Scarlet Angel (Page 15)

“I told you to call me,” he says quietly, his eyes flicking to Johnson as he moves in on one of the vacant offices.

“What’s going on?” I ask again.

He sighs long and hard. “I don’t know. Johnson got a call from someone, and he called me, wanting to know why you were working on one of his old, solved cases. I told him that it overlapped with one of your present cases. Next thing I know, the director is waking me up with a call saying Johnson will be running point on the Scarlet Slayer case.”

“What the actual fuck?” I hiss.

He gestures to my office, and I pass by Hadley who looks furious as she glares at Johnson. She’s never met him before, but he rubs everyone wrong within a matter of moments.

As soon as we’re inside, Collins closes the door.

“Something is going on with all this. First the coroner’s report was pointless on the dead ‘supposed’ serial killer that Johnson profiled. The profile is full of holes and inconsistencies, just like the case against Evans was. Then there’s a revenge killer who is out there doling out death sentences for men who used to live in this town. The oldest victim would have been nineteen—as far as we know so far—and the youngest would have been fifteen,” I tell him, furious right now.

He drops to a chair, his face as white as his shirt. But I’m not finished.

“Then Johnson shows up, bullying his way into impeding this investigation. What’s really going on here, Collins? Did he have something to do with an innocent man being killed? Did he intentionally fuck up the profile to make it fit Robert Evans? I can’t find much on that case here. We’ve been scraping together what we can.”

He shakes his head. “I remember the Evans case. It got the least publicity because of terrorist threats going on at the same time, or something like that. I remember the case because I went to that town when several of the unit members said they were done; hell, half of them quit, retired, or transferred, which is why so many slots opened up at once. Johnson was left behind on his own to finish the case. Then he came home. That trial happened so fast. I’ve never seen a trial come and go faster than that one.”

He pauses, sucking in a sharp breath as he stares at nothing. Finally, he continues.

“Next thing I know, what little bit of the unit that remained just up and quit. Johnson was on the market to be replaced after that, even though I don’t know why. They hired a bunch in, but you were the one they eyed the longest. You came three years after that mess. They finally had the right replacement, and they got rid of him as soon as you were ready.”

“Yet now the director sends him back?”

“He’s sending him back to clean up a mess, is what it sounds like.”

“He’s awfully smug for someone trying to cover his ass,” I bite out.

“He’s not covering his ass. He’s covering the director’s. Director McEvoy has been on the verge of being replaced for six months now. I’ve already been approached several times about it by very high ranking officials. They want me in that chair and him gone.”

I drop back to my desk, leaning against it as he sits in one of the two chairs by the door.

“So what do we do?”

“You’re the profiler. Tell me what gets us out of this situation but offers the best possible resolution to a very dangerous serial killer.”

I think it over, weighing the facts and probably outcomes.

“Johnson will profile this guy as a sadist, regardless of all the new information we’ve discovered. He’ll change the game, rewrite the evidence to fit his profile. Then he’ll single out someone who doesn’t fit the true profile at all. Half of his cases were overturned because of that.”

“I’m well aware of his shortcomings,” Collins states dryly.

“If he falsified DNA evidence…” I let the words trail off.

“Then he’ll be locked away,” Collins promises.

I trust him. Always have. He’s not involved in the politics. He’s old school FBI—the kind who joined the Bureau in the quest for the truth and justice.

“So I work the case on the side, running it through my team. I’m still their boss. Any backlash will fall on me, understood? I don’t want their careers jeopardized over any of this.”

“While you’re doing that, I’ll assemble a committee meeting to see if I can overturn this ludicrous ruling. It might take me a week or more, but I’ll get him out of your hair if there’s any way possible,” he offers.

“Tell me it’s on me and not my team,” I repeat, staring him down.

“As you wish,” he says on a sigh. “Hopefully it’ll never come down to that.”

“He’s going to demand we go to Delaney Grove in the next day or so,” I go on. “He’ll want to get ahead of the endgame regardless of the fact the kills seem to be surrounding us right now instead of the town in question. It might work out in our favor though, because we might finally get some answers about what happened there.”

I look up, seeing through my window as Johnson walks toward the center of the room, touching my motherfucking board and erasing crucial profiling information.

“I hate that son of a bitch,” I say under my breath.

Collins turns, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Don’t we all.”

I walk out, listening to what Johnson is instructing half my team to do. Elise and Lisa aren’t here yet, but Donny’s eyes meet mine, as though he’s catching on to how fucked up this is.

“We’ll be going to Delaney Grove in two days. Pack a bag. I’ve called the sheriff, and he’s invited us in to help him with this,” Johnson says.

“Funny,” Craig drawls. “He wanted to act like nothing was going wrong when we spoke to him.”

Johnson eyes Craig. “You just worry about smiling for the cameras and leave the real work to us.”

Craig’s jaw tics, and he glares over at me. I smirk, letting him know I’m up to no good, and he restrains his own smirk in return.

“You have a sadist,” Johnson says predictably. “This sadist is targeting alpha males.”

Donny turns away, probably choking on how inaccurate that profile is. No one argues. Everyone has heard of Johnson’s reputation. He’s not a team player who listens or even adjusts. He’s a domineering prick who thinks his word is gospel.

A true narcissist.

“Kyle Davenport has been put into protective custody by the local PD,” he goes on, finally saying something that surprises me.

“Who is that?” Donny asks.

Hadley lowers to her seat, seeming too quiet for her.

“He’s the sheriff’s son. I’ve narrowed down the victimology, and he, along with a couple others, fit the profile. But he’s more alpha than the others, so we believe he’s the next target.”

Donny comes to my side as Johnson begins spewing his own praises about how many sadists he’s caught and how easy it is to catch them when they have a specific victim type.

“This is bullshit,” he growls. “There’s no way he narrowed down the victimology to one fucking possible with as little as we’ve had to go on.”

I rub my chin, staring ahead. “Unless he knows what happened ten years ago.”

He jerks his head to me. “Then he’d know this is a revenge killer and not a sadist.”

I nod. “But if you fucked something up so bad that you had the director himself insert you into the current investigation, the last thing you’d want to do is profile a revenge killer.”

His eyes widen, then narrow to slits in the next second. “That motherfucker really does know what happened. He could be fired and possibly even serve time for impeding an investigation like this.”

“I’m aware,” I tell him. “Which is why I’m listening to everything he’s saying. I’m building my own subcommittee case. For now, work our case. I’m your boss. He’s not. Follow my orders. Not his. And when it comes down to it, it’ll fall back on me if this goes south.”

“I couldn’t care less if they fire me over this prick, Logan. Don’t take him on alone. He has too many high-ranking friends.”

“Yeah, but I prefer to deal with evidence,” I tell him, clapping his shoulder on my way back to my office.

I’m seated for a matter of moments before Hadley walks in.

“You should bring Lana to Delaney Grove with us,” she says with no emotion.

My eyebrows hit my hairline. “What? Why the hell would I do that?”

“Well, for one, we’ll be gone for a while, if this guy isn’t any closer to his endgame. And for two, Lana is still struggling to be alone at night. She told me,” she says, shrugging.

I tense. Lana hasn’t said anything like that to me.

“Why wouldn’t she tell me that?”

She shrugs, taking a seat. “She’s tough. She doesn’t want you to know she’s struggling, because you’ve been proud of how tough she is.”

I groan, running a hand through my hair. Of course she’s struggling. A man broke into her house and tried to kill her. We’ve been staying in a hotel since it happened.