Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Derek Sullivan.
No. Derek Brands.
The name echoed in Claire’s head like a curse. The helpful IT guy who’d fixed her computer a dozen times. Who’d come to her desk with a smile and patient explanations when her phone acted up. Who’d had physical access to her devices, been able to watch her at work, for five years.
He was Collin Brands’ cousin. Had known the man who killed Lily. Had maybe even been there that night.
And she’d trusted him. The thought made her shudder. He’d been playing a long game all these years. Watching. Waiting. A spider who’d toyed with her, making sure she was secure in his web before he ate her.
Claire sat in the ops room, staring at Derek’s FBI contractor photo on the main screen. The kind face that had made her feel safe asking stupid tech questions.
The face of a monster.
“Agent Dawson?” A voice pulled her back. One of the local officers was on speakerphone. “We need you to come down to the station as soon as possible. We have questions about Derek Sullivan’s possible connection to our murder victim.”
Claire blinked, forced herself to focus. “Of course. When?”
“Now would be best. We’ve put out an APB for him, based on what Shadow Point Security and the FBI have forwarded to us, but since you’ve flagged him as the Countdown Killer from D.C. and you’re at the heart of the case, we need a statement directly from you.”
“She’ll do a phone interview for now,” Garrett cut in. His voice was firm. “In-person tomorrow when the FBI team arrives from Missoula.”
Silence on the other end. “And who are you?”
Vivi spoke up. “He commands my team, Officer Kent, and is currently Agent Dawson’s bodyguard. I agree with his assessment—the best approach is for all three groups to meet tomorrow and share our collective intel at that time so we’re all on the same page.”
Kent wasn’t pleased. “Dr. Montgomer, we have a murder victim and a suspect who’s vanished. We need—”
“And you’ll get my full cooperation,” Claire interrupted. “But I’ve been targeted by this predator for six months. I’m exhausted, and I need rest before I sit in an interview room for hours.”
Wolf’s eyes met hers across the table. “A phone interview covers the immediate questions,” he added. “You’ll get a full debrief tomorrow when everyone’s present, and we can coordinate properly.”
More silence. A radio squawk sounded in the background. Ringing phones joined in. Several people were talking and calling out to each other. The small town police department had probably never had a murder. They were overwhelmed.
Kent gave a tight sigh. “Fine. But I want that interview within the hour. Detective Mills will call back at eight.”
“I’ll be ready,” Claire said and disconnected.
She’d wanted to argue. Wanted to say she could handle an interview right now, that she didn’t need rest, that she was fine.
But she wasn’t. Her hands were shaking. Her chest felt tight again.
Every time she blinked, she saw Derek’s face. Smiling. Helpful. Lying.
She met Wolf’s eyes. Focus on the anger, his stare reminded her.
“Lynx, set up a secure line for the interview,” the commander said. “Doc, I want you present to monitor Claire’s responses and cut it short if the locals push too hard.”
“Copy that,” Lynx said.
“I’ll be fine,” Claire insisted. If only she believed it.
Vivi moved to sit beside her. “You’ve been through multiple traumas in the past few days. A panic attack. A murder. Now finding out someone you trusted is connected to your best friend’s killer.” Her voice was gentle. “It’s okay to not be fine.”
“I need to be functional.”
“You are, but you’re also human.” Vivi squeezed her shoulder. “Let us help you.”
Claire’s throat tightened. She nodded, not trusting her voice.
Wolf insisted she eat and took her to the cafeteria. There, he fixed sandwiches, grabbed chips, and poured them both energy drinks. He asked her about her experiences at the Bureau—not about Derek. The questions were thoughtful. His green eyes sparked when he teased her about being a badass.
She found herself relaxing for the first time in days. Weeks. Laughing and joking. Before she knew it, she’d finished off her entire meal.
He escorted her to her room and stood guard while she showered. She didn’t spend too long in the hot water, but even the brief respite eased her tight shoulders. Her mind kept circling back to their earlier kiss. The fact that he was on the other side of the door made her body heat.
He was a good man, and she’d let herself get carried away with her emotions. But it had been too long since she’d felt safe. Desired. Too long since she’d allowed herself to feel more than passing friendship or affection for anyone.
She didn’t need to be a profiler to realize it was because she’d been too scared of losing someone she cared about.
Back in the ops center, the phone interview took forty-five minutes. The local detective was professional but relentless. How long had she known Derek Sullivan? How often did he have access to her devices? Did she ever suspect anything? Had he ever made her uncomfortable?
No. That was the answer that hurt most. No, she’d never suspected. He’d been invisible. Forgettable. Exactly what a predator wanted to be.
“Thank you, Agent Dawson,” Detective Mills finally said. “The FBI team from Missoula will be here by ten tomorrow. We’ll convene here at the station then for a full briefing.”
“Understood.”
The line went dead.
Claire slumped in her chair, exhausted. The adrenaline that had kept her going all day was gone, leaving her hollowed out and shaking.
“You did well,” Vivi said quietly.
“I know what they’re thinking.” Claire’s voice was flat. “I profile serial killers. Read people. See patterns. And I worked with him for five years and never once thought—”
“He was hunting you specifically,” Garrett said. He stood near the tactical map, arms crossed. “He built a cover over the years. Got a job at the FBI. Positioned himself to have access to you without raising red flags. That’s not something you could have anticipated or predicted.”
“I should have.”
“No.” Garrett’s voice was sharp. “You couldn’t have known. Stop blaming yourself for what he did.”
The words echoed what he’d said in his room hours ago when he’d pushed her to get angry instead of guilty.
“He’s right,” Vivi said with a patient smile. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Give yourself some grace.”
Garrett sat across from her and kicked back, his gaze intense. “You’re letting him get in your head again, Paperclip. That won’t help anyone.”
Claire glared at him. The man who’d helped her out of a panic attack. Who’d kissed her like she was oxygen. Who still wouldn’t tell her his real name.
Something about him felt...familiar. Something in his eyes. The way he looked at her sometimes, like he was seeing more than just Agent Dawson.
“Get some rest,” Garrett said. “Both of you. Bobcat will be at your door for a few hours before I relieve him, Claire. Grizzly is on perimeter patrol. Hawk’s on overwatch. Lynx is monitoring systems. We’re secure.”
Vivi stood, grabbing her tablet and fighting a yawn. “And I’ve called in two other men with solid backgrounds to add an extra layer of eyes to our security setup overnight. Everyone has a photo of Derek in hand and knows how clever and skilled he is. We won’t underestimate him.”
“What about you?” Claire asked Wolf.
He checked his watch, not looking the least bit tired. “I’ll be in the gym. I need to burn off some energy.”
Of course he did. While she was falling apart, he was perfectly calm and confident.
It shouldn’t annoy her. But it did.
“Come on,” Vivi said, heading for the exit. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
Claire didn’t argue. She was too tired to argue. Too tired to think. Too tired to do anything but follow Vivi down the corridor to her room.
“Try to sleep,” Vivi said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
But sleep was impossible.
Claire lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. Derek had been in her apartment. Had touched her phone. Had installed spyware and watched her for months. Had known where she lived, where she worked, who she talked to.
Had known about Lily. Had maybe been there the night Lily died. The thought made her sick.
She sat up, checked the time. She’d been lying here for nearly two hours, and sleep felt impossible.
Grabbing a sweatshirt, she pulled it on over her tank top. Maybe walking would help. Maybe moving would quiet her brain.
Bobcat jumped to attention when she emerged. “Everything okay?”
Security lights cast long shadows. She could hear the hum of electronics from the ops room, the distant sound of someone typing—probably Lynx, who seemed never to sleep.
“Can I use the gym?”
His brows drew down. “Let me clear it with the Commander.” He spoke into his radio quietly, then nodded when Wolf’s voice responded. “You're good to go."
Claire followed him, hoping against hope that Wolf was still there. She needed to get away. Away from the lifeless, generic room. Away from her spinning thoughts.
They arrived at the gym. The door was cracked open, light spilling into the hallway. And inside—
Wolf.
He was hitting a heavy bag with brutal efficiency. No gloves—just bare fists and controlled fury. His shirt was discarded on the floor, his upper body slick with sweat. Every punch landed with precision, the bag swinging on its chain.
Claire should leave, should go back to her room. She should not stand here watching him work out his demons.
But she couldn’t move. Because she recognized what she was seeing. It wasn’t just exercise. It wasn’t just blowing off steam.
It was rage. Pure, controlled, barely contained rage.
He hit the bag again and again. Hard enough that his knuckles were bleeding.
“You’re going to break your hands,” Claire said, walking in.
Wolf froze mid-punch. Turned. His eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, she saw something raw in his expression. Something that looked like pain.