After the Dark Page 7

  * * *

  SAMANTHA WAS FAR too conscious of the gun’s weight at her back as she climbed down the wooden stairs. The pier was located at the base of the bluff, and in that narrow beach area, the wind seemed to make a tunnel, almost moaning around her.

  This section wasn’t used much. The last big tropical storm had washed away part of the bluff—and the pier. As she eased onto the pier, she saw the missing slats of wood. It swayed beneath her feet, and she was worried she’d tumble into the water at any moment.

  She looked straight ahead, trying to see through the growing fog. The perp had told her to get on the boat. She figured there would be a phone waiting there for her. He would call her, give her more directions. More orders to follow. He was a very, very organized killer. Meticulous.

  The organized killers were the most dangerous ones.

  A piece of wood cracked beneath her foot and gave way, bobbing into the water as she staggered. She was a good swimmer, so she wasn’t afraid about taking a tumble into the water. If she had to do it, she could swim out into the bay and find that perp herself.

  But...

  Something is off. Every instinct had screamed that truth at Samantha as she inched along the old pier. The middle section was completely underwater, the old boards sagging as she sloshed across them.

  The perp wanted her. He’d killed one woman to find Samantha’s location. He’d abducted a second in order to draw her out. She reached the end of the pier. The boat bobbed beside her, a motorboat that waited for her. She started to ease down into the boat, but then she stilled. Something isn’t right. That had been the thought she had when she confronted Allan March. A sense that the whole setup was wrong. She’d been correct that terrible day and now...

  She retreated back onto the pier. Her head turned, and she gazed through the fog, trying to see if there was another boat out there, one that held the perp as he watched her.

  But...

  I don’t see any lights. It could just be due to the fact that the perp had killed his lights and anchored his boat just beyond her sight. He could be watching her from the water right then, using night vision binoculars. Or...

  She looked back toward land. Houses were up there, easily several dozen old cabins that dotted the bluff. A few of those places were condemned—they’d been too damaged in the last storm. Abandoned houses. An abandoned house would be the perfect place to hide with a victim.

  Maybe he wasn’t in the water at all. At least, not any longer. Maybe he’d been in the water when he brought that motorboat to shore. Maybe he’d taken refuge in one of the houses on the bluff and then called her with his little plan.

  The better to watch me.

  But if that were the case, then why would he want her to get into the boat?

  Why...

  A phone rang. Its cry was loud, jarring her and making her jump. Her gaze shot back to the boat. She didn’t see the phone, but the sound was coming from the small vessel. The perp had left a phone for her to find, just as she’d suspected he would.

  Had he placed the phone there, giving her exactly fifteen minutes to reach the boat before he called? Or... Is he watching me even now? And he realizes that I didn’t get into the boat? He’s trying to draw me closer. If she wanted to save Tammy White, she was supposed to get in that boat. She was supposed to climb in and answer the phone. But...

  Something is off.

  The phone stopped ringing.

  Think like the killer. There were some habits that she couldn’t break.

  And a door seemed to open in her mind. He’s organized. Smart. It’s like a game of chess to him. He’s connected to Cameron. Wants to emulate him...that was what he did with Kristy Wales. He tried to duplicate Cameron’s crimes as a way to get to me.

  He wants me.

  He...blames me?

  Her gaze darted to the boat once more. Oh, hell.

  He wants to eliminate me. Everyone else is just collateral damage. Everyone else—

  The phone rang again.

  She spun away from the boat, trying to lunge down the pier as she fled.

  * * *

  SAMANTHA WAS RUNNING away from the boat. As soon as he saw her spin around, Blake took off.

  Something spooked Samantha. His gaze shot around him, searching the darkness for any sign of the perp. Maybe Samantha had seen something to make her think the perp wasn’t out in the water. Maybe he was up there with Blake, maybe—

  That was when he heard the explosion. Deep, rumbling, quaking like thunder, the explosion seemed to rock everything around him. His gaze flew back to the pier, and he saw the fire, shooting high up—red-and-gold flames. The boat was gone. The end of the pier was gone, and Samantha—she was gone.

  * * *

  HE RUSHED DOWN the stairs. The fire was blazing, crackling. “Samantha!” He jumped over the last seven steps and hit the small beach at a run. The pier had broken loose in big, thick chunks and those chunks were on fire. He hurried forward—

  Another explosion erupted, this one near the middle of the pier, sending chunks of wood flying into the air, making the smoke and fire billow and sending him flying back through the air. He landed hard, but he had the sand to cushion his fall. Blake shoved back up to his feet, his heart racing in his chest.

  The son of a bitch set a trap for Samantha. He planted bombs out here, in this secluded spot, and he lured Samantha into his web. He watched, and he waited, and when the time was right, he detonated.

  Because he wanted Samantha dead.

  Blake didn’t head for the remains of the pier. Another bomb could be there, ready to go off at any moment. He rushed toward the water, immediately sinking to his knees in the waves. “Samantha!” he bellowed her name as he lunged forward. “Samantha!” The water hit his waist, and he kept going, desperate to find her. He wasn’t about to leave that water without her.

  Not Samantha. Not—

  He saw a hand flash up through the water, about twenty yards in front of him. Then Samantha’s head broke the surface.

  Time seemed to stop for him. Alive. She’s alive.

  He dived into the water, swimming fast and hard for her as the fire raged on the remnants of the pier. His arms moved in a blur, his feet kicked and soon Samantha reached out to him, curling her arms around his shoulders.

  “I’m okay.” She was out of breath, treading water. “I had to...stay under until it was clear...”

  He yanked her against his body, held her close. A shudder shook him.

  “I’m okay,” she said again. Her breath still panted out. “I jumped into the water...right before the explosion... Something was off... Knew it...”

  He held her tighter. “He wanted you dead.” His hands flew over her, frantic, because he had to be sure she was all right. Whole—safe in his arms.

  Her arm curled around his neck. “We can’t go directly back to...the beach. He might be waiting.”

  “Damn straight,” Blake said grimly as they began to swim parallel to the shore. That blast and the fire lighting the sky would bring help their way. When Lewis and the others saw those flames, they’d come running. But if he and Samantha went straight back to the beach and the old steps that led up to the bluff, the killer could pick them off when they came ashore...and long before the help ever arrived.

  “But what about Tammy?” She glanced back at the flames. “Is she—”

  “I don’t know.” The sooner they got to a safe shore spot and circled back to the SUV, the better. We can’t be the hunted. We have to turn him into prey. “But we’ll get her, Samantha. We’ll get her back.”

  She didn’t speak again. They swam in the dark water, and the fire raged behind them.

  * * *

  THE FIRE WAS PRETTY.

  He took a moment to admire the way it lit up the sky.
Big and bold, rather like the fireworks he’d seen when he spent his summers in Martha’s Vineyards.

  It had been easy to set the bombs—two of them. One on the motorboat. One just beneath the pier. Almost anyone could make bombs these days, with just a handy internet search, but he’d actually spent time researching bomb-making for quite a while.

  One of his “phases” as his father called them. When he liked to explore destruction and death.

  Bombs had interested him, once upon a time, but he’d decided they weren’t intimate enough. Sure, they could do a lot of damage, very fast, but...

  As Dr. Latham had told him, the knife was an intimate weapon.

  I only used the bomb because I didn’t want to get too close to Samantha. He’d actually seen a story on the news months ago about Samantha Dark and a bomb. She’d barely escaped another case where someone tried to use a bomb to take her out. It had seemed fitting, using a bomb again.

  It was dangerous to get close to her. Dr. Latham had gotten close to her...

  And now he’s gone. She took him away.

  He watched the flames crackle. A lot of the fire had already gone out, thanks to that black water. He didn’t see Agent Gamble. The man was probably still in the water, still searching for Samantha.

  Would she be burned when he found her? Disfigured? The classic beauty Latham had once spoken of gone forever? Oh, he hoped so.

  It would be a treat to see Agent Gamble carry her broken body from the bay. To watch as the agent stood there, so lost without her.

  But he could hear the scream of sirens, coming in the distance. If he lingered too long, cops would be there, not that the local cops scared him.

  He’d completed his mission. Finished what Dr. Latham had started. Now he could evolve. He could go to the next step, he could—

  It was the faintest movement that caught his eye.

  The fog wasn’t as thick near the shoreline, and the moonlight shone down just right...just enough for him to see a man swimming. Strong, hard, a good distance away, not near the burning pier at all.

  He could see the man’s dark head. He approached the shore, splashing out of the water, and he knew it was Agent Gamble. Agent Gamble turned, stretched out his hand behind him—

  No, fucking no.

  And his fingers curled around her hand. Samantha splashed after him. They ran onto the little beach and hurried toward the cover of the trees.

  She hadn’t died. She hadn’t paid for her crimes. She’d escaped, like a damn cat with nine lives.

  Rage twisted in his gut, and he took a lurching step toward them.

  But the cry of the sirens came again, louder this time, closer, and he knew that he couldn’t finish Samantha right then.

  But he’d have his chance with her soon enough. After all, he still had the one thing she wanted. The victim.

  * * *

  “WE CAN’T LET him get away,” Samantha said. The wind whipped against her, and she shivered as her teeth began to chatter. When the explosion had first hit, she’d stayed under the water until she thought her lungs would burst. She’d tried hard to swim away from the pier even as the flames lit the sky. “Get the...cops... Search the area. He has Tammy close—”

  Blake pulled her against him. She could hear the shriek of sirens. Captain Lewis and his team were rushing to the scene.

  “You’re freezing.” Worry filled Blake’s voice.

  She was freezing, no doubt, but she was alive, so she’d just suck it up and deal with the cold. “I think he has Tammy in...in one of the abandoned houses on the bluff... W-we have to search for—”

  He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. She could feel the heat of his body, and she wanted to press herself against him. He was warm and strong and she felt safe with him.

  “Thought I’d lost you...” His words were so low and...there was something about his tone. Something dark. Dangerous.

  Samantha glanced up at him.

  “I can’t lose you.”

  The sirens were louder. “We have to go,” she said, “we have to help find the perp. We need to get Tammy.”

  He eased back. “We will get her. And that SOB.”

  In the next instant, his hand had locked tightly around hers. They were running through the trees—twisting pines and old oaks that had limbs heavy with moss—as she and Blake circled back toward his rented SUV. He rushed to the vehicle, and she was right with him. He opened his door and—

  Patrol cars screeched to a stop, the sound of their squealing tires and lurching brakes hurting her ears. Bright headlights illuminated the scene, and she heard a rough voice call out, “Freeze! Put your hands up!”

  Blake turned in the light, putting his body in front of hers. “FBI,” he shouted. “Agent Blake Gamble. The perp is still here. We need to start searching the scene now.”

  Yes, they did...before the guy vanished into the shadows once again.

  * * *

  THE PERP WAS GOOD, Blake would give him the fuck that. The local cops and FBI agents had fanned out fast, and they’d made short work of searching the abandoned houses on the bluff. One house had shown signs of a squatter, a place littered with old food and debris, but whoever had been there—he was long gone.

  They’d found blood in a second house. One with boards on its busted windows and a front door that had been sagging open. Captain Lewis had ordered a crime scene team to the house so they could take care of collecting that bit of evidence.

  The problem was...it had been a whole lot of blood. Too much.

  If Tammy White is alive, I’m not sure how long she has left.

  But the perp—he’d gotten away. Probably just driven away when the cop cars had been screeching up to the scene.

  “You didn’t get a look at the guy?” Captain Lewis asked him now. He was pacing near Blake’s SUV. Samantha stood to the side, a borrowed Fairhope PD jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Lewis had given her that jacket—a jacket that dwarfed her fragile frame.

  “Didn’t see him,” Blake said. “Just the explosion.”

  Lewis swore. “Hate this shit is happening in my town. It’s not supposed to happen here. Sammie...” He pointed at Samantha. “You know this is a good town, a quiet place. A safe place.”

  “It’s always been my safe place,” Samantha said, her words low, just carrying to their little group. “That’s why I came back.”

  Lewis shifted closer to her—and the guy even gave her an awkward pat on the back. “You needed to come home.”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed. The police captain was built like a former linebacker, and energy seemed to crackle in the air around him. He was over thirty years Samantha’s senior, but there was a definite sharpness about him. This guy was no small-town hick. And this man knows Samantha, very well. Well enough that concern thickened his voice when he spoke to her. Samantha had said Lewis was the only father she’d had since she was thirteen, and right then, there was no missing the concern in Lewis’s eyes. The captain cared for her, deeply.

  “We’re catching him,” Lewis vowed now. “This punk isn’t coming here to terrorize my people. He’s not going to try to hurt you, not on my watch. If your dad knew what was happening...”

  Samantha’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of her father. Blake wanted to know a whole lot more about Samantha’s dad.

  “This man is highly intelligent.” She spoke without any emotion. “He’s a determined killer. Methodical. He’s planning out his attacks in careful detail.”

  “The smart killers are always the most dangerous,” Lewis muttered.

  She nodded. “I still believe that Tammy White is alive. I think that blood we found was hers. He stashed her in that house so he could come and get an up-close view of my death.”

  Only, that didn’t happen.

 
“He had a car waiting. He drove off before the cavalry could arrive. There are so many old roads that snake through this town—he was able to slip away clean.” Her breath heaved out. “But I believe that the perp is going to make contact with us again.”

  “Why?” Lewis demanded. “The guy should be running for the hills, covering his tracks. If he’s so smart, he knows we’re all after him now, closing in, and he—”

  “He didn’t get what he wanted.” Simple words. “He didn’t kill me.”

  And that isn’t going to happen. Not on my watch.

  Lewis pointed a shaking finger at Blake. “You’re FBI! I did some digging on you. You’re supposed to be some hotshot...”

  He was? Since when?

  Lewis took an aggressive step toward him. “Why the hell did you let him get away? If he was close enough for him to nearly kill Sammie, then he was close enough for you to grab!” The captain shook with accusation. “This is on you, agent. You should have stopped him! Tammy White would be on her way to a hospital and you—”

  “Stop.” Samantha’s hand curled around Lewis’s arm.

  Immediately, Lewis seemed to sag in on himself.

  “Blake went to help me. When the first bomb went off, I was in the water. He didn’t...” Samantha shot him a quick glance. “He didn’t know if I was alive or dead. We were partners at the FBI. A partner always watches your back. His job was to come after me. To help me. He jumped into the water for me.”

  And he wouldn’t have gone out without her. But not just because they’d been partners. Because she was so much more to him.

  “A partner always watches your back.” Lewis’s voice had gone soft as he repeated her. “Well, then...” Lewis nodded once, seemingly coming to some sort of decision. “You keep doing that shit, Agent Gamble. Because if something happens to Sammie, I’ll be coming after you myself.” Someone called out for the captain, and he said, “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

  Samantha watched him walk away. “Sorry,” she said, her voice still lacking emotion. “Sometimes, his protective instincts can come out a bit too strong.”

  Blake wanted to put his arms around her and pull her against him—the fear was still like acid burning his blood. But there were too many eyes on them. “Sometimes?” he murmured. “Sometimes, Sammie?”