Every muscle in his body locked down.
“I was at Christy’s grave earlier...so I think...it must be the same man from the cemetery,” Jill continued, her voice strained. “I thought he was there to rob me, but...”
“He came tonight to kill you.” Brutal words, but if the man had broken into her home with a gun... Hayden’s control snapped. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders again and yanked her close. “I should have been there.”
“Hayden...”
“You just came back. And I could have lost you already.” Hell, no. No. This wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t let it happen. “We’re finding that sicko, and I’m going to make sure that he never hurts you again.”
* * *
THE TRACKS WERE found near dawn, when the streaks of light crept across the sky and showed where the motorcycle had slipped off the road. The guy had been good, Jill would give him that much. He’d hidden the bike behind the dunes to make it harder to spot. The shifting sands had already blown over part of the line that had been left by the motorcycle’s tires.
He must have walked away after he’d ditched the bike, but the sand was perfectly smooth as it led to the water. No sign of his footprints.
He knew those would be gone by dawn.
They’d been searching the area all night. Hayden had made sure she got shoes, and she’d made sure she was involved in the hunt. But despite their efforts, they hadn’t come across the intruder. Maybe that was because he hadn’t been on land. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at those waves.
Hayden was at her side, silent, angry. She could feel the frustration rolling off him.
“This man knows the town,” Jill said. Not just the town...the whole area. He knew the private beaches, he knew the back roads. He knew the water.
They weren’t looking for some drifter.
“The fact that he mentioned Christy, that he came for me...” Jill turned to stare at Hayden. “I think—”
“We’re going to pay a visit to the Anderson family,” he said.
Her stomach tightened. A trip to visit the Andersons had been on her agenda even before this madness had started. Christy’s father had been so angry with her years ago, and when she’d been a teen and their paths had crossed in town, he’d always stared at her with such a cold, hard gaze.
She knew he hated her.
But...
Was he enraged enough to have come after her with a gun?
Chapter Six
The Andersons still lived at 1509 Sea Breeze Way. Jill climbed out of Hayden’s car—his patrol car, not his SUV, he’d switched vehicles since he was on official business—and she slammed the door shut as she stared up at the house. It was clean, perfectly tidy with neatly trimmed hedges and a well-swept sidewalk. The house appeared to have been freshly painted white, and the shutters were a light blue to match the ocean.
From the outside, it looked like such a happy home. Such a normal place.
She knew just how deceiving appearances could truly be. She’d walked up to too many houses—ordinary houses just like the one at 1509 Sea Breeze Way—and found monsters living inside.
“Jill?”
She shook her head and glanced over at Hayden. He was wearing his sheriff’s uniform. The badge shone in the light. They’d been up for most of the night and a line of dark stubble coated his jaw. He looked strong and...sexy.
And she really shouldn’t be noticing that fact right then. She had enough to deal with as it was.
“You okay?” He moved to her side. His head cocked as he studied her. “For a minute there, I could have sworn that you were a million miles away.”
Because she had been. “Sometimes, houses look perfect. Lives look perfect.” She shook her head. “But they aren’t.”
He glanced back at the Andersons’ house.
“In the case file, there were only minimal notes about her family. Peek never interrogated the father or mother. He just got general details from them about Christy, what she was wearing, what she’d done right before her disappearance...” Her words trailed away, and Jill pressed her hands to the top of her thighs. She wore dress pants and a crisp white shirt...what Jill thought of as her FBI gear. A light coat hid her holster. When working a case, it was standard protocol for agents to dress a certain way, and she’d gotten into the habit of almost arming herself with the clothing.
“You think they should have been interrogated?”
A curtain moved inside of the house. Someone was watching them. “Every case that CARD works...we always question the family.” They were the starting point. And often, they were the very first suspects. “The first time I worked a case as an official CARD team member, I was looking for an eight-year-old boy who’d gone missing from his house in Birmingham, Alabama. His mother said that someone had come in during the night and taken him. There were signs of a struggle and his bedroom window was found open.” Her hand lifted and, this time, her fingers pressed to her heart. It had started to ache. “Thirty minutes after we started to interview the mom, we noticed the inconsistencies in her story.”
“Hell.”
She pressed harder against her chest. “We found his body in the shed.”
He caught her hand. Pulled her close. “I’m so sorry, Jill.”
“Monsters,” she whispered, blinking away the tears. “They’re everywhere. I thought I’d join the FBI and save people, but that isn’t happening, and I don’t know what I—” She broke off because the door to 1509 Sea Breeze Way had just opened. “This isn’t the right time,” she said, her voice as soft as the wind blowing against them. “They’re watching.”
Hayden slowly turned toward the house. He moved so that his body was in front of hers, a deliberate position, she knew. A protective one. Some things never change. Jill swiped her hands over her cheeks, but the skin was dry. She hadn’t let the tears fall.
She couldn’t remember the last time they’d fallen.
I didn’t cry when we lost Jessica. I stared at the ambulance with dry eyes. I didn’t cry when I talked to her family. I was just...too numb.
That was how she felt most days. Numb.
But...she didn’t feel numb when Hayden was near her.
“You shouldn’t be sheriff.” The words were angry as they spewed from the man standing in that doorway.
Hayden gave a grim nod. “Hello, Mr. Anderson. Nice to see you, too.”
A grunt came from Theodore Anderson.
Jill slipped to Hayden’s side so that she could study the other man. Theodore Anderson was tall, still fit, but his blond hair had thinned. He was dressed in faded jeans and a loose sweatshirt. The lines on his face were deep, and his lips were pulled down in a frown as he gazed at Hayden.
“You aren’t qualified for the job. I don’t care what kind of war hero crap you pulled overseas,” Theodore snapped. “Your father was a bum, a criminal who deserved exactly what he got, and you have no place—”
Hayden lifted his hand, stopping the guy’s snarled words. “I am the sheriff here, and it would be wise to speak to me with a little more respect.”
Theodore’s face flashed red.
“I know you haven’t had an easy time of things,” Hayden said, voice curt, “but you need to calm yourself down, right now.”
Theodore’s chin jerked up. “What do you want?”
Hayden glanced at Jill, then he looked back at Theodore. “We have some questions for you.”
“Questions? About what?” But Theodore’s gaze had slid to Jill and he stared at her suspiciously. She didn’t see recognition in his stare, not yet, his eyes were narrowed as they locked on her face.
“This FBI agent is following up on Christy’s disappearance,” Hayden said.
He hadn’t told Theodore her name. Why? Did he think he was protecting
her?
She wasn’t going to hide. Jill cleared her throat and stepped forward. “I’m FBI Agent Jillian West.”
And there it was. The recognition, flooding his face and turning his eyes cold and angry in a flash. His jaw locked and he glared at her with pure hate in his eyes. “Get off my property.”
“Mr. Anderson, I’m investigating Christy’s disappearance.” The fact that the joker who’d taken a shot at her had mentioned Christy, well, that had just made her more determined than ever to find out the truth. “I’d like to ask you some questions about her last day with you.”
“Why the hell are you digging that up now? Christy is gone!” His eyes glittered. “Dead and buried in the Jamison Cemetery.”
“Yes, about that,” Hayden murmured as he cocked his head and studied the other man. “When was the last time you were at that cemetery?”
“I go every week,” Theodore fired back. “I make sure my daughter’s grave is clean. That she is taken care of. I didn’t take care of her while she was alive, but I will damn well do it while she’s dead.”
He doesn’t just blame me for Christy’s death. He blames himself, too. Jill could see that.
“And the date of your last visit was...?” Hayden asked.
“Yesterday. I go every Saturday, okay?”
So he’d just admitted to being there, the same day that someone had been watching her. The same day someone tried to run me down.
“Did you happen to see anyone while you were there?” Hayden’s voice was mild.
“Why in the hell are you asking that?” Theodore shook his head. “No, I didn’t see anyone. It was just me, got it? I swept her grave off, I put down fresh flowers and I left.” Theodore took an aggressive step toward them. “FBI special agent,” he said, lips twisting in distaste. “You think I haven’t heard the stories about you, too? You go out there, you get your name in the papers and you—”
“And I try to bring home the children who were taken.” She kept her voice calm with an effort. “I try to find children like Christy who were stolen from their families and I try to bring them back home, safe and sound so that their parents don’t have to go and visit cemeteries every single week.”
For an instant, his face crumpled.
“I’m in Hope for a little while, and I wanted to see if I could use my resources to bring closure to Christy’s case.”
His lips were trembling.
“I want to find the man who hurt her. I know you blame me for what happened to her—”
He turned away from Jill. “Hard to look at you,” he rasped.
“Mr. Anderson—”
“Hard to look at you...because Christy would’ve been your age. I see you and I see everything I lost.” He still wasn’t looking at her. Maybe he couldn’t, not any longer. “I see you...and I’m always reminded you came home, and she didn’t.”
His grief was heavy in the air.
His shoulders hunched. “My wife...she left me a few years back. Said she couldn’t take it any longer. No more living with Christy’s ghost, the pain was too much for her. She moved up to Washington. Took my son with her but he came back at least. Kurt’s staying with me now. He’s all I have left.”
“I want to find her killer,” Jill told him. “But I need your help.”
Theodore still wasn’t looking at her. “Peek said the guy was a drifter. In town probably just for the weekend. Took you, but you got away. So he took my Christy. Killed her and was long gone even before we found the body.”
“That is one option.” Jill shared a long glance with Hayden. “But there are others.” Especially in light of her late-night visitor.
Theodore turned to frown at her. “What do you think happened?”
“I don’t think a man like this would just kill one girl and never target anyone else again.”
He backed up a step. His gaze fell.
“He took me, I got away, so he immediately acted again.” Her lips pressed together. “I think it’s fair to say he could have other victims out there, too. Back when he killed Christy, it was harder for authorities to connect the dots, especially when killers went across state lines or when they chose victims who had different ages or sexes. It was harder to piece together profiles because all of the information was so scattered.”
Theodore swiped his hand over his face. She noticed that his fingers trembled.
“I want to help Christy. That’s why I need to talk to you about the day she went missing. I want to know if you saw anything or anyone who was suspicious. If Christy mentioned anyone watching her. If she—”
“She was a good girl. She went to softball practice first thing that morning. She rode away on her bike.” He glanced toward the garage. “And she never came back home. Her bike...it was found on the side of the road. Just left behind and she was gone. No one saw anything.” His chin trembled as his stare jerked back to Hayden. “There was no one to race after my girl.”
Hayden’s hands had fisted.
“She died alone and that fact haunts me every single day of my life. I can hear her, in my mind.” He tapped his temple. “I think she probably cried for me. And I wasn’t there. I couldn’t help her... I wasn’t there.”
“Mr. Anderson—” Jill began.
He shook his head. “I need you to leave. I don’t... I just can’t talk to you any more now.” His voice wasn’t angry. He just suddenly seemed very, very tired.
She needed his help but she couldn’t force his cooperation. Jill pulled a discrete white card from her pocket. She stepped toward him and held out the card. “This is my contact information. If you change your mind, please call me.”
His gaze lingered on the card, but he made no move to take it.
“With or without your cooperation, I plan to continue my investigation.” Because obviously, there was a lot for her to learn in that town. She didn’t lower her hand. She kept that card extended.
The seconds ticked by. Then his hand reached up and he snatched the card from her. He turned, his movements angry and jerky and—he stilled. “I know you were there that day.”
Jill looked back at Hayden. He was staring at Theodore Anderson, with his eyes narrowed and his face locked in tight lines.
“When I came to your grandmother’s house, drunk, desperate, I know you were there.” His hand had curled tightly around her card, crumpling it.
A car’s engine rumbled and Jill saw a big, sleek vehicle pull to a stop near Hayden’s patrol car. A tall man with sandy-blond hair and wide shoulders jumped from the fancy car. “Dad?” The man’s voice rose. “Dad, what’s happening? What’s wrong?”
But Theodore didn’t look at the man who was rushing toward him. “When I came to that house, I said you should have died in her place.”
She didn’t let herself flinch.
“It was wrong, and I knew it...”
“Dad?”
Jill knew the man staring at them in confusion was Christy’s older brother, Kurt. He’d been in class with Hayden. A quiet, intense boy with bright blue eyes.
“What’s happening here?” Kurt demanded once more.
“It’s still wrong,” Theodore whispered. “But I still... I feel the same way. I wish you were in the ground and my Christy was here with me.” Then he shuffled up the steps that led back to his house.
Her heart was squeezing in her chest.
Kurt moved to follow his father, and then he stopped, glaring at Hayden. “Okay, Hayden, tell me what is going on.”
Jill swallowed. “We’re investigating Christy’s death.”
His eyes sharpened on her. “Jill?” Shock deepened his voice.
She gave him a tight smile. “Hello, Kurt. It’s been a long time.” As if following his father’s lead, he’d never spoken to her much in school. In fact, he’d
seemed to take deliberate pains to avoid her.
His focus jumped between her and Hayden. “You brought her to see my dad? ’Cause you thought that was a good idea?” His skepticism was clear.
“It was my idea,” Jill said before Hayden could answer. “I wanted to talk to Mr. Anderson about the day Christy disappeared.”
Kurt raked his hand through his hair. “Right. Let’s just rub salt in that wound, why don’t we?” He shook his head. “Christy is buried. Just let her rest in peace.”
She was stunned by that answer. “Don’t you want to find her killer?”
“My father is one year and seven months sober. One year. Seven months. I just got him back. I didn’t plan on losing everyone in my family, but that’s what happened when Christy was found on that beach. My whole world splintered apart.” He heaved out a breath. “So just let it all go, got it? The past is dead and buried. Leave Christy alone.”
You should have left Christy Anderson alone.
A chill skated down her spine.
Kurt hurried up the steps and followed his father inside of the house. She turned back to Hayden. His jaw had locked.
“They’re not going to help, Jill,” he said softly.
He was right but... “That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.”
His lips hitched into that little half smile of his. The smile that always made her feel a bit warmer. “No, I didn’t think that you would.”
* * *
“ARE THEY GONE?” Theodore Anderson demanded.
Kurt peered through the window. He’d eased the curtains back just a bit so he could see outside. “They’re getting into the patrol car now.” Hayden had opened the passenger side door for Jill, and when she passed the sheriff, he noticed the guy’s hand lingered just a moment on her arm.
Still as obsessed with her as ever. Everyone had known that truth in school. Hayden Black loved Jill West. The two had been inseparable. Until Hayden walked away from Jill. Most folks still didn’t even know he’d left her. But Hayden had gone off to be all he could be, and Jill...
FBI special agent Jill West. “She just wants to help,” he said, feeling sad for her. For them all.