Kate sat on the edge of her cot, squeezed her eyes shut, and rubbed her temples. Dillon resisted the urge to rub the tension from her shoulders. Kate wouldn’t appreciate it, and right now he didn’t want to do anything to upset her. She was already on edge. “Denise didn’t make it to our next meeting. I used my computer skills and the Bureau’s extensive network to hack into a secure server at Trask.” She looked at him, put up her hand. “I know-don’t say it. I could have jeopardized a conviction. But I was scared to death that Denise had been killed because she’d come to us. I couldn’t do nothing.

“That’s when I found her strapped to a chair. Naked. Live on the Internet, and damn, I was determined to connect this to Trask Enterprises and raid their company. But it wasn’t them. Not on the surface. Someone was using their site, but it was obvious they were piggybacking on it.

“Paige and I had to find Denise. We told our boss what we learned and he said we didn’t have enough to go on. But Paige talked to him, told him we had the warehouse under surveillance where Trask was supposedly going to be bringing in these Russian girls. We were supposed to have backup. But it never came. It…” Her voice trailed off. Dillon suspected that there was more to the story, but Kate jumped ahead. “We were essentially ambushed. Trask killed Evan and kidnapped Paige. Suddenly Paige was in the chair instead of Denise. I watched as my partner, my best friend, was raped, online where every pervert could see.”

Kate stood and paced again, agitated, her hands moving constantly.

“And Evan was your boyfriend,” Dillon said quietly.

She nodded.

“Why did you think Denise was dead?”

“NYPD found a body in the Hudson River. She matched Denise’s description, but her face had been so brutalized, it wasn’t recognizable. I was certain it was her. I had seen her beaten on the Internet. Why would Trask let Denise go? She could identify him.”

Kate slammed both hands against the metal door. “But the bitch was working with him all along! I felt so damn guilty over Denise’s murder. I believed her, believed everything she told us. She had bruises and worse. I honestly thought she was trying to do the right thing and we had gotten her killed. But she set Paige up!”

Dillon mulled the information over. “What kind of bruises?”

“When I thought she was dead? They were all over her face.”

“No, the bruise you saw when she first approached you with information.”

“Her throat. He’d attempted to strangle her.”

“Is that why her voice is hoarse like that? On the feed?”

“Yeah.”

“But her vocal cords should have healed by now. There would have to have been extensive damage. Or ongoing trauma.” Dillon frowned. Remembered another case he had worked on where women self-mutilated, or allowed others to do it, out of self-hate, and numerous other reasons, unique and personal: low self-esteem, the need to feel in control, the need to give to others something no one else would.

Dillon pictured the way Denise had treated Lucy on the screen. It wasn’t an act. “Denise Arno hates women,” he said. “Hates that Trask wants other women. I’m sure you’ve heard of autoeroticism.”

“Where partners or solos bring themselves to the brink of death while engaging in sex.” She spoke like a textbook.

“Denise would give herself, her life, to Trask except that it would end in her death. She despises the fact that Trask wants-needs-other women to fulfill his fantasy, because his fantasies always end in death.”

Dillon pushed away the horrific image of Lucy dying while Trask raped her. If he thought about Lucy, he wouldn’t be able to think like Trask. And that wouldn’t do his sister any good.

“Denise is just as sick as Trask is,” Kate said. “I don’t really care why he does it. I just want to stop him.”

“But we can’t stop him if we can’t walk in his shoes. He’s smart. Logical, methodical, cunning. He’s not going to slip up. We have to be smarter, shrewder. If we can’t get into his head, we can’t save Lucy. And I refuse to let my little sister die. This Roger Morton-he was in Peterson’s file. He’s been with Trask since the beginning, right?”

Kate nodded. “He’s definitely wanted. He was at the ambush. And he’s on tape raping Paige…” Her voice trailed off. She was looking at Lucy on the computer, but not seeing her.

Dillon walked over to her, turned her face to look at him. “Does the FBI have a file on Roger? Can Quinn Peterson get it?”

“Absolutely. And I have all my early research.”

“I need to see it. Now.”

The computer beeped. Dillon and Kate walked over and he sat down.

Peterson here.

Dillon typed.

What’s going on with the coordinates?

I’m working on it. We have a team mobilized, but it’s going to take time.

How much time?

Two to three hours. We have to go in covertly because it’s in Mexican waters. We don’t have the time to go through official channels on this.

My brothers are heading there now. You’ll probably beat them. You can contact Patrick through IMP@kincaid.com.

Call them back. We don’t need civilians all over the place.

I couldn’t have stopped them. K. thinks it’s a trap.

I know. She told me. Kate needs to worry about her own ass. Is she there?

Yes.

Tell her I’m working on immunity. I’m doing everything I can to get her back. But Trask knows where she is.

She knows.

Dillon glanced at Kate. The hard expression on her face proved it.

“I wish Trask would come for me,” she whispered.

“He knows where you are. He must have a reason for not coming after you.”

“I don’t think he knows exactly where I am. He knows how to talk to my computer, and he’s probably narrowed down the region. But if he knew where I was, he would have taken me instead of Lucy.”

“Why?” Dillon asked.

She said quietly, “Because he wanted me first. Paige saved my life. He grabbed her when our backup finally arrived.” Kate looked at Dillon. “Paige and I dealt Trask a major blow. His freedom, his finances, his company. Payback.”

“But why did he want you originally? You said he tried to kidnap you first?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he planned on taking both of us. Like you said, he hates authority. I’ll bet he really hates women in authority.”

Dillon thought about that. “I think you’re right, but there’s another reason, maybe one we won’t know until we talk to him.”

“Shoot first,” Kate warned him. “If you give him a chance to talk, he’ll kill you.”

Peterson typed:

And if she finds more information, send it. No vigilantes. I don’t want to lose anyone. I have to run. The copter is ready.

Dillon closed down the IM, frowning. Maybe he’d made the wrong choice. Staying, trusting a woman he didn’t know. The FBI was taking the information about the island off Baja California seriously. What if he was isolated here, unable to help when they found Lucy? She was going to be traumatized. She needed her family.

“She’s not there,” Kate said softly, as if reading his mind. “It was too easy.”

“How can you be so certain?” Dillon asked, surprised at the quiet temper in his voice.

“Instinct.”

“I don’t know if I’m willing to trust my sister’s life to your instincts.”

“I don’t blame you. But I didn’t ask you to come here, and I certainly didn’t ask you to stay.”

Dillon walked to the far side of the small room, gathered his wits about him. Panic wasn’t going to save Lucy.

“Where are your files on Roger Morton?”

She pulled open a file drawer under her desk. Every folder was neatly labeled and dated. “Where do you want to start?”