“Because the GBI doesn’t just take cases from the locals. We have to be invited.”

Her jaw tightened and her eyes went cold. “I see. Well, then, can you tell me how to get to Peachtree and Pine?”

Daniel blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

“I said Peachtree and Pine.” She enunciated it. “Sheriff Loomis, the Dutton sheriff, said that’s where I should look for her.”

Damn you, Frank, Daniel thought. That was insensitive and irresponsible. “I’d be glad to give you directions, but you might have more luck after dark, and that I wouldn’t recommend. You’re from out of town and don’t know the safe areas.”

She lifted her chin. “I don’t seem to have much choice. Sheriff Loomis won’t help me and you can’t.”

He didn’t think so, but chose to keep his opinions to himself. He looked down at his shoe, then back up at her. “If you can wait until seven, I’ll take you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because I have a six o’clock meeting that’s not done till seven.”

She shook her head. “Don’t play games with me, Vartanian. Why?”

He decided to tell her some small sliver of the truth. “Because that victim was found just like your sister, and on the same day my Jane Doe died, your stepsister disappeared. Whether I have a copycat killer or not, this is too much of a coincidence for me to ignore. And… you’re here, Miss Fallon. Has it occurred to you that you might be a target of a copycat killer, too?”

Her face paled. “No.”

“I don’t mean to scare you, but I’d rather see you scared than lying in there.”

She nodded shakily and he could see he’d made his point. “I appreciate it,” she murmured. “So where should I meet you at seven?”

“How about back here? Don’t wear that suit, okay? It’s too nice.”

“Okay.”

The need to put his arm around her swamped him again, but he shoved it away. “Come on, I’ll walk you up to the front.”

Monday, January 29, 10:45 a.m.

I’m still alive. She struggled to wake up and squinted, unable to open her eyes fully. But it didn’t matter, it was so dark that she couldn’t have seen anything anyway. It was daytime, but she knew that only because she could hear the birds.

She tried to move and groaned when pain streaked everywhere. She hurt so bad.

And she didn’t even know why. Well, technically she knew part of it, maybe even all of it, but she didn’t let herself acknowledge that she held the information in her brain. In her weaker moments she might tell him and then he’d kill her.

She didn’t want to die. I want to go home. I want my baby. She let herself think of Hope and winced as the tear burned on its way down her cheek. Please, God, take care of my baby. She prayed someone knew she was gone, that someone had come for Hope. That someone is looking for me. That she’d be important to someone.

Anyone. Please.

Footsteps approached and she drew a shallow breath. He was coming. God help me, he’s coming. Don’t let me be afraid. And she forced herself to go blank, to clear her mind of everything. Everything.

The door swung open and she winced at the dim light from the hall.

“Well, now,” he drawled. “Are you ready to tell me where it is?”

She gritted her teeth and prepared for the blow. Still she cried out when the end of his boot kicked her hip. She looked up into black eyes that she’d once trusted.

“Bailey, darlin’. You can’t win here. Tell me where the key is. Then I’ll let you go.”

Dutton, Monday, January 29, 11:15 a.m.

It was still there, Alex thought as she stared up at Bailey’s house from the street.

So go in. Check it out. Don’t be such a coward. But still she sat, staring, her heart beating hard and fast. Before she’d been afraid for Bailey. She’d been terrified of Bailey’s house. Now, thanks to Vartanian, she was afraid for herself, too.

He might be totally wrong, but if he was right… She needed protection. She needed a dog. A big dog. And a gun. She started up the rental car and was ready to pull away from the curb when a knock at her car window had her screaming.

Her gaze flew up to the window where a young man in a military uniform stood smiling. He hadn’t heard her scream. Nobody ever did. Her screams were only in her mind. Drawing an unsteady breath, she rolled down the window a crack. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said pleasantly. “I’m Captain Beardsley, U.S. Army. I’m looking for Bailey Crighton. I thought maybe you might know where I could find her.”

“Why are you looking for her?”

Again his smile was pleasant. “That’s between me and Miss Crighton. If you see her, could you tell her Reverend Beardsley stopped by?”

Alex frowned. “Are you a captain or a reverend?”

“Both. I’m an army chaplain.” He smiled. “Have a nice day.”

“Wait.” Alex grabbed her cell phone and dialed Meredith while the man stood outside her window. He did wear a cross on his lapel. Maybe he was really a chaplain.

And maybe he wasn’t. Vartanian had her paranoid. But then again, Bailey was missing and that woman was dead.

“Well?” Meredith demanded without preamble.

“It’s not Bailey.”

Meredith sighed. “I’m relieved and at the same time… not.”

“I know. Listen, I came by Bailey’s old house to see if I could find anything-”

“Alex. You promised to wait until I could go with you.”

“I didn’t go in. I just needed to see if I could.” She glanced at the house and her gut began to twist. “I can’t. But as I was sitting here on the street, this guy came up.”

“What guy?”

“Reverend Beardsley. He says he’s looking for Bailey. He’s an army chaplain.”

“An army chaplain is looking for Bailey? Why?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out. I just wanted someone to know I was talking to him. If I don’t call you in ten minutes, call 911, okay?”

“Alex, you’re scaring me.”

“Good. I was getting too full of fear myself. Need to spread it around. How’s Hope?”

“The same. We need to get her out of this hotel room, Alex.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She hung up and got out of her car.

Captain Beardsley looked concerned. “Has something happened to Bailey?”

“Yes. She disappeared.”

Beardsley’s concern became shock. “When did Bailey disappear?”

“This past Thursday night, four days ago now.”

“Oh, dear. Who are you?”

“My name is Alex Fallon. I’m Bailey’s stepsister.”

His brows went up. “Alex Tremaine?”

Alex swallowed. “That’s my old last name, yes. How do you know that?”

“Wade told me.”

“Wade?”

“Bailey’s older brother.”

“I know who Wade is. Why would he tell you about me?”

Beardsley tilted his head, studying her. “He’s dead.”

Alex blinked. “Dead?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I assumed you’d been notified. Lieutenant Wade Crighton was killed in the line of duty in Iraq about a month ago.”

“We’re not really blood relations, so I guess the government wouldn’t have contacted me. Why are you looking for Bailey?”

“I sent her a letter her brother dictated to me just before he died. Lieutenant Crighton was injured in a raid on a village outside Baghdad. Some called it a suicide mission.”

A sense of satisfaction stole through Alex, making her ashamed. “Was the mission accomplished?” she asked very quietly.

“Partly. At any rate, Wade was hit by mortar fire. By the time the medics got to him, it was too late. He asked me to hear his confession.”

Alex’s brows knit. “Wade wasn’t Catholic.”

“Neither am I. I’m a Lutheran pastor. A lot of men who ask me to hear their final confessions aren’t Catholic, and clergy other than priests can hear them.”

“I’m sorry. I knew that. We have all kinds of clergy come through our ER. I was just surprised Wade would confess anything. Do you visit all the families of the deceased?”