Scarlet Angel (Page 16)

“She should stay with a friend. It’s too dangerous to take her to Delaney Grove. Not to mention, against the rules.”

“I’d agree with all of that, but we’re looking for a revenge killer, even though that dickhead out there says otherwise. You know a revenge killer doesn’t target someone unless they get in the way. She’ll be safe. As for the rules, the Bureau doesn’t have any say over where civilians do or don’t go. It’s a free country, after all.”

Her lips twitch with amusement.

“And it’d piss that fucknut off if you brought her and used that line,” she adds.

Knowingly taking Lana into a town where a serial killer plans to eventually show up…it’s insanely irresponsible and dangerous.

“Please, Logan. She could definitely stand to be around people, and you’re really all she has.”

Cursing, I run a hand through my hair.

“If the unsub thinks we’re getting too close, he could target her to get to me. It’s too risky.”

“You know that’s bullshit,” she fires off immediately. “If this guy wants to come after you, he’ll come after you. He’s not afraid or a coward like Plemmons who preyed on the weak. He’s not a sexual sadist with an interest in pretty brunettes. You’re not thinking logically.”

I look at her like she’s lost her damn mind. “I’m not thinking logically?” I ask incredulously. “You’re asking me to bring an untrained civilian into the field after she was recently attacked once already because of my job.”

She leans forward, determination in her eyes. “Lana saved herself from Plemmons. She saved me. You’re not bringing her into the field; she’ll be locked away nice and safe in whatever place we’re going to be in. There aren’t any hotels in Delaney Grove, so I’m about to talk to Craig to find out where exactly we’ll be tucked in.”

As if cued, there’s a knock at the door, and Craig walks in before I can invite him.

“Hey, so, care to explain to me what the fucking hell is going on?” Craig asks as he steps inside and closes the door.

“I’m currently telling him to bring Lana along because she doesn’t feel safe being by herself. She even hates traveling right now because she feels exposed. Talked to her about it myself,” Hadley quickly inserts.

His eyebrows go up. “That’s completely understandable after what she suffered. She should come.”

Hadley beams at me like a kid who just won the argument over who gets the candy. “You too? You realize how dangerous that could be.”

He bats his hand. “A revenge killer who has been targeting strong, fit males is not going after a helpless woman. If he wants someone on our team, he’ll come directly after us. He’s not afraid.”

“Exactly what I said,” Hadley gloats.

“Neither of you are profilers,” I point out.

“Which is why we shouldn’t be so much better at this than you,” Hadley says on a long, breathy sigh, mocking me with her eyes.

“Why is this so important to you? First you don’t trust her, and now you want her with us?”

Her lips tense. “Things change. Pictures happen. Then things change real fast when shit hits the fan and suddenly SSA Prick Meister walks in and takes over like he’s trying to hide something.”

“What does that even mean?” I groan.

“Lana will be safer with us than on her own right now,” Craig tells me, the two of them doubling up.

Donny walks in, and I glare at him as he shuts the door.

“I’m not sure what’s going on, but we need to figure out our next step and soon. He’s on the phone with the sheriff now, but instead of delivering the profile out in the open, he shut the door and said it was a private matter.”

He looks between the three of us.

“What?” he asks, confused at the tension.

“They think Lana should come with us, because she doesn’t feel safe alone right now.”

“That’s very understandable. You should bring her. It’s not like she’ll be in any danger, considering he’d just come after one of us directly if he thought we were in the way,” Donny says, causing Craig and Hadley to smirk victoriously at me.

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“Besides,” Donny goes on, ignoring my comment, “it’ll piss off Captain Douchewad something fierce.”

Chapter 11

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

—William Shakespeare

LANA

Shakespeare was one of the few philosophers who believed in revenge. Then again, he was a romantic. Romantics always believe in revenge, because romantics love harder, suffer loss more painfully, and hold onto a grudge that has shattered their hearts. Their hearts are of the greatest importance, above all else—body, soul, or mind.

My body grew stronger and my mind turned calculated when I lost my soul to avenge my heart.

I guess that makes me a romantic.

I’m in the middle of texting Jake, who is also a romantic, when there’s a knock at the door, interrupting me.

Logan wouldn’t knock.

Warily, I go to the peephole, and I spot a very distinguishable redhead with her back turned.

I open the door, wondering what she’s come to say this time. But when she turns, there are tears in her eyes.

She walks by me, shouldering her way in.

The burden of my secret is apparently weighing on her too much. Fuck.

I’m so close now.

Silently, I shut the door, and she takes a seat on the bed, while I lean against the door.

“Sixty-nine pictures and seventy nails,” she says, confusing me for a brief second. “Something tells me you’re not one to miscount.”

Realizing her meaning, I take a seat in the corner.

“This is about Ferguson?”

“I finally had the courage to look at the file today. I got up early to go in and look at it, then some things happened afterwards that we need to talk about. The point is, there were seventy nails and sixty-nine pictures. What’d you do with the other picture, Lana?”

My lips tense. She knows it was her picture I took. I don’t know how she’s going to react now.

“I burned it.”

“Why?” she asks without a flicker of emotion.

“Because the mind is a fragile thing. Your friends would have seen it; you’d have seen it too. It would have been the thing that broke you. Hearing it existed isn’t as critical as seeing yourself as that child who was exposed and vulnerable, then knowing proof existed all along. Hearing it is processed differently than seeing it. The mind is more delicate to sight than it is to sound. I didn’t want you broken. I didn’t want him winning from the grave. So I burned it.”

She wipes away the few tears that have managed to trickle down her face.

“I’m with you,” she says quietly. “Whatever you need, I’m with you.”

That…confuses me even more.

“Why?”

“Because a psychopath wouldn’t care about someone, who by my own admission, has made your plans so much more difficult. You show genuine compassion. It’s an obvious confliction with a psychopathic personality.”

“I have psychopathic tendencies, but I’m not a psychopath,” I say on a sigh. “I’ve told you this.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t believe it until I saw sixty-nine pictures and seventy nails. Now you have my trust that you’re really just someone who is avenging only the wrongs. And if anyone can relate to needing to kill the demons in the world that won’t die otherwise, I can.”

I blow out a weary breath, not realizing until this moment how much her indecision has been bearing down on me.

The string has been glued into place now, no longer threatening to be the unravelling of this entire thing.

“Then SSA Miller Johnson shows up today, as if more of a sign was needed.”

Just his name has my back stiffening, and she notices it.

“He covered this up, didn’t he?” she asks, ciphering my reaction too well.

“He did more than cover it up.”

“What else did you not tell me?”

“I told you everything that happened before. I didn’t tell you anything that happened after. You’ll need to learn it with the rest of your team.”

“Why? Why not just tell the story to them in a note or something?”

I lean forward. “The mind is a fragile and delicate thing,” I repeat. “Hearing it from a letter or from a killer has less of an impact than hearing it from someone who has been dying on the inside from holding in the secret. Several people know the story, Hadley. Find one to tell it. Not to mention, I need that town to feel haunted. The longer it takes for the story to be told, the more questions you and your team will ask. And the more people will start to tremble in fear.”

“You want that fear,” she states, studying me.

“I can’t kill them all,” I say with a shrug. “But terrorizing them will remind them to never hold their silence again when the innocent are screaming for help.”

She nods once, trying not to show how uneasy that thought makes her. She’ll change her mind when they finally get to Delaney Grove.