Date: 2014-04-08 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Mystery; Thriller; Crime; Romantic Suspense; Short Stories; Suspense; Fiction
Description: Have you started the bestselling Faces of Evil series? Readers are calling it the best series of the decade! In this short story, make a quick stop in Birmingham, Alabama, where Deputy Chief Jess Harris will take you back to the moment when she was assigned the Player case and ultimately met serial killer Eric Spears. Relive the moment when Jess realized her life was about to change forever.

The Face of Evil

A Faces of Evil Short Story

Debra Webb

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 Debra Webb, Pink House Press

Edited by Marijane Diodati

Cover Design by Vicki Hinze

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

PINK HOUSE PRESS

WebbWorks, LLC, Huntsville, Alabama

First Edition November 2014

False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil.

~Socrates

1

Birmingham Police Department

Birmingham, Alabama

Sunday, August 29, 11:30 a.m.

Deputy Chief Jess Harris closed her notepad and placed her pencil on the shiny conference table. Her heart thudded so hard it made her chest hurt.

Another young woman was missing, Monica Atmore, a legal secretary in Montgomery. This time there were no games. No question as to who the victim was. The twenty-five year old hadn’t come home on Friday night. Her husband reported her missing first thing Saturday morning.

No need to look any farther. Monica Atmore was with Eric Spears aka the Player—one of the most prolific serial killers on the planet. The one obsessed with Jess. The one who wanted to destroy all that she loved. He sent photos of his victims to her just to taunt her. Fury combined with the fear paralyzing her, making her want to scream.

“You’ll get an update the moment I have one.”

The sound of Supervisory Special Agent Ralph Gant’s voice jarred Jess back to attention. Gant was lead in the Joint Task Force attempting to find and stop Eric Spears. He was also Jess’s former superior, what felt like a lifetime ago, when she’d worked as a profiler for the Bureau.

Gant’s image on the screen faded as the video conference call ended. Chairs squeaked and suits rustled as the rest of the attendees around the table prepared to leave the room. No one said a word to Jess.

There was nothing else to talk about. God only knew where Spears was. He had at least two hostages at this point and there wasn’t a solitary lead on his whereabouts or theirs. They had nothing except the reality that every move he made was about her.

Jess didn’t bother standing nor did she miss the glances from the rest of the members of the Joint Task Force. The two local Bureau agents were the first out of the room. Deputy Chief Harold Black, head of the Crimes Against Persons Division, walked out with Mayor Pratt at his side. Jess didn’t care that Black and the others blamed her for this—fact was she blamed herself. What tore her apart was the damage being done to the man she loved.

When the silence had thickened in the room once more, there was only the two of them. She could hardly bear to look at Chief of Police Dan Burnett.

Dear God, she had crashed her career with the Bureau and now she had all but destroyed his. To torment her, Eric Spears had targeted Dan, pitching his career into turmoil and his life into jeopardy.

How in the world would she stop this insanity?

“At least we’re not chasing down dead ends trying to identify his latest victim,” Dan said, voicing her earlier thoughts. The hint of hope in his tone fell just shy of optimism.

Dan was no fool. He understood the situation was grave for all concerned.

Jess tucked away her pad and pencil and pushed out of her chair. “That’s something, I guess.” She shouldered her bag and tried her level best not to let him see her hands shaking. “I should get to my office.”

As deputy chief of the department’s Special Problems Unit, she had work of her own to do. Even as the thought formed, her head spun. Spears would not stop until he had what he wanted. Even if it meant everyone around her was destroyed.

Dan caught her at the door. He cupped her face so gently with his strong hands that she wanted to weep. “This will be over soon. You have my word on that.”

The sincerity in his blue eyes was almost her undoing. How could he hope to fulfill that promise? He knew what they were up against—what he was facing. And the baby—her heart lurched—protecting the child she carried was her constant worry just now.

“We’re doing all we can,” she agreed, for his benefit. She tiptoed and brushed a kiss across his jaw. The warmth and certainty in his eyes chased away some of the cold that seemed her constant companion. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She left before her emotions got the better of her. That was the thing about being pregnant—keeping her emotions in check was a serious challenge. Good grief, who would have thought when she returned to her hometown, just a few short weeks ago, that she would end up staying for good and back in the arms of the only man she’d ever loved? And pregnant.

No wonder her head was spinning.

Sergeant Chet Harper waited in the corridor outside Dan’s office. Her escort. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere, not even the ladies’ room at this point, without an escort.

Harper gave her a nod. “Ma’am, you have a visitor waiting in your office.”

Jess frowned. “Should I avoid my office, Sergeant?” She was in no mood to see anyone not part of her team. The media frenzy that hit the news last night was enough attention for the next couple of decades. In the last week, she had gone from being the favored new cop in Birmingham to being the pariah of the city.

“Maybe,” Harper allowed. “It’s Gina Coleman. We told her you were tied up but she insisted on waiting.”

Gina Coleman was the Magic City’s award winning investigative journalist. If she was determined to get the scoop on Spears’ latest move, she could forget it. Then again, she had done some favors for Jess recently, and she was undeniably the voice of integrity and substance in the local media. Maybe she could give Gina something. Since returning to her hometown, Jess had learned just how important it was to have an “in” with the local media—even if they made her nuts most of the time.

“All right then, I might as well see what I can do for Ms. Coleman this morning.”

By the time they had gone down a flight of stairs and made it to her office, Jess had pushed aside the mountain of worries and prepared a kernel of information she hoped would satisfy Gina.

The other members of the SPU team present this morning looked up as Jess and Harper entered the office. Their working space was nothing more than one big room filled with desks and an empty case board, but it worked. They’d solved their latest case less than forty-eight hours ago.

Gina Coleman stood at the window behind Jess’s desk. She looked amazing as always. Sleek, formfitting white jacket and skirt. A killer pair of white stilettos. Also as usual, not a strand of her lush brunette hair was out of place. Jess resisted the urge to sigh. How was it that some women made looking that good appear so effortless?

“Chief Harris,” Gina smiled, “I hoped you might be available for lunch.”

As if on cue, Jess’s stomach rumbled. Everything tasted better these days. By the time she was ready to have this kid she would surely be enormous. A groan rose in her throat but she kept it to herself. She and Dan were the only ones who knew about the baby. As if she’d telegraphed the thought, Lieutenant Clint Hayes, the newest member of their team, opened one of his desk drawers. Hayes had learned her secret but he’d sworn to keep it to himself. Jess hated secrets but she just couldn’t share this news right now. Not and risk Spears finding out. He would love another pawn to use against her. She couldn’t afford to give him any more ammunition.

“Today is not a good day for lunch,” Jess admitted. She glanced at Lori Wells, the only female detective on her team. “We usually have a working lunch.”

“I called in an order for pizza from Gino’s,” Lori said, taking Jess’s cue.

The uncertainty in her voice almost made Jess cringe. How she wished she could make Lori see that she hadn’t done anything wrong. The events that played out in that restaurant on Friday couldn’t have been anticipated by anyone.

Coleman gave a nod. “I see.” The gleam in her eyes warned she wouldn’t be so easily deterred. “I guess you’re not interested in what I can do to help.”

The hint of something beyond the usual self-confidence in her expression nudged Jess’s curiosity. She turned to Lori. “Miss Coleman and I will need some time.”

Without meeting Jess’s gaze this time, Lori grabbed her purse. “I wasn’t in the mood for pizza anyway.”

So far, nothing Jess had said had penetrated the layers of guilt overwhelming Lori. She needed time. Unfortunately, time was something they had little of to spare.

“I love pizza,” Hayes spoke up.

Jess would have liked nothing better than to tell the newest member of her team to go with the others. Why waste the energy? She understood that wouldn’t be happening, and, for the most part, had come to terms with that inevitability since her safety wasn’t only about her anymore.

“Good,” Jess told him. “You can make sure we’re not disturbed, Lieutenant.”

That was her one complaint about their shared space. Though the open concept worked well when the team was brainstorming on a case, there was no privacy for meetings like the one she was about to have with Gina.

“Happy to oblige, ma’am,” Hayes said, in his best southern drawl.

When she and Gina had the office to themselves, Jess opted to set the ground rules. “You’re aware there are certain things I can’t talk about yet.”

Gina moved to the front of Jess’s desk and made herself comfortable in a chair. “I doubt you know anything the media doesn’t have already.”

There was that.

Jess settled behind her desk. So much for the tidbit she’d decided to give the reporter. “Then why bother coming? I can tell you right now the pizza isn’t that good.”

“I have a proposition for you, Jess.”

Jess leaned back in her chair. “I’m listening.”

“Tell me your story,” Gina began. “The real story of how Spears came to be in your life and how he ruined your career with the FBI. The citizens of Birmingham will eat it up. They love you.”

Jess laughed. “I think you’d better check your sources on that one. This city has quickly fallen out of love with me.”

“All these murders have them running scared,” Gina argued. “Spears has them running scared. Let me tell them how he’s taken over your life—what he’s done to you and the people you care about. The world loves a martyr, Jess. And you’re a martyr if I’ve ever seen one.”

Jess was reasonably sure that was not a compliment. “The story starts back in February, more than six months ago,” she warned. The truth was it started even before that. Like five years before that, but the real trouble had begun this year. “What makes you think people want to hear old news?”

Gina smiled. “You’ll have to trust my instincts.”

No arguing that point. The woman hadn’t gotten where she was by going after the wrong stories.

“What do I get in return for spilling my guts to you?”

Gina shrugged. “Tell me what I can do for you. I’m confident there’s something. Name it.”

As if the answer had suddenly been scrawled across her bare case board, Jess knew exactly what Gina Coleman could do for her.

“I’ll give you the story,” Jess granted.

Victory, or maybe euphoria at getting the interview every reporter in the state would no doubt wish they’d landed, sparkled in Gina’s eyes.

“If,” Jess qualified, “you help me find a discreet way to warn the citizens that their beloved chief of police is being framed.”

Now Jess had the reporter’s attention.

“I can definitely help with that,” Gina agreed.

Jess ignored the tinge of jealousy that came automatically at the idea the other woman had once shared Dan’s bed. Didn’t matter. All that mattered was making sure Dan didn’t suffer more than he already had. His home had been burned to the ground. He was being investigated in the case of a missing BPD division chief, Captain Ted Allen. She had to do something to stop this downward spiral.

“Eric Spears,” Gina said, drawing Jess’s attention from the painful thoughts and to the small recorder now sitting on her desk, “start at the beginning.”

Jess shuddered at the idea that she’d once owned a recorder very much like that. Funny, how something so seemingly harmless could change one’s life.

Jess took a breath and began. “It was Valentine’s Day.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

2

Valentine’s Day, Six months earlier...

Quantico

Special Agent Jess Harris stared at the massive bouquet of red roses on the corner of her desk. She shook her head. The divorce papers were signed and though the marriage had ended months ago, the legal dissolution wouldn’t be final until the end of this month. Still, it was over. Why in the world did Wesley waste his money sending her flowers? She lifted the card from the lush arrangement.

Thinking of you. Wesley.

Jess tossed the card into a desk drawer. “That must be why you accepted a position on the opposite coast.”

She stared at the open folder in front of her but her mind just didn’t want to stay focused. The idea of holding the divorce against Wesley was ridiculous. Their failed marriage was more her fault than his. He was a very nice man and an excellent agent. Wesley Duvall’s only mistake had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jess had turned forty and getting married promptly went from nowhere near her priority list to practically the top. Forty had felt so old and she’d never been married. Everyone around her was or had been at least once in their lives. The idea that her old flame, Dan Burnett, had been married twice already hadn’t played a part in her reasoning. At least, not one she would acknowledge. That was a secret she fully intended to take with her to the grave.

A rap on her office door drew her errant attention from those foolish musings. She really didn’t have time for a pity party. All work and no play was her choice. If she ended up old and alone she had no one to blame but herself. Her sister Lily reminded her of that fact regularly.

“Come in.” Jess had nothing to prove to anyone except to those who needed her assistance with finding criminals.

The door opened and Supervisory Special Agent Ralph Gant walked in. Judging by the bulging case file he carried he had a new assignment for her. Or maybe he wanted to remind her that an all hands staff meeting included her.

“I was on a conference call,” Jess said before he could chastise her. “It took me three days to get that time with the coroner on my current case. The detectives are waiting for this profile.” She tapped the folder on her desk. “I knew you’d bring me up to speed and here you are.” She topped off her excuse with a broad smile.

Gant grunted a disagreeable sound, closed the door and then deposited himself into the chair next to her desk. “I’ll send you an email.”

So this was about a case. She’d anticipated a reminder that as a career agent and seasoned profiler she was expected to set the proper example.

“We need to talk about the Player case.”

Anticipation coursed through her. She forced herself to relax. No need for him to see the immediate interest and hope, frankly, his words elicited. “I gave everything I had to Taylor five months ago like you asked.”

Gant shrugged. “Unfortunately, we don’t have anything new to add to that.”

Why wasn’t she surprised? The Bureau had been on the Player’s trail for the past five years and still he remained an unknown subject. Jess had consulted on the case for most of that time. She had studied his victims. His MO. She knew all there was to know about the phantom and his games. Truth be told, she had done almost as much searching for this unsub as any agent in the field.

No matter, she, like everyone else involved, had no idea who he was beyond the probability that he was a white male in his late thirties to early forties. Intelligent. Resourceful. And ruthless. If Jess’s profile was correct, he was a sociopath in the purest form.

“He’s like a ghost,” Gant grumbled.

Jess didn’t believe in ghosts. “It’s difficult to identify a suspect when he leaves no evidence and never strikes in the same place twice.”

Gant nodded. “That doesn’t help me sleep at night.”

Insomnia went with the job. How was she or any agent supposed to sleep when every imaginable evil roamed their heads all hours of the day and the night? Only when a case was closed successfully, and the criminals involved were either dead or on their way to justice, did she feel she had done enough. Unfortunately, there were far too many, like the Player case, which remained unsolved. Those were the cases that robbed her of sleep. The average civilian couldn’t understand how a serial killer, like the Player, who had raped and murdered at least six women every year for the past five, that they knew of, hadn’t been caught by now. It was simple. No witnesses and no evidence. Until the Player made a mistake, there was no identifying him much less catching him.

“Taylor and Bedford have done all they can and they’ve gotten nowhere.”

Jess bit back I told you so and reminded her boss of what he knew all too well. “It’s time for him to start again.” Goose bumps rose on her flesh. About this time every year the Player’s cycle started. As the date on the calendar had neared, she’d pretended it wasn’t her problem. Had done all she could to ignore the inevitable. But he was there, night and day, on the fringe of her mind.

It was time for a new game.

Jess steeled against a shudder.

“I shouldn’t have taken you off the case.” Gant shook his head.

Jess wasn’t sure whether to jump for joy or to scream at the man. She had studied the Player since the Bureau first became aware of his existence. But five months ago her boss, likely prompted by the lack of movement on the investigation, had assigned the case to Agents Taylor and Bedford.

Burnout happened. A profiler worked closely with the agents and local law enforcement personnel involved with a case. As angry as she had been about Gant’s decision, deep down she had understood that new insights might make a difference. Taylor had been a profiler a year longer than her and Bedford had moved to BAU only two years ago, but they were both good. She’d pretended to understand.

Like local law enforcement, the Bureau was taking a beating in the news. Any time that happened something had to change—whether it did any good or not.

Jess reached for the file that would contain an overview of any updates on the case as well as the lengthy reports she had provided. The actual case file would be much larger. Not that she needed to see any of it. The details were etched into her brain. The only case she’d ever been assigned that she hadn’t helped solve. Yet.

She placed the file on her desk. “I have maybe another two hours work on my current case and then I’ll start on this one again. If Taylor’s available, maybe we can talk tomorrow morning.”

“I know you two are a little on the competitive side,” Gant said, “but you should know, he admitted you’re the one who should be working this case.”

She appreciated Gant saying so, but she had her doubts as to whether Taylor would ever admit any such thing unless it was because he saw failure coming and decided to bail. No one wanted to be the profiler or the field agent assigned to a case when the death toll was about to rise. “Thank him for the vote of confidence.”

Gant pushed to his feet. “You might want to keep that part to yourself. I’m reasonably sure he didn’t mean for me to pass along the comment.”

“I won’t say a word.”

When Gant was gone, Jess took a deep breath and opened the file. She shook her head as she considered that it was time for his cycle to begin again and they had nothing.

He was too good at protecting his identity. Too careful in his every step.

“Not your garden variety sociopath, that’s for sure,” she muttered as she closed the folder.

Just another monster that had gotten away with his evil deeds for far too long.

Present day...

Birmingham

Gina shut off the recorder. “You look like you need a break.”

With effort, Jess dismissed the memories. She cleared her throat. “I could use a Pepsi.”

What time was it? She glanced at her cell. Just past noon. Had it only been half an hour since she and Gina started the interview? Felt like a lot longer.

Where was that pizza? Maybe a few M&Ms would get her through. She reached for the drawer where she kept her backup chocolate stash.

Gina stood. “I’ll check with Lieutenant Hayes and get an ETA on that pizza.”

Jess decided she must look like hell if Gina was worried about her. Pretty soon folks would recognize that something was off.

How much longer could she keep the pregnancy a secret?

3

June 20, Two months earlier...

Richmond, Virginia

“She was a good girl,” Mona Clark said of her twenty-year-old daughter. “She made the Dean’s list every semester at the college.”

Jess kept her smile in place. She wished there were comforting words she could say to the woman, but there were none. As usual, the Player had chosen his victims, one every seven to twelve days until he had taken a total of six, and as with the other victims in each of the games over the past five years, none had survived.

Frieda Clark had been the final victim in this latest game. She was also the youngest ever taken by the Player.

Following his typical pattern, he left no evidence. Nothing.

Now, the Bureau and all other law enforcement agencies involved had about ten and a half months to find him before the next game started. The Player called his annual ritual a game. Each victim was abducted, tortured for approximately seven days before being given a chance to escape that was doomed to failure, and then she was murdered. How twisted was that? Just when the victim was almost defeated, he gave her hope, and then extinguished it as well as her life. Tracing the last hours of their lives was as simple as reading a map—the map of cruelty drawn on their bodies.

There was little deviation in his MO and the only thing the victims had in common was physical appearance. The Player preferred tall, brunette and beautiful women. Intelligence appeared to be a factor as well.

“According to your statement, Mrs. Clark,” Jess said, hoping to draw the poor woman from her painful thoughts, “Frieda hadn’t mentioned any new friends. You said she wasn’t dating anyone special.”

Mona shook her head. “She always told me about her friends.” Her shoulders sagged. “She wanted a boyfriend but she hadn’t met anyone who lived up to her high standards.” A smile trembled across her lips. “My daughter was a little picky. I raised her that way. I wanted her to have a good husband. The kind of husband she deserved.”

Jess understood. “When it comes to men, picky is good.” Then again, being too picky carried a cost of its own. Funny, she had never considered herself lonely until the last couple of years. What was it about turning forty that changed so much? She found herself questioning every decision she’d ever made. Even her career had come under scrutiny lately, and her career was the one part of her life where she’d always felt completely confident. Work defined her. No one had worked harder than Jess. She had a near perfect record. If she worked a case, the bad guy always got his.

Except one.

The Player. The single blemish on her record.

Mona gazed at Jess hopefully. “Do you think you’ll be able to stop him this time?” She batted back the tears shining in her eyes. “If you do, at least my sweet Frieda won’t have died in vain.”

Jess forced away the doubt nagging at her. “We’re doing all we can, Mrs. Clark. You have my word on that. We are going to stop him.” She refused to admit defeat on this case. She would identify the Player and he would be stopped.

If it was the last thing she did, she would find him.

The older woman’s lips trembled as she visibly struggled with her emotions. “I hope so.”

By the time Jess was in her car, she was mad as hell. Six more dead women. She closed her eyes and braced her forehead against the steering wheel. And not one speck of evidence that would lead them to the serial killer who was probably laughing at them right now. She straightened and stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Let him laugh. She was not done yet.

Her cell clanged with that old-fashioned ring tone. She hated the sound but it made recognizing hers from everyone else’s in a crowd easy. She dug the phone from her bag and checked the screen. Richmond telephone number.

One of the local cops working the case, maybe. “Harris.”

“Agent Harris, this,” the female caller cleared her throat, “this is Naomi Proctor.”

Jess’s heart thumped. “Naomi, hi. Did you think of something else that might help with our investigation?”

Naomi Proctor was the best friend of Sierra Timmons, victim four in the latest Player murders. Naomi had spoken to Sierra just minutes before her abduction. Her statements so far had provided nothing to advance the investigation. Par for the course. Not once in five years had a friend or family member been able to provide useful information. The Player was too smart for that.

Jess hoped his luck was about to change.

“There was this older guy,” Naomi said. Her voice quavered. “Like forty or forty-one. His name was Eric Spears. He came to the restaurant a couple of times. Sierra said he gave her the creeps but he was a really big tipper. Like a hundred dollars each time.”

Jess’s hopes drooped. It wasn’t unusual for older men to hit on younger women. A college student, Sierra had worked as a waitress on weekends. Tips had helped keep a roof over her head. Being attractive had ensured good tips. “Was there something in particular about this man that bothered Sierra?”

“He told her she was the kind of woman he liked, and that he was going to play a game with her.”

Jess sat up a little straighter. “You’re certain those were his exact words?” That thumping in her chest grew harder.

“That’s what she told me.”

Laughter in the background—the canned kind from a television program—punctuated her statement. A frown furrowed Jess’s brow. She found it more than a little strange that Naomi would be watching some sort of comedy program while mulling over her friend’s murder. Even stranger was the fact that nothing about this older man was in her previous statement. “Is there a reason you didn’t mention this man before?”

“I... I just remembered. I guess I was in shock until... now.”

That vacant sound in the woman’s voice grew more distant with each word she uttered. “Why don’t we talk about this in person?” Jess suggested. “Are you home, Naomi?”

“Yeah.” A big, shaky breath vibrated over the line. “Okay. Sure.”

The words were hesitant, chock full of trepidation. “Stay right there, Naomi.” Jess started her car. “I’m on my way now.”

Jess tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and drove like a bat out of hell. Still it took her half an hour to get to Naomi’s home. Whatever was going on, the young woman sounded under duress. Emptiness and anxiety had resonated in her every word.

After skidding into the first available parking slot, Jess jumped out of her Audi and raced toward the row of two-story townhouses. Maybe she was over reacting, but her instincts warned that something was very, very wrong.

With a deep breath to slow her pounding heart, Jess rapped on the door of Naomi’s townhome. The silence inside ratcheted up Jess’s tension. When they’d spoken on the phone, she had heard the television playing in the background.

Had Naomi changed her mind and left to prevent talking to Jess? A quick survey of the parking lot answered that question. Naomi’s blue Fiat with its Life is Good plate on the front sat in a spot a few doors down. Had she decided in the last half hour that she didn’t want to talk after all?

Why had she sounded so upset? Did she know more than she was telling? It wasn’t impossible that she’d only just remembered the information, but it was highly unlikely. Either way, Jess needed to speak to her in person. Body language told far more than the words alone.

Jess rapped again, harder this time. The door opened a few inches as if the latch hadn’t been engaged.

“Naomi?” Jess reached for her Glock as she took a position next to the door. “Naomi, I’m here if you still want to talk?” She gave the door a push with her free hand. It swung inward.

It was so quiet Jess could hear the blood surging through her veins.

She leaned around the doorframe and had a look. Her breath jammed in her lungs.

Naomi hung from the banister on the second floor landing.

Jess moved across the threshold, weapon ready and braced for anyone who might be inside. She hesitated, couldn’t see a way to get the young woman down without a ladder and something to cut the rope. Didn’t matter at this point, she realized. Naomi Proctor was dead. After calling for backup, Jess moved cautiously through the rest of the home.

Back downstairs, the sirens wailed. Jess started for the door, but something on the floor in the corner next to the staircase stopped her. A piece of paper lay on the white carpet. Jess tugged out a glove and snapped it into place. Picking the paper up by one corner, she read the words scrawled across the page.

I wasn’t supposed to tell.

Jess shivered with the abrupt sensation that someone was watching. She wheeled around. Two uniformed officers were barreling up the sidewalk.

He’d won again.

But this time the Player had taken a victim who wasn’t a part of his usual game. This one he’d taken just to show everyone who was boss. The move was a deviation from his usual MO. Jess hoped the unexpected departure from his usual pattern would lead them to something besides another woman’s body.

Present day...

Birmingham

“That’s when you knew it was him?” Gina asked, her eyes wide with the excitement. “You knew Eric Spears was the Player?”

Jess reached for the bottle of water on her desk. The pizza wasn’t sitting well. Or maybe it was the topic of conversation. Spears had ruled her life for so long the very thought of his name made her ill.

Would she never be rid of him?

Not until he’s dead.

That was the one thing she now understood with complete certainty.

“No,” she said in answer to Gina’s question. “I didn’t know Eric Spears was the Player then. But I know now that was the day...” A moment was required before Jess could finish her statement. “That was the day it began.”

Gina frowned. “It?”

“His obsession with me.”

4

June 25, Two months earlier...

Quantico

“You don’t have enough evidence.”

Jess wanted to tear out her hair! Gant wasn’t listening! “Naomi Proctor is dead,” she reminded her boss. “I believe she’s dead because she gave me his name.”

Gant wagged his head from side to side in the most infuriating manner. “The autopsy showed no conclusive evidence that she’d been forced to hang herself, Harris. She put that rope around her neck and climbed over the banister. Those are the only two facts we can prove.”

He just wouldn’t see it. Jess pointed to the case board she had created on the wall in her office. “Not one of her friends or family members saw this coming. Not a single one. No history of depression or any other mental illness. Proctor was at work the day before and no one noticed anything out of the norm.”

“It happens,” Gant argued.

Jess shook her head. She was not letting this go. “No, it doesn’t.” She propped her hands on her hips and stood her ground. “There are always warnings when something like this happens. Always. People see what they want to see, or maybe they’re afraid or feel guilty and won’t admit what they noticed, but there are warnings. Always,” she repeated just in case he didn’t get it the two other times.

He shrugged. “So no one noticed or no one wants to admit what they saw. Either way, Naomi Proctor committed suicide and we have no evidence Eric Spears was at the restaurant where victim four worked.”

“Sierra Timmons,” Jess corrected.

Gant frowned. He was annoyed at her insistence on following this lead. “What?”

“Victim four’s name was Sierra Timmons.”

Gant glanced at her case board then heaved a big breath. “No one wants to solve this case more than me, Harris. But what you have on Spears is nothing. You don’t have a witness who can place him at the restaurant during one of Proctor’s shifts even if that would prove anything. Your job is to help identify and anticipate the movements of the unsub in the Player case, not track down potential suspects. We have agents in the field for that. You’ve already stepped on too many toes with the locals in Richmond. The lead detective is more than a little pissed at you.”

Jess didn’t care. No one was listening! She had two employees at the restaurant who kind of, sort of remembered Spears. But, unfortunately, Gant was correct. No one could corroborate Naomi’s story. And Jess was way outside her jurisdiction on this case. Still she argued. “Spears owns businesses in all five of the cities where the previous murders occurred.”

“SpearNet is global, Harris. What city doesn’t he have assets in?” Gant challenged.

Eric Spears was one of those “garage entrepreneurs” who’d created a Fortune 500 company from nothing that had propelled him to the top of the top one percent.

“He fits the profile.” There were a number of traits that identified a sociopathic serial killer. More than enough of those applied to Spears. Jess collapsed into her chair. She refused to give up on this lead. She was onto something. Dammit.

“But he has no record. Nothing about his past screams serial killer.”

Jess was the one heaving a big sigh now. “Just because no one ever caught him killing a puppy when he was a kid doesn’t mean he didn’t.”

She had never met the man but she’d read the one interview he’d granted to GQ. Spears was a recluse for the most part. He’d created his international corporation, and now he gave his instructions from wherever in the world he decided to land for the day. He owned his own jet, among other things. Most who’d met him personally called him an arrogant genius. Spears had never been married and had no friends that Jess could find. Not that she could mention that particular fact since certain things she’d been doing weren’t technically in her job description.

Not that being friendless outside of work made him a serial killer. If that were the case, most in the Behavioral Analysis Unit would fit the profile. Who had time for friends?

“I warned you about this before, Harris.” Gant leaned across her desk and tapped the photos of Spears. “Your obsession with this case makes your assessments unreliable. This is why I took you off the case last year.”

When she would have contended otherwise, he held up a hand to stop her. “You’re the best.” He glanced at the closed door. “Not that you have permission to tell that around, but it’s true. Be that as it may, this case has gotten under your skin and you’re operating on emotion. We all hit a brick wall on a case eventually, Harris. No one can find the killer every time. Not even you.”

If that was supposed to make her feel better, it did not.

“I need your total objectivity on this case,” he went on. “Get past this Spears thing and help all those other agents and cops who want to find the Player. You’re operating as if you’re the only person on the team. That has to stop for the job to get done. I know it and you know it.”

Jess stared at the photos of Spears for a moment. Somehow, in her heart, she knew this man was the Player. But Gant was correct in his conclusion. She couldn’t prove it. Worse, she had no right to leave everyone else out of the loop. Guilty as charged. Her job was to provide information, not to take off on some maverick investigation.

“You’re right.” She gathered the photos and placed them back into the case file. “I’ll set up a meeting ASAP to brief Richmond PD on my latest assessments.”

As Gant left, satisfied he had ushered Jess back into line, she considered whether SpearNet would still be open when she arrived in Richmond if she left now.

Only one way to find out.

Richmond

The corporate offices as well as one of the largest labs belonging to SpearNet were nestled amid the city center of downtown Richmond. Twelve stories of sleek tinted glass, SpearNet specialized in electronic security, but the mega corporation dabbled in everything from drones to medical technology. The founder was so proud of his accomplishments he offered tours of certain areas of its research and technology laboratories.

Jess strolled along with the crowd of folks who listened intently to the tour guide’s every word. Her senses, on the other hand, were honed in on the facility. Giant monitors and floor to ceiling windows provided firsthand views of the newest technology. Staff members in crisp white coats hurried around the corridors.

The perfect place to hide if one was a killer. Eric Spears was surrounded by dazzling displays of his financial portfolio as well as his brilliance. This was a man with immense, possibly endless, resources. He could do anything, go anywhere... and no one would be better at hiding than someone who specialized in security.

Briefly Gant’s words echoed a warning, but Jess ignored them. She needed to soak in the atmosphere of Eric Spears’ life’s work.

His blond haired, blue-eyed likeness stared out at her from a two-story poster proclaiming him the gifted CEO of SpearNet. Sophisticated. Charming. Determined. Ruthless in all things business.

She had driven by his home as well. Like this building, his home was austere. Sleek, modern, and so very cold. A fortress complete with a guard booth and most likely a state of the art security system.

No one was getting close to Spears without an invitation.

Yet, all she needed was a few minutes in a room with him and she could confirm if he was the monster she thought him to be. So far, her attempts to get an interview had proven futile. Eric Spears was always on one continent or another but rarely on this one, it seemed.

Jess followed the crowd, reminded herself she had an appointment with Richmond’s lead homicide detective in just one hour. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she froze. Instinctively, her hand went to her bag but she’d had to lock her Glock in the car for this tour. She turned around, surveyed the long, broad corridor before lifting her gaze to the walkways above. A man standing on the walkway to her right appeared to stare directly at her. He didn’t wear a white coat and he didn’t appear to be a part of one of the tour groups.

Unable to stop herself, Jess reached into her bag for her glasses. He surely knew she was staring at him since she made no attempt to hide it and still he didn’t look away. She pushed her glasses into place and zeroed in on his face.

The man smiled.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Eric Spears.

Present day...

Birmingham

“He was watching you,” Gina Coleman suggested, breathless.

Jess rubbed at her temples. “He was.”

“Did you talk to him that day?”

Jess shook her head. “No. He just wanted me to know he was watching. Then he walked away. What I didn’t know at the time is that he’d been watching me too.”

Gina pressed a hand to her throat. “With what I’ve learned about Spears, it must have been terrifying just being in the same room—no matter how large—with him. When did you actually speak to him?”

Memories of those minutes in the Richmond PD interrogation room filled Jess’s mind, causing her chest to constrict. “It would be twelve days before I interviewed him.” She remembered every hour of every one of those days and nights. Her life had grown consumed with Eric Spears.

Had it only been two months ago? Seemed like a lifetime. Jess closed her eyes. That had been the beginning all right.

The beginning of the end of her life as she knew it.

5

June 28, two months earlier...

Stafford, Virginia

Jess pressed the brew button on her coffeemaker and waited for the cup to fill. She had a little more work on the new case she’d been assigned yesterday, and then she intended to get some sleep.

Between the homicide detective in Richmond having moved on and her inability to connect Eric Spears to Sierra Timmons, Jess had decided to try and find some distance from the Player case.

Gant was grateful, that was for sure. He didn’t want his ace profiler, as he called her when his mood was right, getting bogged down with a dead end.

“Moving on.” She snagged her coffee and headed to her home office. She’d bought this house almost ten years ago, and still she hadn’t hung a single picture on the walls. Only two of the four bedrooms were furnished and one of those served as her office. During her brief marriage to Wesley, he had used one of the vacant bedrooms as his office. He’d also used that room as a place to sleep near the end.

Jess hesitated at the door of the room Wesley had used. The indentations in the carpet from his desk and bookcase were still visible. She stared at the wedding band on her left hand. She probably should take it off and put it away. But then she’d just have to explain that her marriage was over due to irreconcilable differences.

As long as she wore the ring, no one asked questions. Except Gant. He and Wesley had been friends. Wesley had told him the relationship was over. Gant hadn’t admitted as much, but he’d asked Jess on several occasions if she was okay. To anyone who overheard, he could have been asking about her health or a case. She knew the real motive behind the question. His not so covert glances at the wedding band she wore when he asked was all the explanation she needed.

She moved on to her office. Before taking a seat behind her desk, she stared at the case board she’d made on the wall. Graphic photos from the crime scene, including those of the victims, along with dozens of handwritten notes she used in creating her profile dotted the wall. She’d poked hundreds of tiny holes in the drywall of this room with all those pushpins. Her sister’s kids had managed to get a peek on their last visit. They had immediately proclaimed that their Aunt Jess had the creepiest office in the world. Her sister Lil had been appalled.

The chair creaked as Jess got comfortable and set her coffee next to the keyboard. She nudged the mouse and opened her inbox. She smiled as she read an email from the detective in charge of a case she’d recently profiled. Her suggested method of questioning had garnered a confession from the suspect.

A quick reply and she was on to the next email. The subject line surprised her.

The evidence you need...

She tapped the necessary keys and the email opened.

I know you’re watching him. I can help. I know where he keeps his mementoes. Your Attic Mini Storage. Raines Tavern Road. Unit 12.

Jess hit print, her fingers cold. What the hell kind of joke was this? She stared at the address of the sender. Watcher01. The Internet Service Provider was one used by millions. Anyone could create an ID and begin sending messages.

But this sender knew she was watching someone. With a few more keystrokes, she plotted the address, which was just outside Richmond. It was late. Almost ten. She could be there before midnight.

Jess chewed her lower lip.

Or she could be smart and wait until morning and turn the email over to Gant.

This wouldn’t be the first time she’d made a not so smart decision.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be the last decision she made.

Farmville, Virginia

Twenty minutes before midnight Jess parked in the lot of the Your Attic Mini Storage. She’d circled the property. Three long rows of storage units. No other vehicles were in the lot. Thankfully there was plenty of lighting. The road was pretty much deserted but visibility in either direction was good. No sign of another house or vehicle for miles.

Unit 12 was only a few feet from where she’d parked, and she’d positioned her car in such a way that it couldn’t be blocked in by anyone who might have decided to set her up. As a profiler she worked behind the scenes most of the time. The media rarely heard her name. Credit for support to local law enforcement was always attributed to the Federal Bureau of Investigation not to any one person.

Since her name wasn’t bandied about in the media, the most troubling aspect of the communication she’d received was how the sender had obtained her name much less her personal email address. She gave it only to those with whom she worked closely on a case and even that was rare. Of course, if someone with the right resources wanted her personal information it could be procured.

“Damned hackers.” One day the Bureau would be able to police Internet crime a little better.

Any way she looked at this, chances were it was a set up or a game someone wanted to play. There was a remote possibility that someone who knew the Player had decided he or she couldn’t live with the guilt any longer.

“Right,” she groused. Few sociopaths, much less serial killers, trusted anyone with their darkest secrets.

Still in her car, Jess scanned the lot once more. “You going to just sit here, Jess, or are you going to do this?”

Since she hadn’t completely lost her mind, she decided to send Gant a text just in case this was the kind of set up you didn’t walk away from. She gave him her location and reason for coming. He was likely in bed and wouldn’t see it before morning. At least if she ended up dead, someone would know where to start looking and why she’d been way out here in the middle of the night.

“Enough stalling.”

She donned a pair of latex gloves, opened the car door and climbed out. In the distance she could hear faint traffic noise from the interstate. Otherwise it was eerily quiet. The gravel crunched beneath her sneakers. She’d thrown on her favorite pair of jeans and a t-shirt but now she wished she had grabbed a sweatshirt. The air felt cool against her bare arms.

Though it had been a while since she’d worked as a field agent, she’d done this plenty of times before. As confident as she felt, the weight of the holstered Glock nestled against her torso was reassuring. The flashlight in her right hand was the Mag type easily used as a weapon. She was prepared.

“Or stupid,” she muttered, with another long, slow look around.

There was no lock on unit 12. Not a good sign. If there really was any evidence inside, why wouldn’t there be a lock?

She’d been had. “Dammit.”

Her cell phone vibrated with an incoming text and she dug it out of her back pocket. If Gant had gotten her message, he was going to blow a gasket and she would have some major explaining to do. All for nothing. She stared at the screen.

Open it.

Her pulse jumped. Jess surveyed her surroundings again. There were no cameras on the buildings. No other cars in sight.

How the hell did he or she know Jess was here? Or get her cell phone number?

She turned to head back to her car. Whatever was going on here, she intended to call the locals for backup.

A sound whispered across her senses.

Jess stilled.

It was low, scarcely audible... but it was there. Soft weeping or whimpers.

The next sound to fill the air was the steel of her Glock sliding from its leather holster. Jess eased closer to the door of unit 12. The soft sound was coming from inside. Keeping her attention on her surroundings, she shoved the Mag light in her waistband and bent down to tug up the door with her free hand.

The grate of metal on metal drowned out the whimpering. She raised the door and reclaimed her flashlight. Definitely a woman crying. The sound was louder now. Heart thundering, she clicked on the light and surveyed the space beyond the door. A single cardboard box sat in the middle of what appeared to be an otherwise empty unit of about ten by twelve feet. She leaned in, tried to get a better look at anything that might be hanging overhead.

Nothing.

“Well hell.” She wished whoever had set this up were here and she could just shoot the bastard.

Her cell vibrated again. Shaking her head, she dragged it out.

Evidence is in the box.

She had to be out of her mind. Gant would go ballistic. There were rules and she’d already broken several.

Still, she had to look.

Checking behind her once more, she approached the box. Inside were articles of clothing. Bras and panties. The weeping was louder this close to the box.

“Where the hell is that coming from?” She surveyed the interior of the unit, top to bottom, once more. Clear. The sound had to be coming from something in the box. A recording or cell phone set to speaker. Cautiously, she picked through the garments, and then stalled. Blood. Some of the garments were bloodstained.

The weeping suddenly stopped with an audible click.

She moved aside the rest of the bloodied under garments and at the bottom of the box was a handheld recorder. The same kind Jess had in her desk drawer at home.

“Shit,” she hissed.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

Jess whirled around, her weapon and the beam of her flashlight leveled on the man who held a shotgun aimed right at her. “FBI.” She steadied herself. “Let’s just stay calm, sir. I’m Special Agent Harris.”

“I don’t care who you are,” he growled without lowering his weapon. “You’re trespassing. I already called the sheriff.”

Jess exhaled a chest full of tension. “Good. Can you call him back and tell him we need a forensic unit, too.”

Present day...

Birmingham

“It’s a miracle he didn’t shoot you!” Gina proclaimed. She shuddered. “Harris, you really are lucky to be here.”

More so than anyone knew. “He wasn’t looking to shoot anyone. He was only protecting his property.”

Confusion lined the reporter’s smooth brow. “I thought you said there were no houses along that stretch of road.”

“There wasn’t. He received a call that someone was prowling around his storage facility.”

“The call was from an untraceable cell phone, I take it.”

Jess nodded. “A burner. Same as the text messages I received. The email, I learned later, was sent via the Wi-Fi from my own house. His goal was to prompt a reaction from me and he got one. I made the first and last mistake of my career with the Bureau.”

“But the stuff in the box belonged to the victims from the Player’s most recent murders, right?” the reporter guessed.

“That’s right. The box even had Spears’ prints on it.”

Gina put up her hands. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” Jess assured her, “when you hear the rest.”

6

June 29

Richmond

Jess stared at the man beyond the glass. She hugged her pad and pencil to her chest and tried unsuccessfully to chase away the cold that had settled there.

Eric Spears. The Player. The man who had brutally tortured and murdered thirty or more women.

Lieutenant Randolph, the lead homicide detective on the Richmond case, had already interviewed Spears. Jess would have preferred that he wait for her but it hadn’t worked out that way.

The local authorities were in a frenzy. The articles of clothing found in the box belonged to the six victims from the Richmond area. Blood matching that of two of those victims had been found on the undergarments.

Eric Spears’ prints were on the box.

That was where the good news ended.

The box was from his company, SpearNet. Anyone who worked there, or who had access to the trash taken from the facility, could have picked up the box and used it for nefarious purposes. Once the box left the SpearNet facility, it couldn’t be connected to Spears. Other prints were on the box but no matches so far.

They couldn’t connect Spears, or anyone with whom he was associated, to the storage unit, to the box or to the items in the box, much less the burner phone used to lure Jess there.

The text messages she had received and the call to the storage unit manager were from the same burner phone that was conveniently untraceable. A cyber expert was attempting to track down where the email she’d received had come from.

Gant and the locals were in an uproar because she’d gone into the storage unit without a warrant. Jess wasn’t a fool. She’d had exigent circumstances, in her opinion. How was she to know the weeping was coming from a recording device? It could have been coming from a victim via a cell phone set to speaker inside the box.

She’d had no choice but to go in. At least that was the story she was sticking to. Maybe she could have decided to stand down once she saw there was only a box inside—not one large enough to hold a person, by the way. But she’d needed to know what was inside and the scenario about the cell phone wasn’t totally outside the realm of possibility. At least not unless a judge said so anyway.

As if her worrisome thoughts had summoned him, Gant appeared at her side. “They’ve agreed to allow you to interview him.”

Jess resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. She hated, hated, hated when local law enforcement treated the support from the Bureau as if it were more in the way than anything else. “I’d be grateful except they wouldn’t have a suspect in custody if not for me.”

Gant shot her a look. “We don’t need to talk about this right now.”

He was not happy that she’d gone rogue, as he called it, last night. In hindsight, it wasn’t one of her better choices but then she’d known that at the time.

“Fine.” She turned her attention back to the man waiting alone in the interview room. “Whatever you say.”

“Tread carefully in there,” Gant cautioned.

As if she didn’t know how to interview a suspect. “You’re well aware this isn’t my first dance with a sociopath.”

“He has three attorneys, Jess.” Gant stared at her until she met his gaze. “Three legal eagles who are right now looking for cause to toss out your evidence. Spears is so sure he has nothing to worry about he’s agreed to talk to you alone—against the counsel of those three attorneys.”

“Got it.” She should have known Spears would have the best lawyers money could buy. If she’d taken a minute to think about it, she would have been telling Gant that instead of the other way around.

Maybe he was right. Maybe her head wasn’t on straight with this case.

“I’ll be watching,” Gant reminded her as she prepared to enter the room where Spears waited.

Before she could open the door, the chief of police as well as the lead detective on the case and the Richmond Bureau field agents working the task force had gathered behind the one-way mirror to watch.

She stepped into the interview room and closed the door. She could almost feel the camera in the upper left corner of the room zooming in on her. The scent of extravagant cologne, subtle and undeniably appealing, filled her nostrils.

Jess cleared her head and took a seat across the table from him. Her pulse jolted before settling at the realization that only about two feet separated her from the man she was absolutely certain was the Player. “Good afternoon, Mr. Spears.” She placed her pad on the table and readied her pencil for taking notes. She liked doing certain things the old-fashioned way. Recorders and electronic notepads were fine for some, she’d given both a shot, but she preferred her pencil and paper.

Spears watched her for a long moment before he spoke. Assessing her no doubt. He deliberately inventoried every part of her visible to him before he was through.

“Special Agent Jess Harris,” he said. His voice was deep, smooth, elegant—like the obscenely expensive silk suit he wore. “I finally have the pleasure of meeting you face-to-face. I’m a lucky man, indeed.”

Jess ignored his attempt at humor. “I have a few questions for you, sir.”

“You’ve been watching me,” he said. “Driving past my home. Touring my SpearNet facility.”

How nice of him to tell the world. She felt certain Gant was shaking his head this very second. Spears was trying to rattle her. She wasn’t going to let him.

“I’m a profiler, Mr. Spears. Part of determining all that I can about a subject involves learning about his life. His work. As a successful business strategist, I’m certain you grasp the concept of understanding your target. Once a goal is set or a choice is made, it’s important to gather as many facts as possible. Routines. Strengths. Weaknesses. It’s the only way for any hunter to win the game and ultimately catch the prey.”

He smiled. If it was not for the fact that she knew he was a vicious murderer, the expression would have been pleasant. Eric Spears was a handsome man. A charming man. A brilliant one.

A cunning and deadly animal.

“The only hunting I do, Agent Harris, is in the world of technology.”

The situation became perfectly clear at that precise moment. This was not going to go down the way she wanted. Spears was far too smart to make a mistake. Unless he could be connected to that damned box, he would walk. She would never have this opportunity again.

She returned his smile with an amiable one of her own. “You choose six women each year to hold hostage and murder, one at a time. Why six?” she asked. “Why not five or seven? Is there some relevance in the number six? Is that how many women rejected you as a young man—before you were rich enough to buy attention and affections.”

Those watching in the viewing room would be demanding that Gant get her under control. She hoped like hell he didn’t end the interview before she said what she had to say to this bastard.

“Six is the devil’s number, Agent Harris. Did you know that?” Spears inclined his head and studied her. “Perhaps your monster chooses six victims for that reason.”

Fury started to simmer deep inside her. Don’t let him get to you. “I’d say you’re right, Mr. Spears. He is a monster and a devil. Both of those terms are in my profile.”

“Are you analyzing me now?” He angled his head the other way as if needing a different perspective of her. “Have you labeled me a psychopath or a sociopath?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

He laughed. “Oh yes. A sociopath. I fit most of the criteria, don’t I?” He shrugged casually. “What successful businessman doesn’t?”

“You may be right about that.” Might as well go along. Maybe he’d trip up in spite of his brilliance. All that arrogance had to be hard to carry around.

“Your reasons for bringing me here still elude me, Agent Harris.” He turned his hands up. “You have no evidence. I can’t fathom your point.” He leaned forward, his face so very close to hers. Jess stood her ground without as much as a flinch. “If you wanted to meet me that badly, you should have left a message with my assistant. Blondes are not usually my type, but I’ve been known to make the occasional compromise.”

That fury that had been simmering boiled over. “It isn’t the murder that turns you on, is it?”

He stared so deeply into her eyes she couldn’t breathe, could hardly hold his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean, Agent Harris.”

“It’s the torture.” This time she inclined her head, studied him openly. “That’s the part you enjoy.” His eyes turned ice cold. Jess barely staved off a shudder. “You see, Mr. Spears—”

“Call me Eric,” he said softly, something menacing in the gentleness.

“Eric,” she amended, her throat so damned dry at this point she could hardly swallow. “I’ve spent a lot of years studying the levels of evil and you, sir, are at the very top. The only way you get any pleasure in this life is to inflict pain. You feel nothing without the pain of others.”

He inhaled deeply as if trying to catch her scent. “Since you have me all figured out, Agent, what else is there to talk about?”

Jess forced a smile. Oh he was good. So very nonchalant. “April North. Sierra Timmons. Wendy Commers. Lola Wayans. Allison Fleming. Frieda Clark. And, of course, Naomi Proctor. That’s what I want to talk about, Eric. Where would you like to begin?”

He leaned back in his chair. “As entertaining as this lovely visit has been, I’ve grown quite bored, Agent Harris. I think I’d like to speak with my attorneys now.”

“First,” Jess reached into her pocket for her cell phone, “do you mind if I snap a photo of you?” She shrugged. “You’re the first sociopath at the top of the evil scale I’ve ever interviewed.”

“This is your party, Agent Harris. Be my guest.”

“Thank you, Eric.” Jess took his picture and gathered her pad and pencil. “I’ll see that your attorneys are called for you.”

Before she could rise from her chair, he reached across the table and touched her. Just the briefest caress of his fingertips across her hand. She shuddered before she could block the reaction.

“The pleasure was all mine, Jess.”

7

Present day...

Birmingham

“He touched you...”

The words were hardly more than a breath. Jess nodded in response to Gina’s stunned comment. “He hasn’t stopped touching my life since.” Jess rubbed her hand as if she could erase that moment in her past. Eric Spears had marked her.

“What about the anonymous contact? Did it continue? Do you still get emails or text messages from him or whoever sent them?”

Jess suddenly felt more tired than she had in her entire life. “The emails continued for a few days. Then they stopped. I didn’t hear from him again until the text messages started after I came here.” She remembered the first text message she’d received from Spears after his release. Jess sucked in a sharp breath. “As it turned out, the emails were sent through my home computer. The handheld recorder in the box at the storage unit was the one I’d bought years before and tucked into a desk drawer after carrying it around for months. It was just something else cluttering my bag. Who knew it would become the linchpin in the demise of my career.”

“Spears’ prints were only on the box?”

That was the most frustrating part of all. “Only on the box that came from his place of business. A place where any number of folks could have picked it up. The recorder, however, only had my prints.”

“So the evidence was thrown out.”

Jess nodded. “Between the evidence being a step below circumstantial and my method of obtaining it, yes. The evidence was thrown out and Spears was released from holding.”

“That was just a few days after you returned to Birmingham,” Gina said.

“Right before Detective Wells was abducted.” Jess realized now that Eric Spears had chosen her for some reason. Maybe he’d known she’d been searching for him, for five long years. Whatever it was, his perverse murder games had evolved into something else... something that involved her.

“He picked you,” Gina offered, reading her mind.

“He wanted me to know the monster I’d been tracking with no success was him. He couldn’t help himself. It was an ego thing.”

“He took a significant risk reaching out to you.”

“He knew what he was doing,” Jess countered. “He planned every move too carefully to be trapped. I was the one who ended up caught between a rock and a hard place. I was so involved in my own game of trying to figure him out I made mistakes I’d never made before.”

“He destroyed your career with the FBI.”

“He did.” There was a time when Jess had regretted that so very deeply, but coming home was the right thing. Spears had done her a favor on that one. “Although, my name was eventually cleared and Gant offered me my job back, there are some who will always see what happened as a failure on my part.”

Gina contemplated her for a moment. “You could have gone back to Quantico and yet you decided to stay here.”

“I did.” Jess thought of the child she carried and the man she had loved since she was seventeen years old, even when she’d refused to admit it. “It was the right choice.”

“Do I hear wedding bells in the future for you and our chief of police?”

Jess reached across her desk and shut off the recorder. “That’s not part of this story, Miss Coleman.”

Gina ducked her head in acknowledgement. “Off the record, then. You said Dan’s in trouble.”

Jess hesitated for only a moment. “Someone inside the Birmingham Police Department is setting him up for the disappearance of Captain Ted Allen.”

“That’s ludicrous.” Gina shook her head. “Allen was head of the Gang Task Force. More likely some drug lord he pissed off took him out.”

Jess feared it wasn’t that straight forward. “Whatever happened to Allen, we both know Dan couldn’t have been involved with anything like that.” Impossible.

“Do you think this has anything to do with Spears?”

“I can’t rule it out, but it may be about jealousy. There are those who would like to be where Dan is.”

“Are you suggesting Deputy Chief Harold Black is out to get the promotion he thought he should have had four years ago?”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Black wasn’t happy when Dan was selected as chief of police?” Jess had suspected as much, but she hadn’t returned to Birmingham until the middle of last month. She had no idea what happened four years ago. Dan would never speak ill of Black. He was far too classy to stoop that level.

“Not at all,” Gina confirmed. “There was tension for a while.”

“Check with your sources,” Jess urged. “See what you can find out.”

“Here you are with a deranged serial killer after you and you’re worried about taking care of Dan. Who’s going to take care of you?”

Jess forced a smile. “I know what I’m up against. Better the devil you know, as they say.” Dan spent most every waking hour trying to take care of her. She intended to do the same for him. She needed Gina’s support on this. “What I need from you,” she pressed, “is help pinpointing the source of this threat to Dan.”

“Count on it,” Gina promised.

“This stays strictly between us.” Jess couldn’t allow any member of her team to pursue her theory. Though any one of them would gladly do just that if they knew about her suspicions, she would not permit them to risk their careers.

“You have my word,” Gina promised.

The door opened and Dan walked in.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he announced with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Jess had done that to him. She had brought this evil to his door.

Gina pushed to her feet. “Jess was just giving me an exclusive on Spears.” She looked from Dan to Jess. “It’s quite a story.”

“That it is.” Dan’s gaze rested on Jess.

His concern wrapped around her, but rather than comfort her it tightened so that she could hardly breathe. It was his love for her and their child—his determination to keep them both safe—that was going to cost him far too much. That terrified her more than anything. She wanted to protect him as much as he wanted to protect her.

“I’ll call you,” Gina said as she gathered her recorder and bag.

“Thank you.” Jess hoped her eyes conveyed how much the other woman’s help meant to her.

Gina hesitated at the door and gave Jess a nod. Jess wasn’t going to second guess her decision to ask for Gina’s help. Certainly, the reporter hadn’t climbed to the top in Birmingham without walking over a few bodies. But it was a risk Jess had to take.

“You had lunch?” Dan glanced at the pizza box.

Jess pushed away the worrisome thoughts and produced a smile. “I did. You?”

Dan shook his head. “It’s Sunday. With the briefing over there’s nothing else we can do here. What do you say we go someplace where we can relax for a little while?”

Part of her resisted. How could she relax when Spears was out there, planning his next move... his next murder? She stilled. No. Dan had the right idea. They wouldn’t even be in the office on Sunday if not for the special briefing Gant had called. There was nothing else she could do today. She and Dan had no promise of tomorrow but this moment was theirs. She didn’t intend to take a single minute of her time with the man she loved for granted.

“That sounds like a plan,” she agreed.

Dan came around to her side of the desk and drew her into his arms. “I love you, Jess. If it’s the last thing I do, I will protect you and our child.”

That was the very thing that terrified Jess the most.

Don’t miss the first in the brand new spin-off series, the Faces of Evil: Private Eyes! DARK WHISPERS is coming in September 2016 only from Debra Webb and Harlequin Intrigue! Get your copy wherever books are sold!

Read all the Faces of Evil books in the original series!

OBSESSION

IMPULSE

POWER

RAGE

REVENGE

RUTHLESS

VICIOUS

SILENCE (A series prequel)

The Face of Evil (A short story)

VILE

HEINOUS

DEPRAVED

The Wedding (A short story)

The Dying Room (A Faces of Evil Novel)

About the Author

DEBRA WEBB is the USA Today bestselling author of more than 100 novels, including reader favorites the Faces of Evil and the Colby Agency series. She is the recipient of the prestigious Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense as well as numerous Reviewers Choice Awards. In 2012 Debra was honored as the first recipient of the esteemed L. A. Banks Warrior Woman Award for her courage, strength, and grace in the face of adversity. Recently Debra was awarded the distinguished Centennial Award for having achieved publication of her 100th novel. With this award Debra joined the ranks of a handful of authors like Nora Roberts and Carole Mortimer.

With more than four million books in print in numerous languages and countries, Debra’s love of storytelling goes back to her childhood when, at the age of nine, her mother bought her an old typewriter in a tag sale. Born in Alabama, Debra grew up on a farm. She spent every available hour exploring the world around her and creating her stories. She wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the Commanding General of the US Army in Berlin behind the Iron Curtain and a five-year stint in NASA’s Shuttle Program that she realized her true calling. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Since then she has expanded her work into some of the darkest places the human psyche dares to go. Visit Debra at www.debrawebb.com or write to her at PO Box 10047, Huntsville, AL, 35801.

Table of Contents

- The Face of Evil: A Faces of Evil Short Story

- Midpoint

- About the Author