Cynthia Eden - Into The Night

Because she still carried his “work” on her body. And in her mind. In the dark chambers that she fought so hard to keep closed.

But now I’ve found you, Daniel. You won’t get away again.

Tucker rose and came around the table toward her as she fumbled with her laptop. “Macey...” His voice was pitched low so that only she could hear him. “Are you sure you want to be the one going after him? Believe me on this...sometimes confronting the demons from your past doesn’t free you. It just pulls you deeper into the darkness.”

Her hands stilled on her laptop. She looked into Tucker’s eyes and saw the sympathy that filled his stare. If anyone would know about darkness, it would be Tucker. She lifted her chin, hoping she looked confident. “I want to put this particular darkness in a cell and make sure he never gets out.”

He nodded, but the heaviness never left his expression. “If you and Bowen hit trouble, call in the rest of the team, got it? We always watch out for each other.”

Yes, they did.

She put her laptop into her bag. Tucker filed out of the room, but Samantha lingered near the doorway. Bowen wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Macey figured that he must have slipped away while she was talking to Tucker. Clutching her bag, she headed toward Samantha.

“How many victims do you think he’s claimed?” Samantha’s voice was quiet as she asked the question that haunted Macey.

Every single night...when she wondered where Daniel was...when she wondered if he had another patient trapped on his table. How many? “We know he killed five patients before he took me.” They’d found their remains in that hospital, hidden behind a makeshift wall in the basement. Daniel had made his own crypt for those poor people. He’d killed them, and then he’d sealed them away.

“He’s been missing for several years,” Macey continued. Her heart drummed too fast in her chest.

“And serial killers don’t just stop, not cold turkey.” Samantha tilted her head as she studied Macey. “He might have experienced a cooling-off period, but he wouldn’t have been able to give up committing the murders. He would have needed the rush that he got when he took a life.”

How many victims? “I don’t know how many,” Macey whispered. And, because she trusted Samantha, because Samantha was more than just her boss—she was her friend—Macey said, “I’m afraid to find out.”

Because every one of those victims would be on her. After all, Macey was the one who hadn’t stopped him. She’d run away from him, so terrified, and when she’d fled, he’d escaped.

And lived to kill another day.

Samantha’s hand rose and she squeezed Macey’s shoulder. “You didn’t hurt those people—none of those people.”

“I ran away.” She licked her lips.

“You survived. You were a victim then. That’s what you were supposed to do—survive.”

She wasn’t a victim any longer. “I’m an FBI agent now.”

“Yes.” Samantha held her gaze. “And he won’t get away again.”

No, he damn well wouldn’t.

After a quick planning talk with Samantha, Macey slipped into the hallway and hurried toward her small office. As always, their floor was busy, a hum of activity, and she could hear the rise and fall of voices in the background. She kept her head down and soon she was in her office, shutting the door behind her—

“I would have helped you.”

Macey sucked in a sharp breath. Bowen stood next to the sole window in the small room, his gaze on the city below. His hands were clasped behind his back, and she could see the bulk of his weapon and holster beneath the suit jacket he wore.

She put her laptop down on the desk. “Samantha said we should be ready to fly in an hour. She’s giving us the FBI’s jet to use—”

He turned toward her. “Do you trust me, Mace?”

Mace. That was the nickname he’d adopted for her, and half the time, she wasn’t even sure that he realized he was changing her name. But...it was softer when he said “Mace” and not “Macey.” For some reason, she usually felt good when he used that nickname.

She didn’t feel good right then. Do you trust me? Was that a trick question? She frowned at him. “You’re my partner. I have to trust you.” Or else they’d both be screwed. She was supposed to watch his back, and he was supposed to watch hers. It was pretty much the only way the FBI worked.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he considered her. “I have to ask... What will happen if you come face-to-face with Daniel Haddox?”

She stared up at him, but for a moment, she didn’t see Bowen. She saw Daniel. Smiling. His eyes gleaming. And a scalpel in his hand. The scalpel was covered in her blood.

Bowen’s square jaw hardened. “We’re on this team because Samantha thinks our connections to killers give us special insight into serial crimes. We’re not here because we’re trying to follow our own personal agendas.”

Hurt, she took a step back. “My agenda?” Anger hummed in her blood and, just that fast, she didn’t see Daniel any longer. She just saw Bowen. Bowen with his handsome face, his dark eyes, his strong jaw—a jaw that was currently clenched. Bowen with his broad shoulders and his athletic build. Bowen...the guy she’d thought would understand, more than anyone else, exactly why she had to do this. “You’re the man who hunted a serial and killed him. You’re the one who went out for your own justice, not me.”

He looked away from her. “There are things you don’t know...”

Because Bowen wasn’t exactly the sharing sort. That was fine, neither was she. “I’m not going up there to kill him.”

Now he turned his stare back on her.

“Isn’t that what this whole trust talk is about?” She tugged on her right sleeve, making sure it was perfectly in place, as always. She didn’t like for anyone to see her scars. When people saw them, they tended to just—stare. And stare. And then to look at her with sympathy or horror. “You want to know what my plans are? Do you want to know if I’m going up there so that I can exact some vengeance on the man who tried to kill me?” Her words hung in the air between them.

He was supposed to say something.

He didn’t.

Damn it. He did want to know all that.

“Samantha trusts me.” So maybe she emphasized trust a bit too much there. “You should, too. I’m going up there to stop a killer. I’m not going to Hiddlewood so that I can become one.”

He took a step closer to her. “Is that what you think I am? Do you look at me and see a killer?”

She thought she’d lost control of the conversation. Total control. She smoothed a hand over her hair. “No, look...we need to get packed, okay? There’s a lot of work to do and not a lot of time. I’ll just—I’ll see you on the jet.” Macey backed away from him.

She started checking her desk, grabbing any notes she needed and trying to look anywhere but at Bowen as she heard him pace toward the door.

But he didn’t leave her office. At her door, he stilled. She knew because she’d snuck a quick glance at him. He filled her doorway, his broad back tense, and his hands on the door frame. He didn’t look back at her as he said, “I hate that he hurt you.”

Join the club. I hate that he got away. I hate that he’s killed someone else. Maybe a whole lot of people. I hate it so much that it makes me sick.

“You aren’t the only one who has been looking for him,” Bowen rasped. “You think I haven’t been searching for the bastard, too?”

Surprise rocked through her. “Samantha assigned you to his case?” Sometimes they did look into the colder cases but—

“No.” He’d finally glanced over his shoulder. “This has nothing to do with Samantha or the rest of the team. It’s about you. He hurt you. And I want him to pay. So I’ve been looking for the bastard. I’ve been hunting him.” His lips curved in a humorless smile. “You just found him first.”