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  “Why does Lily have to actually be there for the takedown?” he asked, wanting to know just how deep his agent had gotten.

  Anspaugh shrugged. “Well, for one thing, with the way I suspect she feels about this Lovesprettyboys dude, I think she’ll want to be.”

  “So you truly believe this suspect will visit the house tonight. Why? If he’s passing himself off as another child, why would he expect this young girl to allow him to enter?”

  “We already know that psycho’s not just into assaulting little kids; he wants to see them hurt, killed.”

  That was exactly what the man had wanted when he’d tried to pay a small fortune to have the Reaper do it for him.

  “So we’re not thinking he’s a regular perv, trying to seduce a young girl into meeting with somebody she knows is a man. This creep could just be looking to act quickly on opportunity—a house with two young kids alone. One of them is his favorite victim type, an eight-year-old male, the other a weak little girl who could be easily subdued while he does what he wants to with the boy.”

  Wyatt nodded in acknowledgment. It was possible. He didn’t know that the unsub was desperate enough to go after the first unsupervised boy he could find. Then again, he had seemed pretty desperate when he’d offered to transfer a fortune to a stranger just so he could get to watch a video of an attack.

  A knock sounded on his partially closed office door, and Lily Fletcher herself stuck her head in. “Sir, can I have a minute?” She obviously couldn’t see who was sitting across from him.

  Wyatt waved an expansive hand, beckoning her in. “By all means; what perfect timing.”

  She stepped inside, then stumbled over her own feet when she saw Anspaugh. Her face drained of color and her mouth fell open on an audible, shocked inhalation.

  “Special Agent Anspaugh and I were just discussing tonight’s operation,” Wyatt murmured, not revealing by expression or tone what he thought of the whole situation. “Not to mention your assistance in the investigation.”

  Lily stared at him in silence, obviously knowing he didn’t want to get into the discussion they needed to have in front of an outsider.

  “Hey, Lil, figured I’d try to work things out boss-to-boss, so you don’t have any more conflicts like last night,” the other agent said.

  Seeing the way her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly and her cheeks flushed, he knew what Lily thought of several things, including the nickname, the interference, the idea of Anspaugh as her boss, and the other agent himself. Lily Fletcher was nothing if not easy to read, her emotions always visible just beneath the pretty surface.

  “Last night I didn’t abandon my post, sir. Mrs. Dalton was alone. . . .” As usual, when flustered, as she often seemed to be around him for some reason, Lily stammered and stumbled over her words. “I mean, she wasn’t alone, not for a minute. Alec Lambert was there the entire time; I’m sure he’ll verify that.”

  Wyatt said nothing, merely tenting his fingers on his desk.

  “Look, Blackstone, she wasn’t irresponsible. She did tell me she couldn’t do it if she didn’t get coverage,” Anspaugh said, though his tone said he begrudged having to explain—to Wyatt, of all people.

  Wyatt ignored the man. “Is Agent Stokes available to be on duty all night?” he asked, wanting to make sure the logistics were covered before he made any decisions.

  Lily nodded. “I just talked to her and her daughter’s fine, so she’s good to go.” Her hands fisting and unfisting by her sides, she quickly continued. “Alec and Mrs. Dalton are on their way back from the prison. He’s staying with her at the hotel until this evening; then Jackie will come at around ten to relieve him and spend the rest of the night.”

  “So we’re good?” Anspaugh asked. Fortunately, the man was tunnel-visioned and didn’t ask any questions about the case they were discussing. A normal agent would at least express a passing interest, given the need for witness protection and prison visits. Anspaugh, however, saw only his own investigations, his own ambitions.

  Which made Wyatt even more uncomfortable about tonight’s operation.

  “There are conditions to Agent Fletcher’s involvement.”

  “What conditions?” The other man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “Lily is not a field agent. She has no experience, and I will not have her put in jeopardy during this mission.”

  “Sir, I’m fine, really—”

  He cut her off with an abrupt wave of his hand. “She remains off-site, an observer only, nowhere near the takedown location.”

  Anspaugh rolled his eyes. “Oh, for Chrissakes, we’re talking about a pervert here, not Jack the Ripper.”

  Wyatt merely lifted a brow. “Is that a no?”

  The other man hesitated.

  “Very well, then. I’m afraid I will not grant Agent Fletcher permission to assist.”

  “Wait a minute, Blackstone,” the other man said, his neck growing distinctly red above his tight collar. “It’s not a problem. She can hang back in the surveillance van; she won’t be alone for one minute.”

  Lily opened her mouth again, but Wyatt met her eye, silently telling her it was this way or no way. He already half regretted letting it go this far.

  She snapped it closed again.

  “Very well. Agent Fletcher, you are free to assist Agent Anspaugh tonight.”

  Anspaugh beamed, apparently not even noticing Lily’s tension, the way her hands twisted in front of her and she kept her head down. He was so pleased with himself, he got up and said, “See? All good. Toldja I’d take care of ya. I’ve got a few guys wiring up the empty house down in Williamsburg right now, but we need to get there soon. Be ready to go in about thirty minutes,” before swaggering out of the room.

  He hadn’t offered a handshake on his departure any more than he had on his arrival. Which only meant Wyatt wouldn’t have to reach for the hand sanitizer. His office felt grimy enough just from the agent’s used oxygen.

  “Shut the door.”

  Lily did so, keeping her back toward him until the latch clicked. Then for a few seconds longer. Her whole body straightened visibly before she turned around. “I was on my way in here to tell you.”

  He made no effort to hide his skepticism. “Of course you were.”

  “I mean it. This all got out of hand so quickly; I was just doing some computer stuff for them, a little brain-storming.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Honestly, at first, I thought Anspaugh was just trying to hit on me and I was about to tell him to go away.”

  “Which was when he dangled an actual suspect in your face.”

  Appearing stricken, Lily asked, “Do you think he’s lying?” She immediately shook her head and answered for him. “No. I don’t think he is. The area fits geographically. Plus, I read the transcripts. Lovesprettyboys used the word ‘delightful’ all the time in Satan’s Playground. This supposedly young boy is using it, when no real kid ever would.”

  “Even if he’s not lying, you have been.”

  Lily sank into the chair. “I’m so sorry.”

  At least she hadn’t tried to deny it, or downplay it as only a lie by omission. That garbage didn’t fly here, not with the stakes in their job.

  “I’m serious, though, about planning to tell you. You can ask Alec. I promised him last night that I would let you know today.”

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I don’t need to go back and forth between my people confirming their stories. That’s not the kind of office I run. Either trust is there, or it’s not.”

  Her eyes closed briefly, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard.

  Not letting up on her, he pressed on. “Right now, it’s not. I’m questioning your loyalties, wondering if I can trust you.”

  “You can. . . .”

  “But you obviously don’t have much trust in me if you kept this secret.”

  “That’s not true,” she snapped, her chin jerking up as she reacted angrily for the first time since she’d walke
d into the room. “I trust you. I trust every member of this team.”

  “Then why? Why did I have to find out what one of my own team members was up to by hearing it from a fool like Anspaugh?”

  The steam left her as quickly as it had come on. “It’s this guy, Lovesprettyboys. That’s all; it’s this one perp. I want to stop him, Wyatt.”

  She had managed to call him by his first name without prompting. Progress.

  “But it’s not just wanting him stopped, is it?” he asked.

  “No. It’s about me stopping him.”

  Exactly as he’d expected. “Because you’ve let this become personal.”

  She jerked to her feet, thrusting a frustrated hand into her blond hair, sending it spilling from its loose bun. “It’s not personal. I’m not confusing this guy with the demon from my own past. I just . . .”

  Wyatt dropped his arms onto his desk and straightened in his chair. When Lily didn’t explain, he did it for her. “You just want to stop feeling helpless. To do something instead of having it done to you.”

  Lily turned to glance at him, her lips trembling as she whispered, “Yeah.”

  Glancing down, Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease away the tension and the stiffness. Also trying to put himself in the young agent’s shoes.

  No, he didn’t like that she’d hidden this from him. But he couldn’t positively say he wouldn’t have acted the same way. Even someone with the power to segregate his emotions from nearly every aspect of his life probably couldn’t stand feeling so powerless, so victimized, without any chance at changing it.

  For someone like Lily, who he sometimes thought was too soft to be in the bureau at all, it was utterly impossible.

  “All right,” he finally said with a heavy sigh. “Go do what you have to tonight.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Don’t thank me. Just do some thinking, would you? About what you really want, where you really see yourself. Because if you can’t move past this and focus on the here and now rather than what happened to your family, then I can’t have you here working these kinds of violent crimes.”

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Think about it. And decide, soon, if you want to put in for a transfer. Once you are absolutely certain, I’ll support you either way.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his aching neck again. “Now go. Before I change my mind.”

  She said nothing. Within a few seconds, the clicking of the door signaled she had gone, hopefully not slinking out in humiliation, but rather ready to do what he’d asked her to do: Think about her life and decide whether to start living it again.

  Fortunately for Alec, after they left the prison, Sam had asked him to stop at a mall so she could pick up a few things, including the jeans and thick sweater she now had on. They were much better for his sanity, as he again sat with her in a hotel room, than if she’d still been dressed as she had been earlier.

  He’d also insisted on buying her a birthday ice-cream cone, though she seemed anything but interested in celebrating. One hell of a way to spend a birthday.

  “What do they call this, déjà vu all over again?” she asked with a soft sigh.

  Considering he was again parked by the window, and she again across the room, he could only echo the sound.

  “So are you ever going to finish telling me what Jimmy had to say this afternoon?”

  He had begun filling her in about his odd conversation with the convict right after they’d left the prison a couple of hours ago. Then Lily had called to arrange tonight’s safe-house schedule, and he’d been able to think about nothing else but playing another round of try-to-avoid-sleeping-with-the-witness.

  “He’s a strange guy. Plays the ‘I’m just a poor, dumb convict’ role pretty convincingly, but there’s real cunning there.”

  “No kidding. But was he of any help?”

  “Yes, actually, I think he was.”

  “In what way?”

  Leaving his window seat, Alec moved to a chair in the small kitchenette, pulling it close to the dining table. He reached for his laptop case and pulled out a notebook on which he’d jotted his thoughts during today’s interview. “I think I was the most surprised at the way he talked about his victims—at least, once you were out of earshot.”

  Sam left the sofa and took the chair opposite him. “I’m not. When I talked to him the first time, I got the impression that he really looked down on the people he stole from, had no sympathy for them.” She shook her head and added, “Elderly grandmothers notwithstanding.”

  Unable to resist the impulse, Alec reached out and covered one of her hands with his, squeezing lightly. “I hate like hell that you went through that nightmare today. What he said . . . Did it change your opinion about his claims?”

  “Regarding the supposed other inmate? Maybe. It’s hard to see how he could know as much as he did.”

  “Look, Sam, you said yourself this guy was good enough to bilk hundreds of people through the Internet. You really think he couldn’t find out everything he wanted to know about you and your family history? He certainly knew today was your birthday.”

  “I don’t know how he found that out. His sentence forbids Internet access.”

  “Sentences usually also forbid drugs, pornography, and weapons in prison. You honestly think there aren’t any? I have no doubt Flynt has at the very least found himself in the vicinity of someone who has online access and can find out anything he wants to know.”

  She conceded his point with a nod.

  “He really knocked you for a loop, didn’t he?” he murmured.

  “I guess.”

  “You feeling better now?”

  “I’m fine. I was fine almost right away, once I got out of that hot room. But I didn’t want to interfere, so I didn’t even think about coming back.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t think I’d have kept Jimmy’s attention if you were there.”

  “It wasn’t a hardship. Despite being a prick about women’s skirts, the warden was pretty nice to let me wait in the privacy of his assistant’s office, rather than sending me to the car. I guess he felt bad for making me keep the coat on.”

  He tried to lighten the mood with a teasing smile. “And no dress code?”

  “No dress code. Now, back to Jimmy?”

  His smile faded immediately. “I don’t think it was just that he had no sympathy for his victims, although that was certainly true.” Alec thought about it, trying to put his impressions in words. “He seemed almost . . . disgusted with them, I guess, for being stupid enough to fall for his line.”

  “Like they had it coming?”

  “Exactly. Had a very Nietzschean philosophy that some people were predators and some were prey and that’s just the way things are. That it was no more wrong for him to steal from them than it was for a hungry wolf to cull the weakest sheep from the flock to fulfill its needs.”

  “Sociopathic,” she murmured.

  “Probably. He honestly saw himself as doing the world a favor by teaching these fools a lesson, even though he doubted most of them learned from it.”

  “Kind of like your unsub.”

  Alec nodded. “Most definitely. He has referred to his victims as fools, called them stupid.”

  They both thought about it. Alec kept playing Jimmy’s words in his head, knowing there was something he had overlooked. Some natural conclusion he should be able to reach; yet it remained elusive, hiding in the corners of his mind.

  “Lucky him to have found a way to lure gullible people,” Sam mused. “I bet it’s not hard for him to find people he considers stupid online.”

  And just like that, something clicked. He sat very still, closing his eyes, thinking about her words. “Lucky,” he whispered. “Yes, he just sends out a blanket lure and waits for the right type of victim to respond.”

  Sam seemed to realize he was talking more to himself than to her and remained silent.

  �
��But maybe he doesn’t see it as luck. Maybe it isn’t random.”

  “What?”

  Alec rose from his chair and paced the room, trying to verbalize the idea he couldn’t quite nail down. “I mean, maybe he’s not just trying to find miscellaneous victims to satisfy his need to kill. He intentionally sets his lures up to be easily avoided. The scams are simple to check, the backgrounds so obviously faked. Even the crime scenes, which seem like such senseless deaths, usually have a way out.”

  “So the objective . . .”

  “Isn’t just to kill.” He placed his hands on the back of the chair he had just vacated, and gripped it. “The victims aren’t random. The means he uses to pull them in ensures that he’s getting exactly the kind of people he wants to kill, and the farther they venture into his path, the more they confirm their status as sheep to be culled. The ones he considers unworthy, stupid.”

  “Like the world would be better off without them?”

  “Yes!” He dropped back onto the chair, mumbling, “Darwin. He wasn’t just referring to the survival of the fittest. He is trying to help evolution along by thinning out the gene pool.”

  Sam shook her head in disgust. “Unbelievable.”

  “But true,” he said, nearly certain of it. He just needed a little more information to firm up his theories. “His first several victims, the ones he killed without the e-mail scams . . . There must have been something that attracted him to them.”

  The victims hadn’t had any surface connections. They’d been from widely different backgrounds, different ages, sexes, socioeconomic groups. Yet there must have been something to swing Darwin’s big, evil eye in their direction.

  Alec flipped open his laptop and opened his documents on the case. The details of each murder were here, and he refamiliarized himself with them, again acknowledging that there were no surface similarities.

  Acting on a hunch, he went a step further and established an Internet connection. “We checked the backgrounds on every one of these people and found absolutely nothing that linked them. Now, I wonder if Darwin himself does,” he muttered.

  Sam eyed him curiously, but he didn’t explain. Instead, he typed the name of one of the victims and the word Darwin into a search engine, and pressed enter.