“And unofficially?” Jonah Watson asked.
“I wasn’t going to let the New Castle Killer get away with what he’d done, considering it was my fault Tad Marrow ended up a victim in the first place.” Guilt stole his concentration as memories battled to escape. Dylan focused on the documents in the file in front of him, not seeing anything specific. “He came to me, said he felt like he was being watched and asked if I’d look into it. I was so wrapped up in the New Castle Killer case, I brushed him off. Turned out, he was right.”
“Now you think someone uncovered the New Castle Killer’s identity and is out for revenge.” Finnick Reed hunched over the crime scene photos. “Del Howe obviously came to Oregon for you, Remi. Barring the possibility you or Cove is the killer and you’re keeping that bit of information to yourself, we’re looking at victims’ family members, possibly another investigator on the case who feels as guilty as you do or another serial who isn’t too keen on sharing his territory. The Carver didn’t take too kindly to his protégé going after Camille. Turns out, serial killers can get very territorial over their prey.”
Hell, Cove hadn’t even thought of that. Another killer? His gaze slid to Remi, and the edges of his vision blurred. If Del Howe hadn’t been killed in that cabin last night, would he have come for Remi next? Would Dylan have found her in the middle of her office or her house tied to a chair, her skin sliced more than a hundred times? Numbness coursed through him at the thought of losing her as the anchor who’d kept him from going too far with his private investigation into Howe, who’d been his lifeline to keeping him on this side of the law.
“What do you need from us, Chief?” Beckett Foster asked.
Dylan studied the faces looking up at their chief with nothing but drive and determination. All three of these men had battled against their greatest fears and death to protect the people they cared about. Beckett with his fugitive, Finnick with his witness, Jonah with his prosecutor. He focused on the hard bite of Remi’s nails into the surface of the table then studied the curve of her cheekbones. Dylan would do the same.
“Should be simple enough. We’re going to find a killer. Beckett, look into the victims’ family members. I want to know if any of them is in or around Oregon. Jonah, I need you to poke around the personnel files for officers who worked the original investigation from the New Castle Sheriff’s Department. See if any of them might still be digging into the case. Finn, you and Camille have the most experience with serials in this area. You’re going hunting.” Camille, the witness the serial from Chicago had targeted for over a year after he failed to kill her outright.
Remi rested her right hand on her sidearm and the other on her opposite hip, every inch the leader Dylan had come to respect these past few years. “This is an unofficial investigation. Everything we do here has to be off the books. That means no USMS resources and nothing available digitally. We’re going old school, and what we find stays between us. If Gresham PD gets the smallest hunch we’re working this case, there will be hell to pay. Everything comes through me.” She nodded at Dylan. “And nobody makes a mistake.”
CHAPTER THREE
Remi punched the six-digit code into the keypad beside the dead bolt and waited for the lock to disengage. A long driveway disappeared to the back of the safe house, four light-stained pillars standing guard at her back. The property had been part of an ongoing case in which the owner had lost her home and the surrounding land due to her involvement with prostitution and illegal immigration.
Nobody would be looking for her here.
Her boots echoed off the tile of the grand entryway as she turned to secure the dead bolt. To her left, a two-storied living space climbed high overhead; to the right, a small office she never intended to use. Too exposed with the large front window overlooking the wraparound porch and street. Remi rounded into the main room and pulled the cord to the right of the windows to cut off the view from the street. She couldn’t go back to her apartment. Despite the fact Del Howe—the man who’d been surveilling her—had been found dead, there was a chance the person who’d killed him was connected to the New Castle Killer case. What better way to satisfy a craving for revenge than to target the former sheriff who’d let the killer slip away?
Movement registered from the other side of the window a split second before three knocks filled the entryway, and she reached for her sidearm. “I know you’re in there, Sheriff. I might not be a private investigator anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to tail someone without them noticing.”
Dylan Cove. She held her breath. Hand still poised over her weapon, she rounded back into the entryway and pressed her free hand against the door. He wasn’t supposed to be here. “What are you doing here, Cove?”
“Did you really think I was going to let you take on whoever killed Del Howe alone?” he asked.
How had he...? Three breaths. Four. She unlocked and opened the door. Centered in the frame, Dylan’s features demanded every cell in her body to rise to attention. A flood of appreciation charged through her, and Remi tightened her grip on the doorknob. “You followed me because you think I can’t take care of myself.”
“Hell, no. I followed you because I didn’t want to miss the show when you caught up with the perp who took out the New Castle Killer.” His laugh rumbled from low in his chest and chased back the defensiveness tightened the muscles down her spine.
Dylan raised the black duffel bag at his side into her
