Her blush deepened, and Weston drank it in. It was far better than the stark fear that had been in her eyes an hour ago. Avery’s words had been ringing in his head on repeat.
That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. How many more people will die?
Her concern for the victims—including potential ones, like Weston—didn’t surprise him. Spending every day and night together had given him a crash course in Avery. She was a nurturer, and the killer was zeroing in on her Achilles' heel.
As if she were reading Weston’s thoughts, the smile melted from Avery’s face. She glanced at the back door and the investigators inside. “I hate this.”
“We all hate it.” He elbowed her gently. “You’re not in this alone.”
“I know, but he’s going after these people because of me. To torture and hurt me. It’s…”
“Sick and demented.” He pinned her with a look. “And not your fault.”
“Doesn’t feel that way.”
“Do you blame your dad? The Chessmaster is aiming for you, because of actions your dad took.”
“My dad didn’t do anything—” Her gaze narrowed. “I see where you’re going with this.”
“Good.” He stole another sip of her coffee, wincing at the sugary sweetness. “And next time you order coffee, can you make it black? This stuff is awful.”
She swiped the cup back. “No one is forcing you to drink it.”
The backyard gate clanged shut. Luke came around the side of the house seconds later. His expression was thunderous. “Mike Steel is missing.”
“How?” Weston stood. “He was being watched by undercover officers.”
“Apparently, he hasn’t been home since Rachel went missing. His lawyer claims Mike isn’t under arrest and is free to leave town. He refuses to disclose his client’s location. I’m getting a court order to compel him to tell us, but honestly, I suspect he doesn’t know.”
“So we can’t eliminate Mike as a suspect,” Avery said. “And things with Tom are as clear as mud.”
“Fill me in,” Luke said.
Weston hooked his thumbs on his pockets. “Tom’s computers are locked down with a security password, so it’s taking time to get into them. We have a BOLO out on his SUV. There’s no sign of Rachel anywhere in the house, although the techs are still fingerprinting. We’ve also confirmed Nolan and Tom are half-brothers.”
“How?”
“Tom’s mom. Additionally, Tom visited Nolan in prison and listed himself as a brother in their records. He was Nolan’s emergency contact.”
Luke rocked back on his heels. “So we can’t eliminate anyone as a suspect. Nolan, Tom, or Mike could be behind this.”
“I—” Avery’s phone rang. She glanced at the number and paled. “It’s blocked.”
The Chessmaster. Weston pulled out his own cell and started recording. “Answer it, Avery.”
She squared her shoulders and hit the button flashing on the screen. “Hello.”
“Congratulations, Avery.” The man used a voice distorter, as he had during the previous phone call. “You saved my brother’s house before it burned to the ground. He’ll be happy.”
“I want to speak with Tom,” Avery said.
“He’s indisposed at the moment.”
Weston’s gaze narrowed. The killer was playing with them. Tom could be the Chessmaster, or he could be one of his victims. They had no way of knowing for sure.
“Where is Rachel?” she asked.
The Chessmaster laughed.
The killer actually laughed. Weston gripped his cell phone harder and took a deep breath to keep his emotions in check. This man was never going to see the outside of a jail cell. He would make sure of it.
“Right to the point, aren’t you, Avery? As a matter of fact, Rachel is the reason I’m calling. I’ve been thinking about what you said during our last phone call. You’re right. It’s not fair to remove your chess pieces without providing an opportunity to get one back.”
Chess pieces. The man was talking about people, not that he cared. But the words chewed through Weston’s gut with their coldness.
“So I would like to propose a trade,” he continued. “You for Rachel.”
Weston’s breath lodged in his chest. He wouldn’t let the killer anywhere near Avery.
Not on his watch. Not ever.
Avery arched her brows. “I want a guarantee you won’t hurt Rachel. And I want proof she’s alive.”
“It’s already done. Tell Ranger Donovan to check his email.”
Weston quickly scrolled to the right app on his phone. Indeed there was a new email, sent moments ago. The sender was listed as the Chessmaster. He opened it, every heartbeat thundering in his ears. Rachel’s wide eyes stared back at him from the screen. Terror was etched across her features. She was sitting in a dark room next to a television tuned to a local news channel broadcasting live from Tom’s house.
Avery lifted her own phone closer to her mouth. A vein in her forehead throbbed. “When and where?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon with further instructions.”
Grass crunched under Weston’s boots as he swept the perimeter of the Madison house with his flashlight. His nerves were on edge and he couldn’t sleep. The team had spent hours developing a plan to ambush the Chessmaster during the trade for Rachel, but there were too many unknowns to make it foolproof.
His cell phone beeped with an incoming text message. After reading it, he circled to the front of the house.
Grady got out of his truck. “Thought you might want an update, not that it’s a great one.”
Weston’s shoulders tightened. “We’ve still got nothing.”
“Yep. We can’t determine if Tom is the Chessmaster, or one of his victims. Tom left work around six. A neighbor saw an SUV like the one Tom drives in the neighborhood around six thirty, but she didn’t notice who was behind the wheel. There weren’t any fingerprints in the house other than Tom’s.”
“His cell phone?”
“Missing. We’ve tried pinging it, but it’s been turned off. The last known location was the post office parking lot.” Grady zipped his jacket closed. “The Chessmaster could’ve ambushed Tom as he left work. Incapacitated him, turned off his cell, and drove Tom’s vehicle—with Tom inside—to his house. Staged the mannequin, started the fire, and booked it.”
Weston raked a hand through his
