Page 70 of Bad Blood
Briggs kept his reply brief. “No crime scene. No victim. Not yet.”
Yet. That word served as a reminder of every person we’d failed. While we’d been here in Gaither, searching for clues, two more people had died. Another would join them soon, join thehundredsof victims the Masters had murdered through the years.
“We need to go through our past cases,” I said tersely, fighting back against the crushing reality that when we made mistakes—when we weren’t good enough, when we were too slow—people died. “Identify persons of interest.”
“Female persons of interest under the age of twenty-five,” Dean said quietly. “Even if the other Masters have been suggesting victims that will make a point to the FBI, this ismytest, and that’s my type.”
Dean’s words sent a chill down my spine, because they gave life to a suspicion lurking just below the surface of my mind. Each Master chose nine victims. Victimology was one of the things that separated each Master from the next.
But this time, our killer wasn’t the only one with a say in the kills.
This isn’t just ritual. It’s personal. No matter how many times I tried to slip into this UNSUB’s head, I kept coming to the same conclusions.Someone made it personal, because we’re getting close. Because we’re in Gaither.
“The Masters had the apprentice kill Bryce and Tory because of us.” I swallowed, but I couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of my mouth. “I’m not sure if it’s revenge or an attempt to lure us away from Gaither, but if we weren’t here…”
On the other side of the room, Michael had his cell phone pressed to his ear. He said nothing, ending the call and trying a second time.
“Michael—” Lia started to say.
He slammed his fist into the wall. “Female,” he said, like it was a curse word. “Under twenty-five. With a connection to one of our previous cases.”
For the first time since I’d known him, Michael’s expression was transparent.Terrified. Nauseated.
And that was when I realized…
“Celine,” I said.Female. College-aged. Bile rose in my throat. “She was the ‘victim’ in our most recent case. If they’ve been watching us…” A heavy feeling settled over my limbs. “She helped us identify Nightshade. And we just pulled her back into the case.”
Not we, I thought, horrified.Me. I was the one who suggested we call Celine—just like I went to see Laurel.
“If she was there, she’d answer.” Michael slammed his fist into the wall again and again, until Dean forcibly hauled him back. “With everything that’s going on, she’d answer.” Michael struggled violently against Dean’s hold before stilling abruptly. “My call went to voice mail. Twice.”
No matter how many times we called Celine, her phone went straight to voice mail. Briggs sent a local field agent to her dorm to check on her, but she wasn’t there.
No one had seen or talked to Celine Delacroix since we’d sent her the photos hours earlier.
“First they went after your sister, Colorado,” Michael said dully, his eyes empty of emotion. “And now they’ve taken mine.”
Lia crossed the room to stand in front of him. For no apparent reason, her hand snaked out to slap him across the face, and a moment later, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him hard. As far as distractions went, that was a one-two punch.
“Celine is fine,” Lia said when she pulled back.“She’s going to be fine, Michael.”Lia could make anything sound true. Her breath was ragged as she continued. “I promise.”
Lia didn’t make promises.
“She’s only been missing a few hours,” Sloane added. “And given that she has a history of kidnappingherself, statistically speaking…” Our numbers expert paused, her blond hair falling into her face. “She’s going to be okay.” Sloane didn’t offer up a single number or percentage. Whatever numbers were flying through her head, she fought back against them for Michael and echoed Lia’s words. “I promise.”
Dean clapped a hand onto Michael’s shoulder. Michael’s eyes found their way to mine.
“She’s going to be okay,” I said softly. After everything we’d been through, everything we’d lost, I had to believe that. But I didn’t promise. I couldn’t.
Michael, taking one look at my face, would have known why.
A knock at the hotel room door broke the silence that had fallen over us. Judd stepped forward to prevent me from answering it. Looking through the peephole, he let his hand drop from the gun at his side and opened the door.
“You have a bad habit of disappearing, young lady.”
I processed Judd’s words before I registered the identity of the girl on the other side of the door.
“Celine?”
