After The Dark. Cynthia Eden

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СКАЧАТЬ get Samantha within his grasp for so very long. He couldn’t afford to screw up.

      He talked to the locals. Some people were always so eager to overshare. He learned more special spots in the area. Secluded spaces. Then, when he was finally ready, he walked along the heart of downtown Fairhope. He strolled down the street, his gaze flickering over the shop windows. An artsy place, one filled with galleries and pottery shops. Restaurants boasted organic food and fine Southern cuisine. Luxury, in a quiet setting. The cobblestone sidewalk beneath his feet appeared to have been recently swept, and, even though it was still February, bright flowers were already planted in the city.

      One particular shop drew his eye. A gourmet food and wine establishment. He paused a moment, staring in the window, looking at the cute store clerk who stood just behind the counter. He needed Samantha to know that the hunt was on. He wanted her to understand that he was close. She’d been found.

      So perhaps he should send her a little gift...a little note to let her know of his appreciation. He pulled a phone out of his pocket, a burner phone because he knew how to cover his tracks, and he dialed the number displayed so prominently on that shop window.

      He watched as the clerk reached for the phone, then he heard her voice, softened by the lightest of Southern drawls, as she answered the line. “Thanks for calling Connoisseur’s Delight. This is Tammy. How may I help you?”

      Tammy. He smiled and backed away from the shop. After all, he didn’t want her to glance up and see him. “Tammy, this is going to be a long shot, but I’m looking for a very special champagne for a friend of mine.”

      “Well, we sell both fine wine and champagne,” she said brightly. “And we have a very extensive list.” Pride had slipped into her voice.

      “Do you now...” He licked his lips. “Well, I’d like to make an order for a friend of mine. If you’ve got a Dom Pérignon, vintage 1998, then we will be in business.” That bottle was special, he remembered that.

      So would Samantha.

      There was a faint hum, and he heard the click of keys, as if the helpful Tammy were typing in a search on her keyboard.

      “If you don’t have that one,” he said as the moments ticked past, “I can easily order another—”

      “No, sir! We have it.”

      Perfect.

      “By any chance...do you deliver?” But he already knew they did. He’d seen that sign on the shop window, too. “Because I would love to surprise my dear friend Samantha with a delivery of her favorite champagne. I’d like to include a card with the package, and I can tell you exactly what her note should say...”

      * * *

      “I WANT TO help her,” Samantha said. They were outside now and she’d changed into jeans and a loose blouse. He’d shared more files with her as the morning slipped into late afternoon. Tried to convince her that she was needed in DC.

      And, God, she wanted to help that victim. She wanted to stop killers.

      But what if I’m wrong again?

      The sun was too bright. And the memory of Kristy’s face wouldn’t leave her mind. “But I’m not FBI, Blake.”

      “You could be. You know you could fight to get that job back.”

      He was grim. Determined.

      And she was letting fear hold her back. Damn it. She hated being this way. “Blake, I—”

      His phone rang, cutting through her words. Immediately, her lips clamped together.

      A furrow appeared between his dark brows as he pulled out his phone. “I’ve got to take this, Samantha. Give me a minute.”

      “Take all the time you need.” She shoved her hands behind her back and stared at the swaying Spanish moss as it blew in the breeze. A copycat killer. Why had a copycat started hunting? And why was he deliberately trying to draw her into his crimes? He’d used her name, gotten the victim to say her name for a reason.

      He wants me. Goose bumps rose on Samantha’s arms as a profile began to slip through her mind. It had been so long since she’d focused on any killer but Cameron, yet...old habits died hard.

      This killer wants me. He used the victim because he wanted the message delivered. Kristy Wales was just collateral damage. She didn’t matter to him at all.

      “What?” Blake’s voice was a hard snarl that had her gaze snapping toward him. “When? Shit, hell, yes, I’m near the scene. No, no, don’t worry about the local authorities. I’ll pull them in. I’m taking lead on this damn thing. If it’s Latham, I’ll bring him down.”

      Her mouth seemed to dry up. Blake shoved his phone back into his pocket. His eyes were glittering. “We just got a hit.”

      She inched closer to him. “A hit?”

      “The FBI has been monitoring Latham’s credit cards ever since he vanished.”

      But Cameron wouldn’t be dumb enough to use his cards. He would know that the FBI was watching. He’d—

      “One of his cards was used ten minutes ago, right here in Fairhope.”

      Her heart iced. Samantha caught herself even as she was shaking her head.

      “I don’t believe in coincidences,” Blake growled. “You’re here...and now his card is being used?” He spun away from her and started marching toward his rental vehicle.

      “Wait!” Samantha scrambled after him. “I’m coming, too!” She knew he’d be going to the shop where that card was used, that he’d be talking to the clerks, looking for video feeds—trying to find Cameron.

      Something I’ve been attempting do to for months.

      Blake looked back at her. “Thought you were done with the FBI.”

      She’d tried to be, but a killer was out there—and obviously, he wasn’t done with her. “I’m coming with you.” This was her town. Her peace.

      But she feared that peace was being shattered.

      * * *

      THE BELL JINGLED when Blake pushed open the door to Connoisseur’s Delight. A young woman behind the counter glanced up, a wide smile on her face. “Welcome! Please, feel free to browse around and make yourself—”

      He flashed his badge. “FBI Agent Blake Gamble, and I need to ask you some questions.”

      Her blue eyes widened. “The...FBI?”

      Samantha was right at Blake’s side. They both stepped toward the counter. He could feel the tension rolling off Samantha, and that same energy hummed through his body. After months of inactivity on Latham’s cards, suddenly they’d gotten a hit? Hours after Blake had found Samantha at the pier?

      No damn way was that pure chance.

      He’s here. “What’s your name, miss?”

      Her СКАЧАТЬ