Jane rushedto park by the Greenbelt near the animal shelter where Christian had dropped off the Coatneys’ dog, a brief text to Diego to let him know she’d rerouted.
The boy had been such a help, such a great kid caring for animals, drawing their pictures and doing his best to earn extra money since his family didn’t have nearly enough.
She refused to let his life end too soon.
Normally, she’d call her cousin for help. Or even Jenn. But she didn’t trust Victor not to kill Christian if she broke the rules. Someone had been following her for miles before pulling away a minute ago.
Once out of her car, she hurried to the trunk to grab her weapon and her vest. Tossing the vest on, she raced into the Greenbelt.
The sun remained high, so she didn’t have shadows to hide in until she went deeper into the labyrinth of greenery. It would be a nightmare to find Victor if he didn’t want to be found.
But she had a guide, apparently.
Standing at the mouth of a footpath, a scared boy, younger than Christian, holding a note waved to her. The moment she took the note, he scampered away.
“Wait!”
Too late. He was gone.
But the note had a rough map scaled by paces and a couple of large trees.
She had been through something like this before, back when she’d fought the Red Ribbon Killer. But those woods had been somewhat civilized in a forested area of Bainbridge Island. Not like this tangle of unrestrained vines, shrubs, and trees belonging to the city.
Doing her best to focus on everything around her, paying attention to sound especially, she tuned out the city’s roaring vehicles and heard voices to her right.
There, she spotted a tent and two older men. She held up a gun and put a finger to her lips. Then she pointed to her FBI vest.
One of the men nodded and pointed to his right.
She continued, passing a few other hideaways where people were living, doing their best to exist.
No one bothered her. One woman hurried in the opposite direction with two children.
Jane had to be getting closer.
The cool shadow of canopy overhead blocked the sun and added to the chill sliding over her. With only two weeks until October, Seattle had decided to slide away from summer. She hoped Christian had warm clothes, and that he would have a life to get back to once Jane ended Victor’s killing streak.
She finally found them in a small clearing. A tent and some family belongings had been strewn about, but she didn’t see anyone but Victor and Christian.
Tears ran down Christian’s dirty and bloodied cheeks. But he appeared otherwise unharmed, crouched by a tree and trying very hard to be invisible.
“Agent Cannon.” For once, Victor hadn’t hidden himself behind a hat or coat. He was tall with broad shoulders, but more ropy than muscular. Lean, like a boxer, his hands as large as oven mitts.
He held a serrated knife like a sacred friend and crouched next to the boy. When he drew himself up, he used Christian as a shield.
“Finally. We were getting tired waiting.”
“Let him go, Victor.”
“Fight me for him.” A beam of sunlight shone on Victor’s face. His eyes, a brighter gray than his brother’s, lacked sanity. She could almost taste his bloodlust, could see the way he eyed her up.
One predator to another.
Christian screamed as Victor dug the knife into his neck, not hard enough to kill, but to wound.
Jane aimed her pistol at Victor’s face, prepared to kill him until he shifted Christian once more, peering from behind the boy’s head.
“Drop the gun,” he said, amused. “Come on, little FBI girl. Fight me hand to hand.”
