Fear No Evil

“Dammit!” Connor exclaimed. “I can’t sit around here and do nothing.”

“What do you suggest we do, Mr. Kincaid?” Peterson said. “Where would you look? The world is a big place. We’ve narrowed his network down to the North American continent, but from Canada to the Panama Canal? A lot of territory to cover. Kate shares her technology with me, and I give it to the powers that be. They’re tracking him just like Kate is. Thing is, she’s on it twenty-four/seven. She eats, sleeps, and breathes this bastard. If anyone is going to find him, it’s her.”

“Even with all her mistakes?” Connor questioned. “The traps and the dead ends? Sounds like she should be ignored.”

“It sounds bad, but you have to understand the environment we’re in. Kate provides information with reservation. She doesn’t know if it’s legitimate, but she can’t in good conscience withhold it. In the past, some people have jumped the gun and then blamed her when the operation went south.”

“She’ll go after him on her own if she believes she knows where he is,” Dillon said quietly.

Peterson impatiently tapped his fingers on the table as he stared at the screen. “You have her pegged.”

“May I?” Dillon motioned to the computer.

“Be my guest.”

Peterson walked to where Nick and Carina stood in the corner. They spoke quietly as Dillon put himself in the mind-set of a vigilante FBI agent ridden with guilt and anger. And pain. Lots of pain.

He began typing.

Kate, my name is Dillon Kincaid and I’m Lucy’s brother.

User not online.

I think you are online. I think you’re waiting for word from Quinn Peterson. Listen to me. We need your help.

User not online.

Lucy is eighteen years old. She graduated from high school yesterday. She’s smart and beautiful and the youngest of seven kids. I’m her oldest brother.

User not online.

Lucy’s going to Georgetown in the fall. She wants to be a diplomat. She’s well versed in languages, speaks four fluently. She loves Irish folk music and Cuban rock.

User not online.

Eleven years ago my nephew was murdered. Justin and Lucy were best friends, seven years old, and Justin was kidnapped from his bed and killed. My older sister Nelia never recovered from Justin’s murder. My family was changed forever. My sister Carina and two of my brothers became cops, wanting to stop predators like the one who killed Justin. I became a forensic psychiatrist. I get into the heads of killers. I think I can find Trask. I can find this predator who kills women for pleasure and profit. But I need your help.

Nothing.

Dillon’s heart pounded. Had he hit a nerve?

Belatedly,

User not online.

“You’re online, Kate,” Dillon mumbled, “and you’re going to talk.” He turned to Patrick. “Start a trace.”

FIVE

NO ONE WAS in the room. It was just her, half-naked, and the damn blinking red eye of a camera. Filming her.

Lucy didn’t know exactly what was happening, but she feared her life was on the line. After all, she’d seen their faces. Isn’t that what she’d always heard? If you can identify them, they won’t let you go.

They’re going to kill me.

Her face burned remembering how Trevor had told someone that she was a virgin. He’d been standing in the corner, talking into a phone, as if he were a game-show announcer, talking about paying to watch her.

She might be a virgin, but she wasn’t so naive that she didn’t know exactly what he meant. He was going to rape her.

She swallowed, a sob escaping before she could stop the betraying sound of fear. She didn’t want to show him anything. No emotion. She’d lie there and let him do whatever he was going to do. She remembered Carina teaching her how to fight back, giving Lucy a top-notch self-defense class every couple of months. Kick, scratch, scream, run. Get away.

None of it helped when you were already tied up.

But she’d also learned that rapists got off on the fight, on subduing their victims. He’d called her “feisty,” as if that were a good thing, a fun thing. She wouldn’t do it. She’d bite her tongue before she screamed or begged for mercy.

The blinking eye bothered her, though. The camera. They were recording her. Why? To watch the rape over and over again? So he could show it to his sick friends?

Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed it uneasily, the vomit burning. She swallowed again.

Hold it together, Lucy. Think.

Someone would find her. They had to. By now her family knew she was missing. It was dark, late at night or early morning, she didn’t know.

They would be looking for her. Connor and Carina and Patrick and Dillon-and they had friends in high places. She had to hold on to that hope. And anything that might happen; well, put that aside. Put that away. Surviving was the most important thing. Everything else, she could deal with in time, right?

But her life-she had to survive, whatever brutality they had planned for her.

Where was she? The room was dimly lit, probably just bright enough for her body to be filmed. There was a single window, but the blinds were drawn. Two doors. She knew one led to a hall. The other? A bathroom? Closet? She didn’t know.

Trevor had brought her here on a boat. She’d heard something about an island. One of the guys said they were approaching an island.

What island? Catalina? Avalon? How could that be? Too many people and tourists. Maybe he’d taken her south, to an island off Mexico. Away from America, from safety.

The blinking eye of the camera mocked her. Lu-cy. Lu-cy.

“Enjoy the show for free” Trevor had said.

Was that camera live?

Her body involuntarily shook and she groaned out a cry of misery. How? What was he doing with it? Could people see her right now? Like this?

She pulled at her restraints, but they were tight.

“You fucking bastard!” she screamed. “Let me go!” Lucy strained and pulled.

On the other side of the door, someone laughed. It wasn’t Trevor.

It was a female voice. And it didn’t sound completely…right.

That scared Lucy even more.

Kate typed.

User not online.

Dillon Kincaid was persistent, she would give him that. Why was she even reading his pleas? She should have