Chapter 20 #2
“No.” Harper was certain. “He’s close. He wants to finish what he started, and he can’t do that if he runs too far.”
At noon, Team Two found something. An abandoned mining operation fifteen miles east of the city, partially collapsed but with several structures still standing. Fresh footprints in the dirt. Evidence of a recent fire in one of the buildings.
“Someone’s been here,” the team leader radioed. “Within the last day or two.”
“Move in carefully,” Holloway ordered. “Full tactical protocols.”
Harper and Silas listened to the radio chatter as the team cleared the structures one by one. The main building was empty. The old bunkhouse showed signs of recent use—disturbed dust, a few food wrappers, cigarette butts.
“Cigarette butts are fresh,” the team leader reported. “Less than twenty-four hours old based on decomposition.”
“Bag them for DNA analysis,” Holloway said. “See if they match Sutton.”
But when the team finished their search, Sutton wasn’t there. Just evidence that someone had used the location recently and moved on.
“He’s playing cat and mouse,” Silas said. “Staying one step ahead.”
Harper studied the pattern of locations they’d searched. The abandoned logging camp was ten miles north. The ranger station was eight miles south. The mining operation was fifteen miles east. If you plotted them on a map...
“He’s moving in a circle,” Harper realized. “Look at the pattern. He’s not running away from Blackridge. He’s orbiting it. Staying close but never in one place long enough to be caught.”
“Why orbit?” Morris asked. “Why not just leave the area entirely?”
“Because he’s not done yet.” Harper pulled up the map of Blackridge, adding the locations where they’d found evidence of recent activity. “He’s waiting for something. Planning his final move.”
“Or waiting for you,” Silas said quietly.
At three p.m., the helicopter reported a sighting. A dark sedan, partially hidden under tree cover about twenty miles northeast of the city. The pilot couldn’t get close enough for a definitive ID, but the location and vehicle matched.
“Send Team One,” Holloway ordered. “Approach with extreme caution.”
It took the team forty minutes to reach the location from logging roads. When they arrived, they found the sedan—Sutton’s car, confirmed by the license plate. But it was empty, abandoned. The keys were still in the ignition, the gas tank nearly full.
“He ditched it,” the team leader reported. “Left it here and continued on foot.”
On foot. In wilderness terrain. That changed everything.
“Get search and rescue teams up there,” Holloway ordered. “K-9 units if available. If he’s on foot, we can track him.”
But Harper felt unease settling in her chest. Sutton was military trained. He knew how to move through wilderness without leaving traces. And he’d chosen to abandon his vehicle, which meant he had a specific destination in mind. Somewhere he couldn’t drive to.
She pulled up topographical maps of the area around where the sedan was found. Dense forest, steep terrain, a few old trails. And about three miles north of the vehicle location, an old structure marked on the map.
Riverside Warehouse. Abandoned industrial building from the logging era, sitting on the bank of the Blackridge River.
“There,” Harper said, pointing. “That’s where he’s going.”
“How do you know?” Holloway asked.
“Because it’s perfect. Isolated, defensible, multiple exit routes via the river.
And it’s close enough to the city that he can get back easily when he’s ready to make his move.
” Harper pulled up more details on the warehouse.
“Three stories, concrete construction, probably still structurally sound. He could hole up there for weeks.”
“Team One is only three miles from that location,” Morris said, checking the map. “We could have them there in under an hour.”
“No.” Harper’s instincts were screaming at her. “If we send a team in and he’s there, it could turn into a hostage situation or a standoff. He’s got tactical training, knows the building, has the high ground. We need to be smarter.”
“What do you suggest?” Holloway asked.
Harper took a breath. This was the moment. “Let me go in. Alone, unarmed. Give him what he wants—a confrontation with me. While I keep him occupied, tactical teams move into position. When the moment’s right, they breach and we take him.”
“Absolutely not,” Silas said immediately and fiercely. “This isn’t what we talked about.”
“It’s the best option—”
“It’s suicide,” he nearly shouted. “You’re talking about walking into a building with a serial killer who’s obsessed with you, giving him exactly what he wants, and hoping we can get to you before he kills you.” Silas’s voice was fierce. “No. We find another way.”
Harper threw her arms up in the air. “There is no other way. If we go in tactical, he’ll either run or barricade himself. Either way, we lose him.” She met Holloway’s eyes. “But if he thinks he’s won, if I come to him on his terms, he’ll let his guard down. That’s when we strike.”
“And if he kills you before we can get to you?”
“Then I’ll be wearing body armor under my clothes. And I’ll have a panic button that alerts the teams immediately.” Harper had thought this through. “I’m not going in there to die. I’m going in there to end this.”
Holloway was quiet for a long moment, the weight of the decision visible on his face. Finally, he spoke.
“We prep the operation. Full tactical support, aerial surveillance, multiple breach teams. But we don’t execute unless we’re absolutely certain Sutton is at that warehouse. I won’t send you in blind.”
“Understood.”
“And Kane is right—you wear body armor, carry a panic button, and we have eyes on you every second. The moment things go sideways, we pull you out.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Her heart pounded at the victory and the implications. She wouldn’t lie and say she wasn’t afraid, but this was their best chance to catch Sutton, and she wouldn’t blow it.
As the team began planning the operation, Silas pulled Harper aside. His expression was torn between anger and fear.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he hissed.
There was terror in his eyes, but Harper refused to back down now. Not when they were this close. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t. We could wait him out, track him down through conventional means—”
“Which could take weeks or months. And in that time, how many more women does he kill? How many more lives does he destroy?” Harper took his hands, praying she could make him understand. “This ends tonight, Silas. One way or another.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed as he stared her down. Then finally he said, “I’m terrified I’m going to lose you.”
Something inside Harper softened at the admission. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m coming back. And when I do, we’re going to have that weekend at the cabin. Just us, no case, no killers. Just us.”
Silas pulled her into his arms, held her so tight she could barely breathe. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise.”
“Promise me you’ll hit that panic button the second things feel wrong.”
“I promise.”
“Promise me—” His voice broke slightly. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
Harper pulled back to look at him directly. “I promise. I’m coming back to you, Silas. Nothing Sutton does can change that.”
They stood close together for a moment, foreheads touching, neither wanting to let go. She wanted to kiss him as much as she could feel he wanted to do the same, but they had an audience, and duty called.
The tactical teams assembled at four p.m. Full SWAT gear, night vision equipment, breaching tools. The helicopter would provide aerial surveillance and confirm Sutton’s presence at the warehouse before Harper went in. Medical teams were on standby half a mile away.
Harper changed into street clothes—jeans, a sweater that concealed the body armor underneath. The panic button was disguised as a simple watch on her wrist. A tiny microphone was hidden in her collar, transmitting everything back to the command post.
Silas helped her with the body armor, his hands gentle despite the tension radiating from him.
“This is Kevlar,” he said, checking the fit. “Rated for handgun rounds. It won’t stop a rifle, and it won’t protect your head or extremities.”
“I know.”
“If he has a knife—”
“Silas. I know.” Harper caught his hands, stilled them. “I’ve done this before. I know the risks.”