Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Sure thing,” Pastor John said. “I need to clear my name.” He slid an arm over the woman’s shoulders. “We’ll be back tomorrow.” They left with Lativa chattering excitedly about being part of the process.
Laurel hurried back into the conference room with Monty on her heels.
Rachel came onscreen beside a thirtysomething man with curly black hair and greenish brown eyes. “Oh, no,” Laurel muttered.
“What?” Monty pulled out a chair
“That’s Lucas Carver.”
Monty set his elbows on the rough wooden door. “Who’s Lucas Carver?”
Laurel shifted uncomfortably. “We attended graduate school together and then were at Quantico at the same time. Whenever any professor graded on a curve, if I had the highest A, he would have the next grade.”
“Oh,” Monty said, nodding. “So if he had the highest grade, then you—”
“No,” she said, “I always had the highest grade.” She sat back to look at Lucas. How in the world had Rachel found him?
Rachel smiled prettily, despite the bruise on her face. “So tell me, Mr. Carver,” she said, “you’re an expert on serial killers, correct? You’re a profiler?”
Carver laughed, the tone charming. “We don’t really believe in the term ‘profiler.’ We’re more behavioral analysts, if that helps, and please call me Lucas.”
Rachel twittered, looking like a heroine from a tragic novel with a bruise over her cheekbone and her blond hair up in a ponytail. She held her right arm against her ribs as if experiencing pain. “I’ve detailed for our audience what happened to me last night, how I was kidnapped and put into the dog crate but then managed to escape.”
Carver reached over and patted her hand. “You did escape. You’re a very brave young woman, and you are smart, and you kept your wits. You’re the first one to live after facing this brutal killer. You’re very impressive.”
She smiled, the expression somewhat shy.
“Give me a break,” Monty muttered.
Rachel sobered. “I really think the man who assaulted me was my ex-boyfriend, Captain Huck Rivers,” she said, her voice hushed, her eyes wide.
Carver nodded. “I can’t really say that Captain Rivers kidnapped you, but I can tell you that the person committing these killings is strong, methodical, and very angry at women. From the victims he’s targeted, very angry at blond women.”
Rachel swallowed and then pulled on her blond ponytail. “I would never have thought I’d be a victim.”
“You’re not. You’re a survivor,” Carver said instantly.
Rachel straightened and gingerly touched the bruise on her cheekbone. “You’re right. I am. So do you think there’s significance to his putting me in a dog crate?”
“Of course.” Carver nodded, both eyebrows up. “He thinks women are dogs.”
Laurel smacked her hand against her head. If Rachel was put in a dog crate, it was to keep her contained, for Pete’s sake. No dog hairs were found on any of the victims. “Every crime scene is the same—the use of crampons, an iced-over river, and an isolated area—except for one. I’m missing something.”
On the podcast, Rachel touched Carver’s sleeve, as if seeking a connection. “So hypothetically, what if Huck Rivers is the killer? He has been arrested, you know.”
Carver stared thoughtfully into the camera. “Let’s keep in mind that we need to use the word ‘alleged.’ But if Captain Rivers committed these crimes, it would be interesting that the first victim was his mother, the mother who abandoned him.”
Rachel wiggled in her seat. “Exactly. Isn’t that the type of impetus that would propel him to start killing? When we were together, he was searching for a killer who drowned boys, and he saved one, but another died. He never got over that.”
Carver nodded wisely. “Then it would make sense that drowning would be his choice of killing, allegedly,” he added at the end. “His mother would be the first target, without question.”
Rachel shook her head. “But we broke up.”
“Yes, but you were meaningful to him at a time when he was in great pain,” Carver said gently. “He might want to end you to end that pain. Allegedly.”
Monty sighed. “Tell you what. Why don’t I go get some Fireball, and every time that moron says the word allegedly, we can take a shot?”
Laurel shook her head and sat back to watch the remainder of the show. Finally, Carver shook Rachel’s hand, and the show went to commercial.
“What a bonehead,” Monty muttered.
“I dated him,” Laurel admitted.
Monty swung to face her. “You did not date that idiot.”
She sighed. “I did. Worse yet, he broke up with me. He claimed I failed to be there for him emotionally.”
Monty laughed out loud and then looked down at his laptop. “This guy’s all over the Internet. He separated from the FBI in December and now runs his own business looking for missing persons. His initial fee is fifty grand.”
Laurel’s jaw dropped. “Fifty thousand dollars? This is a publicity stunt for him?”