Chapter 20
Harper didn’t sleep. She lay in bed beside Silas, listening to his breathing gradually even out as exhaustion claimed him, while her own mind churned through everything they knew about Dale Sutton.
He’d cleared out his apartment and storage unit with military precision. He had twelve hours head start. His dark sedan was last seen heading east toward the mountains. No electronic trail, no credit card usage, no cell phone pings.
He’d gone ghost.
But ghosts left traces if you knew where to look.
At four a.m., Harper gave up on sleep. She slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Silas, and moved to the kitchen table with her laptop. She pulled up maps of the areas east of Blackridge—mountainous terrain, national forest, logging roads that wound through wilderness for miles.
Lots of places to hide. Abandoned mining towns, old logging camps, summer cabins that sat empty nine months out of the year. Sutton could disappear into that wilderness and stay hidden for weeks if he wanted.
But he wouldn’t. Harper was certain of that. He hadn’t spent five years building toward this moment just to run away and start over somewhere else. He had unfinished business.
And that business was her.
She pulled up the folder from Sutton’s apartment—the one filled with newspaper clippings and photos of her.
Studied his notes in the margins, trying to understand his thought process.
He’d been meticulous, documenting her cases, her movements, her patterns.
Learning everything about her the way a predator learns its prey.
The photo taken at the cabin made her stomach turn. How long had he been watching? How many times had he stood outside in the darkness, looking through the windows, planning?
“Can’t sleep either?”
Harper jumped. She looked up to find Silas in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep, concern etched on his face.
“Just thinking,” she said.
Silas gave a small, understanding nod and moved to the coffeemaker, started a pot brewing. “About Sutton?”
“About where he’d go. What he’s planning,” she clarified. Harper turned her laptop so Silas could see the maps. “All this wilderness east of the city. Hundreds of square miles of forest and mountains. We could search for months and never find him.”
“Unless we make him come to us,” Silas said quietly as he turned to lean against the counter, watching her, his arms folded over his chest.
“The bait plan.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“I know. But it might be our only option.” Harper stood and moved to the window. The sky was beginning to lighten, dawn just a hint on the horizon. “Sutton’s fixated on me. Everything he’s done has been building toward some confrontation with me. If I make myself available—”
“Then you become a target.”
“I’m already a target. At least this way, we control the circumstances.” Harper turned to face him. “We set it up perfectly. Surveillance, backup teams positioned close enough to respond immediately. I wear a wire, we monitor everything. The second Sutton makes contact, we move in.”
Silas poured two cups of coffee and crossed the room, handing her one. “And if he doesn’t take the bait? If he sees through it like he saw through everything else?”
“Then we’re no worse off than we are now.
” Harper sipped the hot coffee, avoiding those penetrating blue eyes.
“But I don’t think he’ll be able to resist. His ego won’t let him.
He thinks he’s smarter than us, that he can stay ahead.
The opportunity to prove that by taking me—his ultimate trophy—will be too tempting. ”
“You’re talking about yourself like you’re an object. Like you’re already his victim.”
“I’m talking tactically. Strategically.” Harper set down her cup and finally met his concerned gaze. “This is what I do, Silas. I get inside killers’ heads, understand how they think, use that knowledge to catch them. Sometimes that means putting myself at risk.”
“Not like this. Not as bait for a serial killer who’s been obsessed with you for five years.”
They stared at each other, the tension thick between them.
“I’m doing this,” Harper said quietly. “With or without your support. But I’d rather have you with me.”
Silas was quiet for a long moment. Then he exhaled slowly. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No. But I can promise I’ll be as careful as possible. That I’ll follow protocol, listen to the team, not take unnecessary risks.” Harper moved closer to him. “I need to do this. Not just to catch Sutton, but because I’m the only one who can draw him out. Please understand that.”
Silas sighed then pulled her into his arms, held her tight. “I understand. I hate it, but I understand.”
They stood like that for a few minutes, drawing strength from each other. Then Silas pulled back slightly.
“If we’re doing this, we do it right. Full tactical support, every contingency planned for. And I’m on the backup team. Non-negotiable.”
They were finally getting somewhere. The relief she felt was instant. “Agreed.”
At six a.m., they were at the station. The conference room was already filling with officers and detectives, all looking grim and determined. Captain Holloway stood at the front, a dark sentinel they all looked to for guidance and support, a large map of the region spread across the table.
“Sutton’s been gone for eighteen hours,” Holloway began without preamble, one thick finger pinning the map to the table.
“Last confirmed sighting was his sedan heading east on Highway 26. We’ve established roadblocks, alerted all neighboring jurisdictions, and issued a BOLO to every law enforcement agency in the Pacific Northwest.”
He stabbed his finger onto the map with two dull thuds. “This is our search grid. The area east of Blackridge covers approximately five hundred square miles of mixed terrain—national forest, logging roads, abandoned structures. We’re dividing it into sectors and conducting systematic searches.”
Morris pulled up aerial imagery on the monitors. “We’ve identified forty-three structures in the search area. Old mining operations, logging camps, summer cabins, hunting lodges. Most are accessible only by logging roads or hiking trails.”
“We search every single one,” Holloway said. “Teams of four, full tactical gear. Sutton is armed, dangerous, and he knows we’re looking for him. Treat every structure as a potential hostile situation.”
“What about air support?” Holt asked.
“Oregon State Police is providing helicopter support starting at oh-eight-hundred. They’ll do aerial reconnaissance of the entire search area, looking for vehicle movement or any signs of occupation.”
Harper studied the map, her profiler’s instincts kicking in. “Sutton would want somewhere isolated but with good sight lines. Defensible. Somewhere he could see people coming but they couldn’t see him.”
“That describes half these locations,” Morris said.
“Look for structures with good access routes but also multiple escape routes,” Harper continued. “He’s a planner. He wouldn’t hole up somewhere he could get trapped. And he’d want access to supplies—water, food. Somewhere he could sustain himself for days or weeks if needed.”
Sanchez highlighted several locations on the map. “That narrows it to about fifteen structures. Old logging camps with multiple access roads, a few abandoned ranger stations near water sources, and three hunting lodges with generator power.”
“We start with those fifteen,” Holloway decided. “Three teams, five locations each. Check in every thirty minutes. No one goes in alone, and everyone wears body cams.”
As teams geared up and assignments were distributed, Harper pulled Holloway aside.
“I want to propose an alternative approach,” she said. “In addition to the search teams.”
Holloway’s dark expression suggested he already knew what she was going to say. “The bait plan.”
“Sutton won’t stay hidden forever. He’s building toward something, and I’m at the center of it. If we give him an opportunity—”
“You mean if we dangle you in front of him like a carrot.”
“In a controlled environment with full tactical support.” Harper pulled up a proposal she’d drafted. “I go to a public location. Somewhere he’d expect me to be. The cabin, maybe, or even back at the station. We set up surveillance, position teams close-by. When he makes contact, we take him.”
“And if he doesn’t make contact? If he just watches from a distance?”
“Then we wait him out,” she said with a shrug. “But I don’t think his ego will let him just watch. He’s been planning this confrontation for five years. He’ll want to finish it.”
Holloway studied her proposal, his jaw tight. “This is risky.”
“Searching five hundred square miles of wilderness while Sutton has multiple escape routes is also risky. This gives us better odds.”
“What does Kane think about this?”
“He hates it. But he agrees it’s our best option.”
Holloway was quiet for a long moment, weighing their options. Finally, he nodded. “We run the search teams as planned. But we also prep the bait operation as a contingency. If the searches come up empty after forty-eight hours, we implement your plan.”
Harper breathed deep. “Thank you, Captain.”
He patted the now roll-up paper in his open hand, looking over her head as he moved around her. “Don’t thank me yet. If this goes sideways, we’re all going to regret it.”
The search teams deployed at seven-thirty a.m., heading into the mountains in full tactical gear. Harper and Silas stayed at the station, monitoring communication and coordinating between teams.
The first location—an abandoned logging camp—was clear. So was the second, an old ranger station near a creek. Team Three reported finding recent tire tracks at a hunting lodge, but the structure itself was empty and showed no signs of recent occupation.
“He’s staying mobile,” Harper said, studying the map. “Not establishing a base. That makes him harder to find.”
“Or he’s not in the search area at all,” Morris suggested. “Could have ditched the sedan and headed in a completely different direction.”