Chapter 30
Sloane
Agent Darvis called at eight sharp to share the news Nash had already delivered last night, and to set my arrival at the local sheriff’s department for ten.
I showered and dressed, choosing jeans and a sweater. The wind was heavy outside my window, bending trees and whistling around the doorframes. According to my weather app, a cool front had moved in while I slept. Hopefully, the angry gusts wouldn’t impede the search for the missing woman.
Knox had texted twice already. Updates from the field.
Local shops had set up tables to provide search teams with hot coffee and portable snacks, like Duck Donuts and egg sandwiches.
Deputy Lennox, the deputy the sheriff initially paired with Knox hadn’t shown up, but the sheriff took his place, which Knox preferred.
Knox hadn’t mentioned the weather, and I imagined little would stop him from doing this work.
Everything was moving along as expected.
I couldn’t wait to join the search.
I checked my watch. It was too early to leave and arrive at ten, but I was eager to get through this part of the day and join Knox.
He and Maggie, Colton and Archer, Sheriff Sullivan and the deputies.
There was a real chance of helping this woman.
Walter hadn’t had much time with her. I imagined he’d grabbed her in an act of rage after failing to reach me. Lashing out instead of making a plan.
If he stashed her somewhere, we might still find her alive.
I checked my watch again, never good at waiting. “What the hell.” I poured the rest of my coffee down the sink and grabbed my things. Maybe Agent Darvis could fit me in a little early if I was already there.
The garage was cool and dim when I entered through the interior door. My Audi sat where I’d left it days ago, and I climbed behind the wheel, tossing my purse onto the passenger seat.
The engine turned over smooth and steady.
I hit the garage door opener and smiled, thankful to have my life back. Grateful that Walter Lehman was in custody.
The door rolled up, revealing morning sunlight and a patrol car pulling into the driveway behind me.
My foot hit the brake. Hard.
A deputy emerged from the cruiser, adjusting his hat as he walked toward my garage. Stocky build. Confident stride. One palm raised in friendly greeting.
Something twisted in my gut. Was there bad news from the field?
Was Knox hurt? Had they found the woman? Had they discovered the worst?
I stayed in the vehicle, engine running, watching him approach through the windshield.
He stopped just outside the garage entrance, smiling politely as I backed out to meet him.
I powered down my window as I approached, panic welling in my chest for whatever had brought him here.
“Ms. Mercer?”
“Yes. Can I help you?”
He scanned the area, careful eyes searching.
For what? I probably didn’t want to know.
His shadow fell over me, adding an eerie chill, and I worried again for Knox and the missing woman.
“There’s been a development in the case you’re involved in.
I was asked to escort you to the sheriff’s department immediately. ”
“What kind of development?”
His pale eyes narrowed in a grimace, as if he’d rather not say. “I’m just here to escort you.”
I looked at my rearview mirror again, gauging my ability to maneuver around his cruiser. Unlikely. My unease sharpened.
I studied his face through the open window. Something about the shape of his jaw. The set of his shoulders. He felt familiar, though I was certain I’d never seen him.
He wore a jacket similar to Nash’s with no visible badge. “Do you need a minute to collect your things?”
“What did you say your name was?”
Something flickered in his expression. “Deputy Lennox.”
The name registered and I felt my shoulders ease.
This was the deputy who was supposed to work with Knox today. Clearly, he’d been reassigned. But why?
“Ma’am?” He raised his brows. “We should get going.”
My phone rang, and Knox’s name appeared on screen. “Of course. I just need to take this.” I accepted the call. “Hang on one sec,” I told Knox, then smiled at Deputy Lennox. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather drive myself.”
He nodded, gaze jerking to the call on my dashboard screen and back. “Yes, ma’am. I’m happy to follow. Do you know the way?”
“I do, thank you.”
The deputy tipped his hat and moved toward his car.
“Who was that?” Knox asked, his voice tight and strangely loud. The steady growl of an engine raged in the background.
“Deputy Lennox came to —”
“Shit,” Knox barked, interrupting. “Sloane, that is not Lennox. Someone found him unconscious outside his home thirty minutes ago. He was taken to the hospital by ambulance.”
My heart rate spiked, gaze darting to the rearview mirror. The cruiser behind me sat empty and unmoved.
“Sloane, Sam didn’t identify Walter in the lineup. His work with a sketch artist identified the killer as Walter Lehman Junior. Walter’s son.”
Recognition slammed into me. The imposter’s face had seemed familiar, because I knew his father.
“Shit!” I set my hand on the shifter and hesitated. “He’s parked behind me.” Should I try to get inside? Close the garage door? Try to get around the cruiser?
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.” I twisted and craned my body to see behind me, adrenaline racing, and fear clawing at my chest. I changed my mind. “I’m going to hit the cruiser.” Getting out of the car, trying to make it inside, was too big of a risk. And he’d already proven he could reach me there.
The sudden explosion of my rear windshield pulled a scream from my core.
“Sloane!” Knox bellowed through the line.
Fragments of pebbled glass rained over the seat behind me.
Seconds later, the window at my side burst as well, shattering into an opaque field before a gloved hand pushed through the veil.
“No!” I screamed and shoved at the hand as it ran along the door panel, seeking the handle. “Help!”
“Sloane!” Knox yelled.
The assailant’s hand turned and wrapped around my throat, effectively stopping my screams. He pressed me against the seat with force, closing my windpipe and forcing spots into my vision.
I clawed at his fingers, panicked and losing air. Flashbacks of the night on the lawn returned with terrorizing clarity. Knox had saved me then, but he wasn’t here now.
I remembered his touch, his kiss, his voice, as black dots invaded my vision. As my chest and windpipe burned with need of oxygen.
“Fight, Sloane!” The heated demand from my car speaker cut through the ringing in my ears.
I pushed a hand into my purse and fumbled for the pepper spray while a second gloved hand knocked the rest of the glass from my window.
Then the door wrenched open.
Walter’s son released my neck and caught my wrists, one in each hand. He hauled me from the vehicle in one brutal jerk.
My hip and palms hit the cement garage floor, along with a thousand pieces of glass. I cried out as pain ricocheted through me. My throat burned with each desperate, ragged gasp, and I kicked wildly when the hands hauled me onto my feet.
His arm locked around my waist, lifting, crushing the air from my lungs.
I found the button on my pepper spray and aimed it over my shoulder, then pressed the trigger.
Walter screamed. He stumbled back, clawing at his face.
Chemicals filled the air around us. I coughed and cried as I ran.
Through the door. Out of the garage. Into the house.
I slammed the door behind me then turned the deadbolt.
He threw himself against the door. The frame rattled but didn’t give.
I headed for the kitchen. I needed a weapon. I couldn’t keep running. The pain in my wrist and hip were agonizing. Blood poured from the cuts on my hands. My eyes and nose burned from the pepper spray released beside my head.
I just had to stay alive until Knox or the sheriff got here.
Knox was on the call. He knew I was in trouble. He would be here soon.
The door behind me burst open, and Walter Jr stormed inside. Face red and eyes swollen, a snarl twisting his features into a mask of rage. “You. Little. Bitch.”
I grabbed a knife from the wooden block on the kitchen counter and held it between us. “Stop right there.” I sniffled and croaked. “They know you’re here. They’re coming.”
He stalked closer, assessing the scene, determining his next move.
“They know what you’ve done. How many women you’ve killed. You’re going to pay for all of that now.”
He overturned a stand with a vase, and I jumped when it crashed. “Well, then I might as well get in one more!” His voice climbed with each word, growing into a feral scream.
“Your Dad was arrested for your crimes,” I said. “You let him take the fall.”
Walter stopped between me and the front door, expression blank. I supposed psychopaths didn’t care about their fathers. The look in his eyes at the moment suggested he only cared about one thing.
I turned and ran.
Something struck me from behind, and I went down hard. Elbow cracking against tile, breath exploding from my lungs.
Knife bouncing from my grip.
Then his hands wrapped around my ankles, and he dragged me backward. I clawed uselessly at the slick marble floor, leaving a streak of blood from the cuts in my hands.
I rolled onto my back the moment he released my ankles. Pieces of the broken vase he’d hit me with lay scattered across the floor.
I brought my legs up for protection, then I drove my heel into Walter’s face. I felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage as blood exploded from his nose.
Flipping onto my hands and knees in the next second, I almost made it onto my feet, before Walter’s weight hit me from behind.
We crashed onto the floor together, and I scrambled onto my back, freeing my arms to fight. Face to face with a serial killer, his massive hands closed around my throat again and squeezed.
I clawed at his face then recalled my self-defense training. Don’t fight fair. Be cruel. Then run. I jammed my thumbs into Walter’s eyes.
He jerked back with a howl of pain.
I crawled away from him, dizzy and weak, unable to get my feet beneath me again and frantically searching for the dropped knife.
Walter stretched upward. His angry face swam above me.
The weapon I sought was already in his hand.
One of his eyes had nearly swollen shut from my attack.
Blood streamed from his broken nose, and the skin on his face was welted and red from the pepper spray.
He looked every bit like the monster inside him.
I scooted on my back across the floor, sobbing as I tried to put space between us.
The sound of a roaring engine penetrated the fog of my mind. Tires on shells. Skidding to a stop.
Walter’s face contorted in fury and he lunged for me, oblivious to everything except his need to kill.
The knife blade glinting as it plunged.
My eyes closed as I pushed away once more, certain this breath would be my last.
But the blade never reached me.