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A charge on the senator’s card, right to Dr. Balog’s office, two years ago. Twice in the same month.
Fiona looked at Jake, her blood running like ice. This was it. Dr. Balog was a therapist, psychologist—and maybe a murderer, picking off his own former patients, one by one.
“Come on,” Jake said, closing the laptop, “let’s get this guy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Jake ripped his car into the parking lot of Dr. Balog’s office, his stomach tied in knots. This was it—he was sure of it. They finally had a lead, an undeniable connection between at least two of the victims.
It was dark out by the time Jake put the car in park, Fiona at her side, holding her breath. The stars perforated Portland’s light pollution, but there were still cars in the lot, and the lights were on inside the old house that had been converted into an office. According to their website, Dr. Balog’s office stayed open until seven p.m., so he could very well be in a session right now.
But Jake didn’t care. He’d break the door down if he had to.
Jake looked at Fiona, who had a tense, nervous expression on her face. “Same as last time,” he instructed her. “Stay back in case things get ugly.”
She nodded.
Jake got out of the car, his heart beating faster as he approached the front door. He felt like he was in a dream, almost unable to process that this could really be it. He was about to confront a potentially dangerous man—a murderer—and that thought filled him with an icy fear. He was surprised by the fear; Jake was a trained FBI agent, had been for years, and he’d faced off against some of the most deranged killers imaginable.
But he’d almost always had Lauren with him to have his back.
Of course there were times when he had to face off perps alone, without her support, but this whole case had been off.
He reminded himself that he could handle this. Dr. Balog wouldn’t stand a chance if he tried to escape. Jake was willing to go all in, because he felt it in his gut that they’d finally reached the end.
He kept going forward, pushing through his doubts until his hand wrapped around the doorknob. He could feel Fiona’s eyes on him as he twisted it open and stepped into the office.
Inside, a warm light seeped out, and it smelled like antiques and candles. The calm atmosphere caught him off guard; soft classical music played, and a receptionist looked up from a wide desk, wearing glasses.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Jake and Fiona stepped further into the building.
“We need to speak with Dr. Balog,” Jake said, trying to keep his voice even and steady. “It’s urgent.”
The woman adjusted her glasses and glanced over the top of them at him. “I’m sorry, Dr. Balog is in a session right now. Can I take a message?”
Jake could feel Fiona shifting nervously beside him, but he kept his gaze on the receptionist.Maybe it was a bad idea to burst in, but they had worked too hard to get here, only to wait around.
So Jake flashed his FBI badge. “Sorry, ma’am, but it’s important. We need to see him now.”
The receptionist’s face flushed. “Well, I can’t just let you in…”
Jake glanced past her at the door up the hall, which was closed and had an IN SESSION sign on it.
“Look,” Jake said, his voice stern. “We don’t want to cause a scene, but this is urgent. We need to see Dr. Balog right now.”
He let the words sink in, and after a moment of silence, the receptionistsimply nodded. Convinced she wasn’t going to make this harder than it had to be, Jake hurried up the hall, Fiona with him, and stopped right outside Dr. Balog’s door.
He reached for the doorknob. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
Dr. Balog was sitting behind a large desk, his face illuminated by the soft light of the lamps in the room. His patient was sitting in the chair opposite him, their conversation seemingly interrupted by Jake and Fiona’s abrupt entrance.
Dr. Balog’s expression changed from surprise to outrage when he saw them. He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, eyes flashing with anger. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he asked, voice dripping with contempt as he stared at them.
Jake stepped forward, noticing that Dr. Balog was even more imposing than he had expected. He had a tall frame and broad shoulders; a pair of glasses perched on his nose gave him an air of intellectual superiority that seemed to make the room itself shrink around them.
“FBI,” Jake said, flashing his badge. “We need to ask you some questions.”
