Jack listens intently as Anastasia tells her story for the second time today. I watch him closely, seeing the same anger on his face that I know had been on mine, too. As much as I hate to admit it, having the guy on her side brings me a bit of relief. She really does have an entire team fighting for her this time.
Standing between her and the danger coming for her like a tidal wave.
I’m standing just behind her chair, remaining close just in case. Hearing her pain is breaking me all over again.
“Is it possible this is the same person?” Leopold asks him once she’s finished.
Jack pushes to his feet and turns away for a moment before facing her again. “Eighteen years ago?”
She nods.
“I’ll have to do some digging. He didn’t pop on my radar until three years ago. But if it’s not the same guy, then it’s one massive coincidence. Most everything he’s done so far has been on point for the guy I was tracking back in Georgia.”
“Even the bullet in the glass?” I ask.
Jack’s steel gaze levels on mine. “That’s new. Probably because he hasn’t been able to reach her otherwise. Now that we have the flower petal and the piece of Violet’s shirt, we can hope he got a little sloppy and left at least a partial print.”
“But you don’t think that’s the case,” Weston says.
“No,” Jack replies. “And so far, every lead we’ve chased has been a dead end. I’ve run facial recognition software on that partial image, and I have someone running the sketch we got from those girls. But my guess is, it’ll be another dead end.”
“What did they say about him?” I question.
“That he wore a hoodie and glasses. They said he told them he was in love with Anastasia and wanted to surprise her with a gift. Said that she would know it was from him. According to them, he was kind and charming. Nothing seemed weird.”
I grind my teeth together, helplessness settling over my shoulders like a heavy weight.
“The guy has to slip up sooner or later,” Leopold offers.
“If he’s been around since eighteen years ago, I’ll find out. Even if I have to comb through every record the FBI has.” Jack turns toward me. “You need to get her away from here. Somewhere he can’t reach her.”
“Wait, what?” Anastasia sniffles and stands. “I can’t leave.”
“If you don’t, you’re going to die,” Jack says. “Just like Violet, just like the others.”
Zane puts a hand on Weston’s shoulder to ground him as he clenches both hands into fists.
“He’s right.” She whirls on me, and I cross my arms, prepared for an argument. “If you’re not in his crosshairs, maybe he’ll get desperate and slip up.”
“Or maybe he decides I’m not worth his time and moves on to someone else before you can stop him. I’d rather draw fire than leave someone else to catch a bullet.”
The image of Anastasia falling backward, blood saturating her shirt, her eyes wide and lifeless, assaults me. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m deadly serious.” She turns to Zane. “Zane?—”
“I’m in agreement with them,” he says. “So if you’re looking for an ally here, it’s not me. If this guy has never failed, the chances of him moving on to someone else are low. Every indication is that he’s obsessed. Men like that don’t just turn it off or redirect. He will keep trying to reach you until he does…or he’s caught.”
“So, what, I go somewhere and hide until he finds me?”
“No. We go where he can’t find you,” I tell her. “And we wait for him to slip up while he hunts you.”
“Hunts me. Like I’m an animal.”
“To him, you are,” Jack tells her. “No matter what happened between us, the last thing I want to do is add your picture to the victim board right there next to your friend. So, either you go with Sawyer, or I will place you in protective custody myself.”
Chapter 18
Anastasia
