She vomited water. Dirty brown water that shot from her mouth and nose. Wood bit into her palms as Sam tried to shove off the dock.
Too weak.
More water poured from her mouth. Her eyes burned. She couldn’t see anything. Too blurry.
And she hurt. Every part of her.
Laughter.
Her arms gave way, and she fell onto the dock.
“That was fun. For a minute there, I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get free of those ropes.” His voice. Taunting her.
She’d kill him.
A violent coughing fit had her body jerking.
“Looks like that hurts,” he murmured, and the dock creaked beneath his feet.
She swung out at him. She caught his legs and shoved. He fell back, slamming his head into the wood.
Move.
Sam lurched to her feet. Water dripped down her body as she stumbled. Get away from him.
From the water.
She’d clawed her way out of that watery grave. No way was she going back. He’d be dying.
He slammed into her just as she jumped off the dock and reached the sandy shoreline. They fell together, and sand flew into her mouth. He pinned her, holding both wrists against the ground and trapping her legs with his.
“Aw, sweet Sam…” His breath feathered over her ear. “You really didn’t think I’d end things this soon, now did you? Playtime’s just gettin’ started.”
She bucked against him and rammed the back of her head into his.
“Bitch!”
“Asshole,” a hoarse croak. “L-let me—”
He spun her around. For an instant, he was a hazy mass above her. Some kind of cap over his hair. Dark shirt. She couldn’t see his face—just a blur and then—his fist came at her.
Driving into her jaw. Once. Twice.
“Think you’re so damn smart, don’t you?” He taunted and her head sagged back. “You’re weak, just like all the others. Weak and scared. A sad little girl, screaming for help that won’t come.”
He stood, kept her wrists pinned together, and began hauling her back toward the water. “This time, I’ll hold you under. Let’s see how long it takes for you to stop breathing. And maybe, maybe I’ll bring you back and do it again.”
Her legs kicked, and she twisted, and the sand flew around her.
“I’ll feel you die.”
Water sloshed against her. A shudder worked through her body. “No, no, you bastard!” It should have been a scream but her throat was too ravaged. “L-let me go! Let me—”
“Scream. I like it when they scream.” Talking to himself more than to her.
He shoved her down into the water face first. His hands tangled in her hair, and he forced her down. Her mouth was open, and water pumped down her throat.
She clawed at his hands. Desperate. No, not like this—
He hauled her up. “Take a breath. Let’s see how long you can last.”
Sam gagged. Fought for her breath.
Then the water came at her again.
The search party headed out, and the damn reporters pounced the minute they left the station. Luke went out first, and they got him. Cameras, bright lights, and microphones were shoved right at his face. Dammit, this was not his scene.
“Is it true the Watchman has a federal agent in custody?” A perky blonde demanded.
“Do citizens need to worry?” A tall man with one really tacky hairpiece asked, his voice oozing fake concern. “Can you keep us safe from the Watchman?”
Luke’s body tightened.
“No statements!” Kenton’s booming voice. “Back off and give the team room to move here, or I swear to God, I’ll make sure none of you get a peep about this until after the national news carries the story.”
The reporters stepped back.
“Cut,” the blonde muttered, while the man adjusted his toupee.
Monica shoved past the throng. Luke kept pace right with her. There had to be about ten more reporters there, all hungry for blood.
“Damn idiot Vance,” the sheriff grumbled behind him. “Found him talking to Charlotte Peters earlier.” A jerk of his thumb toward the blonde. “I sent his ass out on recon. I don’t want him near those reporters again. Watchman, my ass.”
The sheriff stormed toward his cruiser. “Melinda, radio Vance and Pope, tell them to meet us on Vernon, got it?”
Luke jumped in the SUV, and Monica gunned the engine. Kenton would follow behind them. And he’d follow fast.
She slammed her foot on the accelerator, and the SUV shot out of the lot, narrowly missing a news van.
“Monica! Christ, it’s okay, be—”
“It’s not okay.” Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “He’s playing with her now, Luke. Hurting her. Making her scream and beg.”
“We’re going to find her.” Monica had her sights on the killer, only him. The profiler was turned on, locked in. Too locked in. “Don’t think about what he’s doing. Focus on Sam. Finding her.”
“I can’t.” Whispered. Desperate. A tear leaked down her cheek. “I can’t ever turn it off. It’s always there. I’m always thinking like them. Knowing what they’d do. What they’d like. How they’d hunt.” She didn’t look at him, just kept her eyes on the road.
He kept his eyes on her. “You’re not like them.” Her job was to profile; that was it. She wasn’t evil, not like those freaks they hunted.
“Yes, I am.” Still so soft. “More than you can know.”
He touched her arm. Had to. She needed him.
She flinched away.
Too damn bad. His jaw locked, and his fingers curled around her. “You’re not like them.”
Another turn. Pine trees surrounded them now. Tall, twisting pines, their top branches stretching toward the clouds.
“You don’t know me.” Now she did spare him the briefest of glances, and her blue eyes stared blankly at him. Hollow. “You don’t know me at all.”
His fingers tightened around her arm, and he took the hit right to the gut. “Isn’t that what you want?” No one got close to her. Not him, and he’d be willing to bet not any of the others at SSD.
She didn’t answer.
“Why?” The demand slipped out. The GPS tracker indicated they had five more minutes before reaching the cabins. Not much time, but Monica’s shields were down, and he had to know. “Why do you shove the walls between us?” He deserved an answer.
Another turn. Onto a red dirt road. Toward the sun.