Page 46 of Just Right

Becker had felt a vicious need for revenge, to stop his mother’s diatribe, even if it ended up destroying him as well.

He had leaned forward from the back seat where he'd been pinned between his aunt and his sister, with his mother screaming at him from the driving seat and his big sister turning around to look at him in worry and distress.

He had grabbed the wheel, pulling it away from her. He’d seen her try to grasp it. He’d seen her wrist in such detail, the blue wristband around it, the red flash of her beaded earring. And he had twisted it as hard as he could. He hadn’t been thinking beyond that, not any further, but he’d known with vicious triumph this would be enough to shut the old lady up at last.

Screams had filled the car as it had started to skid, hitting ice, whirling off the road, the trajectory sudden and violent and uncontrollable. It had tipped and rolled. A chaos of crashes, smashes, and screams.

And then, nothing. Only the blacktop, hitting his head, annihilating the memories. Nothing. He had no idea how he'd moved from the road, and he guessed that would always be a blur.

He'd killed his whole family by twisting the wheel. That, he now realized. That was what he'd pieced together.

But if he could only find them, if he could get to people who were close enough, he felt certain that he could bring them to life again. He needed to do it because the pain inside him was almost unbearable. He had to find a way to make it all disappear.

In the end, it only took a few days to find his first target.

It had been a few days of remembering, and a few days of piecing together the details, the social media sites, the friends, and the locations. They were all there. He wasn’t much of a planner; he was more of a spur of the moment kind of guy. But he'd learned to be patient. He'd learned to prepare. He had learned some very useful skills in the militia, even though he couldn't say he'd made any friends. That was a skill he didn't seem to know about.

He'd learned to become stronger than anyone could imagine.

Now, the man checked his phone and climbed into his borrowed car, smiling as he confirmed where he was heading. He had no doubt that his next target would be there because he had been very careful to confirm it correctly. That was one thing he found he was good at.

It was only after he'd left the militia that he had realized there were other social connections to be made, outside of friendships and groups. Online connections. He could follow people without them knowing it. That was fascinating to the lost man. Fascinating and strangely compelling. As his network slowly expanded, he realized that there were people out there who resembled his family.

Perhaps that was also what had triggered his memories. The first time he'd seen someone on social media who resembled his dead aunt, it was as if part of that memory had been unlocked. And from there, it had snowballed. And within the rush of memories, his plan had come to him. It was a brilliant plan. He felt totally confident it would work, but it relied on him following it through.

At first, the kills had felt strange. Later, though, he had found them satisfying.

He was looking forward to reaching this last destination. He checked the location pin. As he thought. His final victim was on the move.

And when she got to where she was heading, he would be waiting.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

While she and Connor were speeding toward Meryl Steele, Cami couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing an important detail. That there was going to be something this killer knew, and they did not.

Yet again, she checked her programs. They had identified only two potential victims, but it was always possible that he had changed his parameters slightly and was following a third.

Cami told herself that she had to trust his patterns, and she had to trust her program. There was nobody else she'd been able to identify who fitted the right description.

Connor's phone rang. Steering with one hand, he grabbed it. "Yes?" Quickly, he thumbed it onto speaker so that he could turn more accurately through a twisting series of bends.

"Connor? Can you talk?" The voice was unknown, and Cami's mind flitted immediately to Ethan. She hoped that he was okay. The few cases she'd been on had made her realize what a high level of risk was involved in every single criminal chase down. Busting a trafficking ring sounded dangerous.

"Hi, Ben. I'm on the road,” Connor said. “About five minutes away from the possible victim's residence. You got anything?"

Cami realized that Ben must be one of the team assessing the footage back in the FBI office.

"We're trying to narrow it down,” Ben explained. “We have the two sets of footage. They’ve just come in, but a section of one of them is corrupted, so we have to request it again."

"You know the approximate times," Connor said. "The aquarium will give you the narrower time frame, so look there first."

"We'll do just that, boss. I've identified the times, and we're searching within those parameters right now. As soon as we have the updated footage, we’ll hopefully be able to see if there’s a match."

"Excellent. Call me if you get results. I'll call you if anything changes."

Connor hung up and turned to Cami. "We've got somewhere to start with the vehicles. That might narrow down the search."

Cami tried to push down the feeling of unease that was creeping inside her. She knew that she had to think ahead and had to focus on what was waiting at Meryl Steele's place. The local police would hopefully be at Jayne's house within the next few minutes. With any luck, both these women would be safe. And now, at least they knew who their killer was. With his identity and his home address now confirmed, it would be far easier to track him down.

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