Because, if she had the right man, Xavier-Quentin had been killed in a road traffic accident in Montana two weeks before Deanna disappeared. Deanna wouldn’t have known about his death at the time she went missing because Xavier-Quentin—if it was him—had been so badly disfigured in the smash it took the authorities another week to identify him.
With a sinking feeling in her gut, Laurie studied the newspaper report that confirmed the victim’s identity. The photograph alongside the report showed a handsome, blue-eyed, blond-haired man with a charming smile. Sarah’s words came back to her. Flashing that smile... Of course Deanna could have gone looking for Xavier-Quentin, discovered he was dead and been too embarrassed to return. It seemed a far-fetched scenario.
It seemed more likely that Deanna had not left Stillwater in search of Xavier-Quentin. Sarah Milligan had assumed that he was the one sending Deanna the flowers, but he was already dead when the last arrangements were sent. Which prompted a new set of questions. Who was sending the flowers? And what did happen to Deanna Milligan?
If Laurie’s instincts were right—dear God, let me not be right—and Carla and Deanna had been stalked and then murdered by the same man, the secret admirer who sent them flowers, was it possible they were not the only ones? If the link between the two of them had been missed, it was entirely possible other connections had been overlooked. How many other local women had been sent a heart-shaped arrangement of dark red roses?
Heart pounding, Laurie started another internet search right there. Heart-shaped arrangement of dark red roses. The typed words produced a surprising variety of images. None of them looked like the ones that had been left in her cabin. None of them tied into any of the local florists listed on her laptop screen.
Picking up her cell phone, she started calling the flower stores. Her questions were the same for each. A friend of hers had been sent a heart-shaped arrangement of red roses that she’d loved. As a surprise gift she wanted to send the same arrangement, but she wasn’t sure where it had come from. Yes, the same arrangement every week. No? Okay, thanks for your time. Her calls were hampered by an annoyingly intermittent phone signal. It hadn’t happened before, and it was just typical that her cell phone connection should keep cutting out now when she was in the middle of these important calls.
None of the florists had made up the arrangement Carla had received. No one seemed to be commenting on social media about how strange it was they were receiving heart-shaped roses from a secret admirer. She didn’t know what to make of that result. Good news? That sixth sense she’d developed over years of doing this job told her it wasn’t. All it meant was if there was a link, she hadn’t found it yet.
Three hours later, and it looked like her sixth sense was right. In the last three years, five women—not including Carla and Deanna—all with dark hair and blue eyes, had disappeared from Stillwater. When she widened that search to include the whole county, the number rose to twelve. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Laurie lined up the pictures of the five women from Stillwater alongside those of Carla and Deanna on her computer screen. She swallowed hard, her hand instinctively reaching for her phone. Who was she going to call? Oddly, her first thought had been Cameron Delaney. Good thinking, Laurie. Call the criminal mastermind who might just be at the heart of this. Moreton? If she called in now, she’d be on the next flight to San Diego and would never get any answers. A glance at her phone told her she had no signal anyway. She frowned. That had been happening on and off since last night. It had to be the mountains.
She forced her attention back to the laptop screen. The resemblance between those seven girls wasn’t just a passing likeness. It was striking. Eight girls, not seven. My picture should be up there. Each had dark curls, bright blue eyes, creamy skin and a dazzling smile. This guy has a type, and I’m it. Her thoughts kept flying off at disordered tangents. Okay, focus. Carla. She was the odd one out. The others all disappeared, seemingly without a trace. Although there was still a long way to go to be sure about that, Laurie’s gut instinct was sending her some very strong messages. But Carla hadn’t disappeared; she had been killed. If Laurie was right, her death made to look like an accident. Why was that? Carla had to be the key to this. Laurie scribbled down a few notes in her unique shorthand, jotting down the names of the missing girls, locations and the dates they were last seen, together with her observations and questions. Technology was all very well, but sometimes she liked to do it the old-fashioned way.
A knock on the cabin door startled her, and she glanced around, surprised to see the light was already dropping into late afternoon. It was still too early for it to be Cameron. Quickly closing the laptop lid, she checked the window at the side of the door. When she saw who it was, she knew things must be bad.
“Moreton?” He stepped inside as soon as Laurie opened the door.
“Pack your stuff. As of now, you’re out of here.”
“Would you care to tell me why?” She couldn’t disobey an order from him, but she was sure as hell going to question it.
“You were right about Carla.” He turned the key in the lock, removed it from the door and placed it in his pocket. Gesturing to the sofa, he sat down.
Laurie joined him. “How did the police miss it?”
“It was a difficult one. She did drown, there’s no question about it. That was the cause of death. It was what happened to her before she drowned that’s the issue. The coroner documented a number of injuries that were caused immediately before her death, including—and I quote—‘a blow to the back of the head and bruising to the throat consistent with strangulation.’”
“She was murdered.” Laurie’s heart gave a sickening thud.
“Not officially. Consistent with. Those were the key words. It was the water in her lungs that killed her. The coroner’s verdict was accidental death.”
“Someone was on that boat with her. He killed her.” Laurie reached for her laptop and opened the lid, pointing to the photographs. “Each of these women has disappeared from her home in Stillwater over the last three years. Carla is the only one we know for sure has died.”
Moreton studied the screen for a few seconds, then his eyes went to Laurie’s face and lingered there. Why did she get the feeling he wasn’t surprised by what she was telling him? “There’s a lot more I need to tell you, but like I said, it’s time to go. Right now.” His voice was deadly serious. “We’ll get someone else in to investigate Delaney Transportation as soon as we can, but your safety is more important.”
She rose to her feet. “Does Mike Samuels know about this?”
Laurie had never met Samuels, Moreton’s superior in the agency, but she knew his word was final. On everything. Moreton didn’t quite meet her eyes, a fact that did nothing for her confidence. “I’ll fill you in on everything while we drive to the airport.”
Laurie nodded. If there was a serial killer on the loose and her handler was keeping secrets, she wanted out of here. “I’ll get my stuff.”
As soon as she got into the bedroom, she took her suitcase down from on top of the wardrobe and started pulling clothes out of the closet. After a minute or two, a sound from the next room caught her attention and she paused, listening intently. Moreton must have been moving around restlessly, impatient for her to be finished. Next there was a loud thud followed by silence.
“Moreton?” She tried to keep the note of panic out of her voice. There was no reply.
Was she imagining it, or could she sense a presence just outside the bedroom door? Someone listening on the other side of the wooden panels? Her supercharged perception told her she could hear heavy breathing. Then, just as she thought she might go mad with anticipation, she heard the sound of footsteps moving away. There was a pause, followed by the unmistakable sound of one of the windows being raised. She judged the sound to have come from the rear of the cabin. Quiet descended once more.
With a cold feeling of dread closing around her heart like icy fingers, Laurie moved across the bedroom. With shaking fingers, she reached into the top drawer of the bedside table. Her hand closed around her gun and she withdrew it, willing