Page 21 of Chilled

“No?” She pushed back and shoved her hands into the rubber gloves, blinking back the moisture in her eyes. When she turned, she had her emotions under tenuous control. “Why not? I’m the one he wants.”

“He’s using you.” Nick breathed out a long steady breath. “Look, the guy is psychotic and would probably kill even if you weren’t a convenient excuse.”

“Sure.” Brenna moved to brush by him, but Nick grabbed her upper arms and held her still.

“It’s not your fault. I won’t have you blaming yourself for a crazy man’s actions.”

“Why should you care? You’re Nick Tarver, the FBI agent. The man who is all about the case and nothing else.” Her voice broke, and the tears she’d been holding in check slid silently down her cheeks. “Why do you give a flying flip whether or not I blame myself? You didn’t know any of those women. I did! Why do you care?”

“Because it’s my job, and because I see a lot of me in you.” He dropped his hands from her arms and stepped aside. “I used to blame myself when another victim was killed while I was still looking for the person responsible.”

Brenna swallowed the lump in her throat. “You did?” The tough FBI agent blamed himself.

“Yes. Not only was it a drain on me, but also on those around me.” His voice dropped, and he looked through her as if seeing into his past. “Including those you should care most about...”

That look and the way his voice trailed off caught Brenna unaware, and she opened her mouth before thinking. “Is that why you’re divorced?”

That faraway look turned into a hard, level stare right into her eyes.

Brenna held her breath, afraid she’d stepped over the line by prying into the team leader’s personal life.

Then his gaze shifted to her gloved hands. “That was only part of the reason.”

He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he turned and walked back toward the war room, pushing his hands into rubber gloves.

When Brenna didn’t immediately follow, he looked back over his shoulder. “Are you going to open the letter, or do you want to wait and let the crime lab do it?”

Brenna brushed the tears from her cheeks and squared her shoulders. “Let’s do it.” Her feet propelled her forward until she was standing in the middle of a circle of FBI agents and Riverton police personnel. Paul handed her a pocketknife.

“Maybe you guys should leave the room.” Nick stared around at the assembled group. “We don’t know if this guy poisoned the envelope or dusted it with something toxic like anthrax.”

Paul looked to Melissa. “You going anywhere?”

She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Me either,” Chief Burkholder said.

“That goes for me too.” Nick held up his hand. “But hold that thought.”

He left the room and returned moments later with masks for the rest of the team. After they’d all pulled them over their noses, he took the baggie from the chief and handed it to Brenna.

“Here goes.” Brenna slid the envelope out of the baggie. Then she sliced a letter opener through the end, spilling the single, folded sheet of computer paper onto her gloved hand. Carefully, she spread the sheet open and read aloud.

The first could see inside my head, but now she can’t because she’s dead.

And you can’t find my number two. Guess who’s smarter—me or you?

Cold slithered over her body like someone had left the front door open during a blizzard.This man hates me. What had she done to garner that much hatred? Her gaze rose to lock with Nick Tarver’s.

“This guy is going down.” His words were low and dangerous.

“I’m with you,” Paul said.

Nick walked over to Chief Burkholder. “Can you get on the phone with the judge and get us a warrant to search Dr. Drummond’s office? Based on the wording of that letter, we have probable cause to believe he could have been one of her patients.”

“Will do,” Chief Burkholder said.

“The sooner the better,” Nick said. “Lives could depend on those files.”

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