“So, you’ve murdered before?” She glanced over at Rory who sat staring at the man before them as though he were a monster. And he was.
She felt sick to her stomach over his revelations. But at the same time, she wanted to keep him talking. If he was talking he wasn’t hurting Rory. Or her.
“I think I’m up to fifteen in total. I keep moving around and changing things up. Stops people from connecting the dots. In Connecticut, I murdered older, single women. I put a pillow over their faces as they slept.”
“I remember those murders.”
God, she had to get them out of here. But how?
He stood and pulled out some rope. “Now, I’m afraid I have to leave you, darling. I need to check my traps in case anyone thinks of coming up this way. But don’t worry, I know you’ll be here waiting when I return.”
When she saw the ropes, she actually felt a flicker of hope. Because she wasn’t afraid of rope. Lacey had dealt with her love of being bound like she did everything else in her life, with a lot of research. And part of that research had entailed how to get free if you were ever bound against your will. Not that she’d thought Gray would do that, but she’d felt she needed to be thorough.
“Place your hands above your head.” Pretending to be compliant, she raised her hands over her head, twisting her wrists and placing the knuckles of each hand together. She prayed he wouldn’t wonder at the odd position. But he didn’t say a word, just bound her wrists together.
He moved back to stare down at her. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”
“I don’t want you to hurt me. Or Rory.”
He snorted as he glared over at the other girl. “That useless piece of shit doesn’t deserve your consideration. A waste of air.”
Rory whimpered, and Lacey cringed. He moved down to her feet and she tensed, trying to keep as much room between her ankles as she could as he bound them.
When he stood, he was smiling. “Now, you wait right here. I’ll be back soon.”
She couldn’t wait.
***
“Here. There she is.” Gray pointed at the screen in front of him, watching as Lacey ran through the park. It was clear she was upset, even from a distance. The cameras that were placed throughout the park followed her until she came to a complete stop and bent over. Someone approached her, dressed in a large coat and holding out a cup as though begging for money. Then he reached out his hand and she slumped forward.
“Bastard drugged her,” Travis muttered.
The guy pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her from head to toe.
“It’s him,” Gray said. “Fuck, he took her in the middle of a public park. He obviously isn’t afraid of us figuring out who he is.”
“Or he thinks we won’t,” Alexa said. “Alan Stone, forty-four, is the reclusive, anonymous author of several books. Guess what genre he writes?”
“About serial killers?” Travis asked darkly.
“Bingo. Murder mysteries, usually involving serial killers. Writes under a pseudonym which he probably thinks keeps him safe. However, the IRS knows his real name, and now so do we.”
Had she hacked the IRS? Gray decided he didn’t want to know. Besides, he had more pressing things to worry about right now.
“Other than that one photo in a newspaper ten years ago, I haven’t found any other photos of him. Not even a drivers license.”
“Okay, so the guy thinks we can’t find him.” Travis paced back and forth. “That could work in our favor. Anything else?”
“Yeah.” She glanced up at him with a smug grin. “I did a search around for property under his name, nothing popped up. So, I did a search under a few of his characters. In his first book, the serial killer is called Angus Arthur. Stupid name. But guess who owns a cabin in the Harriman area? You guessed it, Angus Arthur.” Now, Gray just had to pray like hell they got to this guy before he killed his sister or Lacey. Just the thought of it made his stomach roll.
“Let’s go,” he said grimly.
***
When he was gone, she leaned back, her whole body shaking with relief and racing adrenaline. Her breath was coming too fast, and she forced herself to take a deep breath in and then let it out slowly. She didn’t know how much time she had, and they had to be gone before he got back.
She began with her wrists, turning them, creating some space so she could hopefully slip her hand free. Then she started moving her ankles. Not as much room there. Damn it.