was anyone left to get them off the damn island? Quinn was a seasoned agent, surely he had backup.

Her stomach flipped. She’d sent them the information. It didn’t matter how many warnings she issued with it, how loud she screamed that it could be a trap, it was still her info and her fault those men walked into that cabin.

After last year, she was surprised they’d gone in at all. Two years, two traps. But what about now? What about her communication with Trask? Would they…could they…believe her?

And Trask had to know she’d sent the FBI that tip about the island. He’d had it rigged. He’d given her the false coordinates on purpose. From the beginning, he’d been monitoring her every step. He knew what she had done, who she talked to, where she had sent them. Trask would be expecting the cavalry when she showed up wherever he sent her. Unless he was orchestrating this charade all along. Feed her data, she cries wolf, the feds go in…nothing. Or a trap. And the girl still dies. Eventually her people would stop believing her.

Her mind was going in circles, but one thing was for sure: she couldn’t tell Dillon about his brothers. It would tip her hand that she’d been in communication with Trask. And how could she explain that? Not until she knew more about when and where he wanted to meet, and what she could do to protect Lucy.

“You’re under just as much stress as I am. Perhaps more.”

“I’m okay.”

He looked at her oddly. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. Right now I need to find my sister. What is your program telling you?”

“It’s still working.”

Frustration crossed his face and it took all of Kate’s willpower not to tell him about her conversation with Trask.

“You’re a computer whiz. Can you break into the Stonebridge Academy ’s computer system?”

“I don’t know.” She wanted to look at her data at the time stamp Trask had just told her about.