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There was a knock on the door.
Brett turned to stone, his face hardened.
“Wha…” I looked at the door as it opened. We were in a hospital room. I could hear beeping in the background. A stale stench of disinfectant in the air.
Travis came inside, along with a woman I didn’t know. Dressed in dark slacks, a blue coat, her eyes were bland. She held up her badge. FBI.
“Willow,” Travis began, giving me a long and detached perusal.
He was here to ask me questions. I understood that, but I spoke before he could start the interrogation. To her. “Why weren’t you at the house with the others?”
Travis stopped midstride.
The woman’s eyebrows jumped up, and the two of them shared a look before she cleared her throat. She had dark hair pulled back in a wicked-tight hold. Dark brown skin, maybe five feet, eight inches tall. Slender build. Her blazer was tight against her body, showing the definition of her arms. She either lifted on a regular basis or did enough cardio to define her muscles. When Travis didn’t say anything, she pressed her lips together. “I’m Agent Cardiman. Or Nikki.”
“This is the profiler, Billie,” Travis added. “The one I told you about.”
She threw him a look before masking it. She wasn’t pleased with him. As she stepped closer to the bed, her head tilted to the side. “I’m here to try to get as much information as possible about your experience.” Her eyes turned inspecting, trained on me.
I shifted on the bed, drawing my legs up so I could turn and lean back against Brett’s chest. She noted the sequence of movements, her eyes narrowing and her lips softening. They didn’t smile or frown, they just weren’t in a hard line anymore. Her eyes dropped to Brett’s hand on my thigh, a strong and possessive hold.
Her gaze lifted back to my face, seeing that I was also watching her. A brief smile flashed over her face before it was gone just as quick. “You’re comfortable around law enforcement.” It was an observation.
I considered not correcting her, letting her have the wrong assumption, but instead I said, “I’m comfortable with Brett.” That was all I’d give her, though the truth was that yes, I was familiar with law enforcement. That was it. That was only it.
She shared another look with Travis before her shoulders rolled up, back, and down. “With your permission, I’d like to take you through an exercise. You were so close to…” She hesitated. “…to our suspect, and while we’ve watched the security—”
My heart lurched against my chest. “There was a camera? There’s footage?”
Travis nodded. “It’s not super clear, but we got details.”
“His license plate?”
“Out of range. He knew the camera was there. He waited until he was in the blind spot of Brett’s truck.”
“He knew Brett was doing the windows?”
Brett’s body tightened. My hand dropped to his, turning it and lacing our fingers.
Travis watched that happen before he answered. “Yes.”
“He didn’t think I’d gone in to pay?” That question rumbled from behind me.
“No.” Travis’ eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth turning down. “He watched you pay at the pump. He had a narrow window of a few seconds, and when Willow went to remove the nozzle, he moved in. It was his only opening, and he knew it.”
“What does that mean?” Brett asked.
“That means…” Agent Nikki answered, moving so her feet were planted and slightly ahead of Travis. “He’s smart. He probably figured he wouldn’t be able to get to you again. That also tells us he was watching, most likely waiting for an opening. When he saw it, he took it. And he was willing to risk going against a professional defensive end.”
“The slam was—” Travis started with a grin. But Nikki skewered him. He coughed. “I mean, he was willing to go against Brett.”
“That means he wasn’t worried,” she continued. “He was willing to risk trying for you, that tells us he’s confident in his abilities and that he could get away, which he did. He more than likely had an escape route planned ahead of time.”
“Planned for the gas station? How would he know we’d stop there?”
Travis stepped up beside her, answering me. “Because we think he’s been watching Brett as much as he’s been watching you.”
“And,” Nikki said, “we think he either knew it was Brett’s pattern to get gas in the evening or he has the ability to plan ahead. Serial killers usually only strike if it’s within their script of planning. They control everything. The fact he couldn’t have controlled what Brett would do means he’s not a normal serial killer. He’s either desperate or he’s adaptable. A serial killer who’s adaptable is even more dangerous.”
