Page 87 of Knox

“They want to use you as bait,” I said flatly.

“We want to catch a serial killer before he kills again,” Darvis corrected. “And yes, that involves some risk. But you’d have the full protection of the FBI. Round-the-clock surveillance. Immediate tactical response. And you, Mr. Hawthorne, along with your team.”

“No.” I didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely not.”

Sloane looked at me, surprised. “Knox⁠—”

“I said no. We’re not dangling you out there hoping this psychopath takes the bait.” I turned to Darvis. “Find another way.”

“There may not be another way,” Reid said. “Every hour he’s free is another hour he could be planning, preparing. Or he could already be targeting someone new. Another hiker. Another woman who fits his victim profile.”

The guilt play. I’d seen it before. But I wouldn’t sacrifice Sloane’s safety to catch Lehman, no matter how many theoretical future victims there might be.

“Sheriff Sullivan said you’d resist this idea,” Darvis said. “I respect that. You’re protecting someone you care about. But Ms. Mercer deserves to have all the information before making a decision.” She turned to Sloane. “This is ultimately your choice.”

Sloane was quiet for a long moment. “What would it involve? Specifically.”

“Don’t,” I warned.

But she ignored me, her attention fixed on Darvis.

“You’d maintain your normal routine as much as possible,” Darvis explained. “Go to work, run errands, but always with protection. We’d have agents stationed around your property, monitoring all access points. Any movement toward you, any approach by Lehman, we’d have multiple response teams ready to move in within seconds.”

“How long would this last?”

“Until we catch him. Could be days, could be weeks.” Darvis’s expression softened slightly. “I won’t lie to you, Ms. Mercer. There is risk involved. But we’d be using that risk to bring a serial killer to justice. To prevent him from hurting anyone else.”

“I need to think about it,” Sloane said.

“Of course. Take tonight. We’d like your answer by tomorrow.” Darvis stood, Reid following her lead. “In the meantime, rest assured that we are doing everything we can to find him.”

She pulled out two business cards, handing one to each of us. “My direct line. You see anything, hear anything, think of anything, call me immediately. Day or night.”

Darvis moved toward the door, Reid followed.

I locked up behind them.

Afterward, Sloane and I stood in the living room, the weight of everything settling over us.

“You’re not doing it,” I said. “The bait operation. You’re not.”

She looked up at me, batting tear-filled eyes.

“Don’t,” I pleaded.

“Seven women are dead.” She sniffled, cheeks red and fighting to maintain her composure. “Seven families have been destroyed. And there could be more we don’t even know about. If there’s a chance—any chance at all—that I can help stop him from doing this to someone else…I have to take it. It’s the only right thing to do.”

“It’s not your responsibility,” I tried.

Sloane shook her head. “It’s the right thing to do.”

I pulled her into my arms, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I can’t lose you. I can’t watch you put yourself in danger and hope the FBI’s fast enough, good enough, lucky enough to stop him before he gets to you.”

“You won’t lose me.”

“You can’t promise that.”

She pulled back to look at me, and the emotions I’d been fighting since I’d first received a call about Mom’s heart attack rose to the surface in a geyser.