right to him.
But he didn’t want the feds or some other pest to track him down and make him rush the show.
Okay, there was a fed there. The blond with the holster. The way he moved, issued orders, definitely a fed.
He’d been right about Kate from the beginning. She was smarter than most, she understood him. He’d already confirmed that she’d fed the government information and they’d acted on it. And she was still watching, waiting, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy to find him.
Trask had to draw her out.
He saw her in cyberspace, among the hordes of people searching the Internet. She was sly, smart, focused. She had come close, before he’d been ready for her. He manually changed his frequency often now in order to thwart her.
But he was finally ready. Lucy Kincaid was the perfect bait. He’d send her another clue. Or maybe he’d just send her a message.
After he called the cell phone that sat in the dead girl’s hand, Trask closed his eyes to avoid the bright magnesium flash.
Soon the cabin, and all evidence, would be ashes.
And if the feds died in the process, who the hell cared?
FOURTEEN
IT WAS DARK, a thin orange line along the western horizon that quickly disappeared as Dillon watched. He’d found this vista point a hundred yards from the main observatory, with a couple of old benches and a well-worn path. He could picture Kate sitting here watching the sunset and thinking about revenge and guilt and justice.
Kate had angered him. He didn’t like that she’d gotten to him. It was the stress of no sleep and Lucy’s danger that had fueled his anger and frustration. Kate was just the spark that had set it off.
His brothers hadn’t argued about his decision not to go with them, probably because they felt that his presence would only hinder the operation. Maybe it would have. He didn’t have their training, but he did have something they didn’t: a key to the killer’s mind.
Dillon had the utmost respect for law enforcement-he worked with them daily. But the one thing they too often lacked was the killer’s motivation. The easiest way to track a criminal was to learn everything about his past, his family, his relationships, his associations. What drove a person to commit heinous crimes? Money? Fear? Lust?
The key was always there, in the past. Cops had too many cases and had to make too many quick decisions to take the time to process every step leading to the killer. That’s where Dillon came in. When the evidence wasn’t there, when there were no witnesses, when people were murdered and the police didn’t know which direction to go, Dillon could focus the investigation. Give them tools to find the killer and take him down.
Every killer feared something. What did Trask fear? Poverty? Sexual dysfunction? Loss of freedom? Women?
He hated women, that was abundantly clear. But what about a fear of women? He subjugated them to beat down the fear within himself. He was physically strong, but he also had men around him to ensure that the women were kept under control. He restrained the women, even when they were too weak to fight. Rape was about power and anger, but rape as a show? That was ego. Proving over and over that he had control over these women, proving it in front of the world.
For the benefit of everyone, or just one person?
Roger Morton was from a wealthy family, privileged. Yet he became the CEO of a pornography business and was disowned. You didn’t just walk away from millions of dollars to live out a sexual fantasy. There was money in porn, particularly online porn, but initially, Trask Enterprises had just been an up-start company and Roger couldn’t have been pulling in huge sums of money until after the Internet grew exponentially over the years.
Did Trask have money of his own? Investors? If he was wealthy in his own right, that held that he and Roger had known each other because they traveled in the same social circles.
Dillon was certain that Trask and Roger had known each other since childhood. It was not only logical considering the time line of Trask Enterprises, but there was a bond between the men that hadn’t been severed even when they were forced to disappear after Kate exposed April Klinger’s death.
Denise was a wild card. She was definitely the subservient in the relationship; she would do anything Trask asked of her. Yet she hated the women he brought in. Jealousy, deep and hot. What did she think of Trask’s obsession with Kate?
The more Dillon thought about it, the more he became convinced that Trask was luring Kate into a trap he’d created just for her. He would reveal himself only to her, probably threaten someone if she didn’t come alone. And because she had no fear of death-in fact, she welcomed it-she would go, thinking it would be worthwhile if she killed him in the process, regardless of what might happen to her.
It was that realization that calmed Dillon more than the time away from Kate’s room. He knew what she would do; he would have to be watchful that she didn’t take off without him.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jack saunter down the path, fully armed, wearing the guns and ammo and equipment comfortably.
“She’s trouble,” Jack said, collapsing on the stone bench that afforded him the best view of the path.
“She’s letting the past eat her alive,” Dillon said. He looked pointedly at Jack. “I’d always thought you’d done the same thing, but now I don’t think so.”
“Don’t go there, Dil. Let’s just do the op and go our separate ways.”
“The op.” Dillon shook his head, stared at the vast darkness around them. The temperature had dropped dramatically when the sun went down.
“You have to think of it as an operation. Distance yourself from the emotional complications.”
“Lucy is my sister. I can’t do that. It’s not an operation. It’s her
“I’ve dealt with a lot of life-and-death situations. You don’t have to explain it to me,” Jack said. “That’s why it’s even more important to separate your emotions from the job.”
Dillon understood what Jack was saying-he’d heard it from Carina and Connor and other cops who went out and dealt in murder. If you got emotionally involved with the victims you wouldn’t survive on the job.
But there was a reason doctors didn’t operate on relatives and cops didn’t investigate the murder of someone they cared about. You can’t separate your emotions from people you know and love.
“Any word from your men?” Dillon asked.
“They checked in when they had the island in sight, then went radio silent. That was twenty-five minutes ago.”
“Shouldn’t they have gotten back to you by now?”
“Not if they’re doing it right. Circle the island, verify security measures, find a safe place to dock, approach with caution. It’s unknown territory; they can’t just run in without reconnaissance.”
Dillon hoped that they had found Lucy. Safe. That they were bringing her home. Maybe he could convince Kate to come back to the States and seek some closure for what had happened with her partner and her lover five years ago.
But Kate wasn’t his patient, or his problem. She’d gotten under his skin, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t carefully extract her. He couldn’t save every lost soul in the world. Look at Nelia. He’d never told anyone in the family that he’d flown up to Idaho two years after Justin’s murder to talk to his sister Nelia with the purpose of bringing her home.
Nelia was nothing like he’d remembered. The light was gone from her eyes, and she told him she was dead inside. The only thing keeping her from suicide was the belief that she would go to Hell and never see Justin again. Faith? Perhaps, but it had done nothing to console her. And neither had Dillon. Everything he’d tried had failed.
When he’d finally suggested she see a psychiatrist so she could deal with her grief, she’d said, “I don’t want to let it go. It keeps Justin in the small part of my heart that still beats.”
