“Get me Pile. Put the bastard on the line.”
Pile’s eyes filled his face.
But Monica shook her head and said, “I’m afraid Pile’s not available right now, but this is Special Agent Monica Davenport. Maybe I can help you.”
Silence.
Then laughter. “You move fast, bitch.” The voice was male, but distorted. Static crackled, and a train whistle blew in the distance.
“Do I?”
“Put me on the air. That was the deal. I call, I get on the air.” Rage was evident, shaking the words.
“Why? If you’ve got something to say, say it to me.” No rage, no tension, just that cool ice.
Lora shifted beside Kenton, rocking forward on the balls of her feet.
“I want to tell them who I am. They need to fear me. Fucking fear me.”
“Is that why you’re starting the fires? So people will be afraid of you?”
Silence.
“What is it that you want?” Monica pressed. “I mean, do you want your fifteen minutes of fame? Is that why you’re calling the station? Well, you’ve already had those fifteen. Your fires were splashed over every paper in the state today. You know that.”
More laughter and static rustled over the line. “You shouldn’t have f**ked with me. You shouldn’t have gone on TV and told lies about me.” A brief pause. “You’re there, aren’t you, Agent Lake?”
Kenton tensed.
“And I bet you’ve got the pretty fire whore with you. You can’t seem to go any damn place without her at your side, can you? Hello, Lora. I loved watching you last night.”
“Asshole!” she yelled.
“Do you like the fire, Lora? Do you like the way it burns? When it touches you, does it feel like a lover?”
“No, you sick prick, it—”
Kenton caught her hand, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close. “Don’t,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t give him anything.” Rage had tightened every muscle in Kenton’s body. How the hell had he known Lora was there?
Sonofabitch. Not just the fires, he was watching them.
“She’s a wild one, isn’t she, Lake? Too much for you.”
His hold on Lora tightened.
“The fire touched you before, Lora. I know. Licked your skin and made you scream.”
Her chin lifted.
“But it’s not all pain, is it? When the fire lances your flesh…” A sigh. “Tell me, Lora, how much heat can you handle?”
Kenton could feel her body trembling in his grasp, but he didn’t speak.
“Why do you care about Lora?” Monica demanded.
A rush of air—no, wind—on the phone line. Then the caller said, “I don’t, but he does.”
Kenton’s gut clenched.
“Don’t you, Agent Lake? She matters to you.”
Monica shook her head, frantic. Don’t speak. She mouthed the words. Because speaking, snapping back, that would be exactly what the prick wanted.
“You want to talk to Agent Lake, then you come in. Come to the police station, and we’ll—”
“Time’s up.” No more rage. He spoke with a tone as flat as Monica’s voice. “And your tracer won’t work, Davenport. I’ll ditch this phone in the next five seconds.”
“You don’t—”
“Get ready. Hell’s coming.”
Another rush of wind, and then, nothing.
Lora’s shoulders slumped, and her body sagged against Kenton.
Over her head, Kenton met Monica’s glittering stare.
Hell’s coming.
CHAPTER Eleven
There was silence in the room. Even Pile seemed stunned. “Did we get a trace?” Kenton asked, easing his grip on her.
The cop glanced up. Kenton recognized him right away. Jess Tyler. He’d retrieved the computer visitor log from Meadows Rehab, a log that had turned up jack shit.
Michael Randall’s mother hadn’t even bothered to visit the kid while he was in rehab.
Jess nodded quickly. “I, uh, we got hits from the cell towers. I think we can correlate it to about two hundred feet.”
“Do it.” Kenton stepped back from Lora. He had to, because the job waited. Dammit. “I heard trains. There’s an old train yard on the west side of town, right?”
Jess gave another fast nod. “Yes, sir, and that’s where the signal seemed to cor—”
That was all Kenton needed to hear. “Ramirez, let’s go.”
Lora grabbed his arm, holding Kenton back. “He’s been watching us. He knew I was here because he’s been watching.”
Kenton nodded grimly. He’d planned to attract the bastard’s attention. He just hadn’t planned on getting the perp to fixate on Lora. But now wasn’t the time for explanations. He needed to move, fast. “Stay with Davenport,” he told Lora as he spun away from her. This time, she let him go.
And though he wanted to, so badly, he didn’t glance back. Not once.
The killer waited.
I’m coming, ass**le.
Her heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. Lora paced the small control room and watched the cops fiddle with their equipment. She watched Davenport call someone, probably Hyde, and tell him that she wanted more tech support, ASAP.
And she heard that bastard’s voice in her head. Over and over.
Do you like the fire, Lora? Do you like the way it burns?
The plan had been to hunt him. To stop him.
But he was watching her? Hunting her and Kenton? Hell, no.
“Do you have family you want to stay with?” Monica asked, her voice breaking the silence.
Lora’s brows rose. “You think this guy is coming for me?” Let him. She’d love to get that bastard in her sights.
Monica gave a small shrug. “He’s brought you into his game, addressed you specifically. If you wish to change your location, no one would—”
“I’m not running from him.” She wouldn’t run when she’d been spending so much time searching for this guy.
Yeah, she had plenty of family. Family who’d love to take her in. Any of her brothers—
Oh, damn, but when her brothers found out about this…
She wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without them. They’d want to be with her every minute.
No, no, she couldn’t tell them. They could not find out. Because there was no way that she’d put them at risk. Ryan especially.
She shook her head. “My family is staying out of this.” She really wasn’t the running and hiding type. Besides, she had her dad’s gun. Ryan had given it to her three years ago. She’d be keeping Old Faithful close, too.