LONE AGENT

Under other circumstances, FBI agent Samantha Bennett might welcome a bit of backup—but not from an overprotective Mountie. She’s been on the trail of a serial killer for six months and no one has ever taken the case seriously...until now. When Royal Canadian Mounted Police inspector Drew Kelley saves her life, he decides that the hunt for “Birdman” is his problem, too. Together they begin a cross-continent chase to stop the madman before he strikes again. However, Samantha fears her growing feelings for the lawman may weaken her focus, or worse—put Drew directly in the killer’s sights…

Northern Border Patrol: Keeping the U.S.–Canadian border safe

What happened to Drew?

Her partner could be hurt. Or worse, dead. Bile burned her throat. The thought of losing another partner caved in her heart. But her priority had to be eliminating the danger.

Still in a crouch and leading with a two-handed grip on her gun, she moved slowly in the direction of what she hoped was the front door. She mentally ticked off the steps. The dark overwhelmed her, playing havoc with her equilibrium. She bumped into something solid and froze. Her pulse jumped. Not a wall. There was no furniture.

Panic jolted through her. She jumped away and whipped around, looking for a target. But the blackness concealed the threat.

If it were Drew, he’d say something, right?

The scuff of a shoe on the wooden floor sounded as loud as a gunshot.

“Drew?” she whispered. Please, dear Lord, let Drew be okay.

If something happened to him…

Something touched her hair.

TERRI REED’s romance and romantic suspense novels have appeared on Publishers Weekly top twenty-five and Nielsen BookScan’s top one hundred lists and have been featured in USA TODAY, Christian Fiction Magazine and RT Book Reviews. Her books have finaled in the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award contest, the National Reader’s Choice Award contest and three times in the American Christian Fiction Writers’ The Carol Award contest. Contact Terri at terrireed.com or PO Box 19555 Portland, OR 97224.

Joint Investigation

Terri Reed

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For God has not given us a spirit of fear,

but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

—2 Timothy 1:7

To my husband, who loves and accepts me, flaws and all.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The smell hit her ten feet from the motel door. Fresh blood. Pungent and tangy. Sticky sweet. A scent once experienced not easily forgotten. FBI agent Sami Bennett’s stomach heaved. Anguish fisted in the middle of her chest. Images of arterial spray, unseeing eyes, birds, lots and lots of birds, flashed through her mind like an animated flip book.

Shaking her head to clear the pictures from her brain, she focused on the moment, her hands tightening around the grip of her Glock 23.

Clamping her lips together, she calmed her racing heart and pressed closer to the wall along the shadowy second-story balcony of the cheap motel on the outskirts of Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. All the bulbs in the wall sconces were broken.

Glass crunched beneath the heels of her black Dr. Martens boots. The cool dark night was ripe with moisture, and overhead thunder rumbled like an angry fist against a wooden drum.

Sami was angry, too. Angry she’d been chasing a phantom for six months who remained one step ahead of her yet had the gall to leave her a trail to follow. Frustration beat at her temple.

She thought of the photocopied postcard in her pocket. The latest clue left by the killer she’d dubbed Birdman because of the image of a small bird, either hand drawn, ink stamped or stickered, found on each clue.

She debated retreat. Most likely Birdman was long gone, leaving behind another dead body and another bread crumb to track. She was so tired of the gore, of the deaths. So tired of being the one to find the bodies.

But if there was the slimmest chance that she could catch Birdman, then she had to proceed. Giving up wasn’t an option. She wouldn’t rest until the man was behind bars.

She inched closer to the room at the end of the balcony. The air around her shifted as if a hot-breathed creature mirrored her steps. Tensing, she glanced over her shoulder. The world was shrouded in inky darkness. A shiver of apprehension tripped down her spine.

“Lord, please have my back,” she whispered.

With laser-like focus, she returned her attention to the door of room 218. Was Birdman in the room? Would she finally catch him?

She hoped so. She wanted this over. She wanted to take the man down. She wanted her life back, but she’d promised to bring her childhood friend’s murderer to justice. And she always kept her promises.

Steeling herself against what she’d find inside the room, she reached for the door handle. Through the thin leather gloves she wore, the handle was cool. She turned the knob.

The sound of glass being crushed behind her sent alarm sliding across her flesh. Before she could react, an arm snaked around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides and rendering her gun useless. A large hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her yelp of surprise.

Panic flooded her system. The world narrowed to one thought—escape.

She kicked and thrashed but the body at her back held her in an unbreakable grip. Her assailant unceremoniously hauled her off her feet and carried her away.

* * *

Royal Canadian Mounted Police inspector Drew Kelley gritted his teeth against the onslaught of feisty female in his arms. She packed a mighty hard kick and a mean elbow. Neither of which fazed him enough to loosen his hold. But he’d have bruises for her effort.

Seconds before he’d seen the person wearing an FBI-issued windbreaker sneak up the stairs, he’d heard his American counterpart exclaim through the communication link wedged in his ear, “What’s the FBI doing here?”

A good question indeed. The US Federal Bureau of Investigation was not part of this IBETs—Integrated Border Enforcement Teams—task force.

Discovering the intruder was a woman had been a surprise. With his hand still over her mouth to keep her from alerting the drug dealers they were hoping to catch, he carried her down the motel stairs and across the parking lot to another bank of rooms.

His team had commandeered a ground-floor room as their staging area. From there two members of the six-man team watched the parking lot, ready to signal when the fun started and they could move in to take down a drug dealer who was bringing illegal narcotics across the border into Canada.

The Americans had received an anonymous tip that a major drug deal was going down tonight in room 218. However, this woman—this supposed FBI agent—might have messed it all up.

The door to the ground-floor motel room swung open. US Border Patrol agent Luke Wellborn stepped back so Drew and the woman could enter the room. Luke closed the door behind him.

“Get the gun before she shoots someone,” he growled to the men inside.

US Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent Blake Fallon quickly disarmed the woman. He set the piece on the dresser and leaned against the wall with his arms across his chest. His hard features settled into cynical annoyance.

Once the door was closed, Drew withdrew his hand from the woman’s mouth.

“Put me down!” She twisted her head to glare at him. Her blue eyes sparked, making him think of gemstones in a jeweler’s display case, and her lush mouth bunched up with outrage.

Not about to let a pretty face distract him, Drew tucked in his chin to squint down at his charge. “Not yet. Who are you?”

“Special Agent Sami Bennett,” she ground out, and wiggled some more, trying to free herself. “My ID’s in my back pocket. I’m FBI.”

Luke snickered. “Right.”

Drew’s lips twitched but he held his smile at bay. He understood his colleague’s skepticism. Sami Bennett didn’t fit his image of a field agent. She was tall for a woman, reaching to Drew’s chin, which he estimated made her five-nine, and though there was no ignoring her feminine shape, she was slender, bordering on too skinny.

In addition to the black windbreaker with the FBI logo, she was dressed from head to toe in black.

He reached into the back pocket of her dark cargo pants to retrieve a leather wallet. He handed it off to the other man in the room, RCMP sergeant Justin Lorie.

Behind a pair of thick dark-rimmed glasses, Justin inspected the identification inside. “Appears she’s telling the truth.” He held up the FBI badge.

Blake snagged it. “We’ll see about that.” He pocketed the wallet with the badge.

Sami thrashed in Drew’s arms. “Hey, give that back.”

For all they knew, the ID could be fake. Just because she wore a marked jacket that anyone could order off the internet didn’t mean he believed her. Drew gestured toward the table and chairs across the drab, sorely outdated room. “Bring a chair over here.”

Justin dragged the closest chair away from the window and set it in front of Drew. Thankfully, it had arms and though the plaid seat cushion had seen better days, the chair would suffice.

Meeting Justin’s brown-eyed gaze, Drew conveyed his intent with one word: “Ties.”

Justin nodded.

Drew set the woman down in the chair and held her arms in place along the armrests.

“What are you doing?” Sami struggled to break free of his hold on her. “You can’t do this!”

Justin wound a plastic zip tie over the armrest and one wrist.

“Not too tight,” Drew warned, not wanting to damage her skin.

“Hey! Hey, you can’t—” she protested.

Justin threaded the end of the tie through the joint, the click, click of the tooth sliding along the ridges sounding like nails on a chalkboard. He secured one wrist, then the other.

Pulling against the restraints, the woman shouted, “I’m an American citizen. A federal agent. I’ll have your badge for this!” Her bright blue eyes flashed with anger in her attractive heart-shaped face. Blond hair escaped from beneath the black stocking cap covering her head.

“You’re not in the United States at the moment. This is my jurisdiction, ma’am,” Drew pointed out.

She leveled him with a mutinous scowl. “And you are?”

“RCMP inspector Drew Kelley.”

Sami looked at the Border Patrol logo on Luke’s jacket, then shot him a dark look. “You’re American. Tell him to let me go!”

Luke shrugged, his boyish features conveying empathy. The ten-year USBP veteran looked as if he were fresh out of the academy. A look that fooled many into underestimating him. “Not my show.”

“What are Border Patrol and ICE doing here?” She nodded at Blake, who, like Luke, wore a black jacket with his agency acronym emblazoned on the front and back. “A joint task force?”

“The bigger question,” Drew said, “is what are you doing here?”

She jerked her gaze back to him. “I’m tracking a serial killer. He is, or was, in that room. He’s going to get away.”

“Serial killer?” He rubbed his chin. If a serial killer were on the loose in his country, his office would know. What kind of ploy was this? His gaze lifted to the other members of the task force. “Do you know anything about this?”

Luke and Justin shook their heads.

“Nope,” Blake said, his dark eyes flashing with disdain. “My intel says there’s a major drug deal happening tonight at this motel in room 218. She’s probably part of it. Maybe a decoy to distract us.”

“Your intel is wrong,” Sami said. “I’m nobody’s decoy. There’s a dead body in that room.”

“You killed somebody?” Drew asked. For some reason the thought of her as a killer didn’t seem right. He shook off the thought. In his experience murderers came in all shapes and sizes. He’d been at this job long enough to not take anyone at face value.

“No,” she shot back in a tone that implied he was dense. “Of course not. You stopped me from entering the room, so how could I kill anyone inside?”

Blake shrugged and matched her tone. “Maybe you’re coming back to clean up.”

“How long have we been sitting on that room?” Drew asked his team.

Justin answered, “Three hours.”

Drew stepped toward the window. The view to room 218 was unobstructed. “No one has come or gone?”

“Nope,” Blake drawled, his American Southern roots echoing through the word. He pointed a finger at the woman. “Only her.”

Sami pulled against the restraints holding her to the chair. “The killer could still be in there.”

The agitation in her voice vibrated through the room and settled in Drew’s chest.

“You have to listen to me. You need to breach the door and capture him before he slips away.” She whipped her gaze to Drew. He sucked in a breath at the pleading look in her eyes. “The victim could be Canadian.” Her gaze slid back to Blake and narrowed her eyes. “Or American.”

For some reason Drew found himself drawn in by her impassioned plea. He considered his options. They could sit tight and keep watching the room. But his instincts told him this sting was a bust. Either Blake’s intel was bad or they’d been made.

Or they could move in now. If they did, then they were ensuring this operation was over, time and resources wasted. Although if what the woman—the FBI special agent—said was true...

He’d been appointed as the lead on the joint binational operation; the choice was his. “We breach the room.”

Blake pushed away from the wall, his lip curling. “I’m calling this in.”

“After,” Drew countered, asserting his authority as he met the ICE agent’s intense gaze. This was Drew’s op, his country. They’d proceed as he dictated.

Blake’s nostrils flared but he conceded with a nod. “Fine. You’re the boss...eh?”

His tone made it clear he thought Drew was making the wrong move.

Drew grinned. “That’s the rumor.”

Blake Fallon scooped up the Glock from the dresser and headed out the door.

If he was making a mistake, he’d deal with the consequences later. For now, Drew was going with his gut. “Let’s go.”

“What about me?” Sami cried.

At the door Drew paused. “You’ll be safe until we return.”

* * *

“Wait!” Sami gaped at the men’s retreating backs. “You can’t leave me here!”

The door shut behind them. Unbelievable. Sami stamped her foot with irritation and let out a growl of frustration. How dare the big Canadian treat her like a criminal!

She blew out a breath and calmed herself. Well, she’d show him.

Thankfully, his sidekick had placed the ties far enough up her wrist that she had movement of her hands. She lifted her right foot and set it across her left knee so she could reach her Ka-Bar knife tucked inside a sheath within her boot.

She drew the knife out and maneuvered the blade in her palm so that the flat side lay against her skin. Then carefully she pushed the knife with her fingers down the inside of her forearm beneath the tie.

She rotated the head of the knife until the dull edge of the blade dug into her skin while the sharp side pressed against the tie. Bending her palm, she applied pressure and the knife’s sharp edge cut through the plastic tie like butter.

Exhilarated with her success, she quickly sliced through the tie on her right wrist and then ran from the room.

A drizzling rain moistened the air. Not a good night to be outside. Her clothes soaked up the moisture, making her skin prickle and a chill slide across her flesh. She raced across the parking lot, her gaze on the dark balcony, her hand clenching her knife tightly.

Shadows moved along the walkway. The Canadian and his cohorts—ICE and US Border Patrol. Their presence didn’t make sense. Was it a coincidence that a joint task force team was staking out the exact place Birdman had led her to? Was Birdman toying with other agencies, as well?

Hurrying up the staircase, she stumbled on the steps. It was hard to see in the darkness, but she didn’t dare use the flashlight tucked in one of her pants pockets. As she reached the end of the balcony, the sound of wood splintering echoed through the quiet night. They’d breached the door.

“Halt!” A cry broke through the hushed silence.

A loud thud followed by a yelp of pain revved Sami’s blood. Anticipation grabbed her by the throat. Would they catch the killer? Would her nightmare finally come to an end?

“Suspect escaping through the bathroom window!”

She recognized the voice as the younger Canadian Mountie.

The ICE agent doubled back, nearly knocking Sami over as he ran down the stairs in hot pursuit of their quarry.

A light winked on in the room. The bright garish glow should have been welcoming. It wasn’t.

She hurried forward; the scent of death assaulted her senses. She gagged but forced herself to step inside the motel room. Would she ever grow accustomed to the smell? She prayed not.

She nudged aside the men. Their bleak expressions made dread twist in her gut. She followed their gazes to the bed. Though she knew what to expect because she’d seen other corpses, including that of her childhood best friend, the sight of the mutilated woman lying atop the multicolored bedspread made her breath catch and tears burn the backs of her eyes. Her heart sank. Would she ever be able to stop this madman?

Justin stumbled out of the bathroom doorway, holding his bleeding nose. “A guy was hiding in the bathtub. He dived out the open bathroom window.”

“And dropped two stories?” the man in charge, Inspector Drew Kelley, questioned. He stood well over six feet, with massive shoulders that filled out the midnight blue uniform beneath his flak vest. He wore his dark hair shorn in a classic clean cut. His hazel eyes reminded her of the leaves in fall.

Justin shrugged, clearly as perplexed as Drew.

“Agent Fallon is in pursuit,” Justin supplied.

Drew spoke into a radio attached to his shoulder, his commands sending others on the hunt, as well.

Fury erupted in Sami’s chest. If the Canadian hadn’t stopped her... She still had a chance to catch Birdman. Sami ran toward the busted hotel room door. Her gaze hit the wall over the bed. Her feet skidded to an abrupt halt.

Defacing the plain white wall was a rudimentary depiction of a set of eyes drawn in bright red. In blood.

The world tilted. Shivers of fear slid along her limbs. She almost dropped her knife. This was an ambush. The killer had anticipated her arrival. He’d wanted her to see that he was in control.

“Out with you,” Drew said to Justin. “We don’t need your blood contaminating the scene.” Justin left the room.

Drew turned his attention to Luke. “Secure the perimeter. This is a crime scene.”

The fresh-faced agent nodded grimly and left to do the big guy’s bidding.

Sami met Drew’s gaze. He watched her with an intensity that would have unnerved her but she was too freaked out to be fazed.

“How did you...?”

Interpreting his question of how she escaped the ties binding her to the chair, she held up her knife. “Your man didn’t do a thorough search.”

Irritation flashed in his eyes.

“Why did you think a drug deal was going down here?” she asked.

Drew ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “US Immigration and Customs Enforcement received an anonymous tip about drugs being smuggled from the US to Canada and a major buy was supposedly taking place here tonight.”

“It was Birdman.”

“Who?”

“The killer I’m tracking. He killed this woman. And he wanted you here. He wanted me here.” Cold fingers of dread traipsed up her back. “He knows I’m after him.”

“Why would he call in a phony crime and bring authorities here?” Drew asked.

She stared back at the wall. “I believe you saved my life, Inspector.”

“You think he wanted to kill you?”

“Maybe he wants me dead.” She lifted a shoulder to convey she was guessing. “Maybe he wants me to suffer.”

“Why?”

“I think because I’m the only one to connect the dots.” She turned to stare at the Canadian. The swirling depths of his eyes made her feel dizzy. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, which was set in a hard line.

She forced herself to straighten and meet his stare once again. “He either would have killed me or he would have framed me for this woman’s murder.” She’d almost walked into his trap. A shiver skated across her nape. “Instead of a drug bust, you’d be arresting a supposed murderer. Me.”

“Why do you call him Birdman?”

She tucked her knife back into her boot and then withdrew from her pocket the photocopy of the postcard from the last crime scene. She handed it to him.

Drew studied the image of the same low-budget motel they now stood in.

“Look on the back of the postcard,” she instructed.

“‘Room 218.’” Grim anger darkened the complexities of his eyes. “That’s how you knew to come here.”

“Yes. And see the little drawing in the bottom corner?”

“A bird. Crude but identifiable.”

“Birdman. All his bread crumbs hold similar images. Sometimes they’re hand drawn, as that one is. Sometimes he uses a stamp or stickers with the same type of bird image.” An image she couldn’t get out of her head. “I’ve scoured the makers of both the stickers and the stamps, but they’re too generic and sold too widespread to be of use tracking down Birdman through his purchases.”

Drew’s brow creased. “Where did he leave this?”

She inhaled as the crime scene flashed through her mind. “Washington, DC. The postcard was tucked into the shirt of his fourth victim.” Her eyes flicked to the bed and back. “This is number eight. As far as I know.”

“So he tells you where he’ll strike next.”

She let out a mirthless laugh. “Or where he’s been.” A knot twisted in her chest. “The clue on the third victim actually pointed to victim number five. And the bread crumb found at number two led to number six.” At Drew’s confused looked, she explained. “Time of death confirms the order.”

“Why is a lone FBI agent hunting this Birdman?”

A sour taste filled her mouth. When her boss found out where she was and what she was doing...she’d probably find herself in the unemployment line. But that was a risk she was willing to take. “I’m the only one who figured out the deaths are related. All the deaths occurred in different cities, different jurisdictions. I only stumbled across the connection six months ago.”

Because of Lisa. Her heart cramped.

Her eyes swept over the room looking for the clue to the killer’s next—or already dead—victim.

There, propped up against the television set. A small square object. She sucked in air as dread flooded her veins. From the leg pocket of her pants she grabbed a pair of disposable gloves and slipped them on.

Drew’s gaze, homed on her back like a laser, followed her as she walked to the console and gingerly picked up the credit card. She read the name embossed in silver lettering. James Clark.

Her throat closed up. The implications ricocheted through her mind, setting off clanging bells. A man’s credit card?

She flipped the card over. Her heart stalled. A bright yellow sticker of a bird flashed at her like a neon light.

The blood drained from her head, making her light-headed. Slowly, she turned to Drew.

Concern filled his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Eight bodies. All women, all killed exactly the same way.” She held out the card. “Birdman is changing his MO.”

TWO

After donning a glove to keep his prints off the evidence, Drew studied the credit card for a moment before lifting his gaze to Sami. She stood stiff as a board with her fists at her side. Though she tried to hide it, he could see she was wigged out by this turn of events. Her face had gone pasty white. She sucked in air, in and out, in and out.

Unexpected empathy twisted in his gut. The last thing he needed was for her to pass out in the middle of a crime scene and contaminate the evidence. Taking her by the elbow, he propelled her out of the motel room, away from the grisly scene and the eerie drawing on the wall.

“We’ll turn the card over to our forensic team when they arrive to process the room and handle the victim,” he said once they were on the balcony.

He tucked the credit card inside an evidence bag. According to Sami, the killer’s MO was evolving. Birdman, as she’d called him, was becoming more comfortable, more confident. Ready to add men to his repertoire.

It wasn’t unusual for a serial murderer to make subtle changes to their form of homicide as they grew more adept at killing, but a sudden change in gender? That was uncommon, though not unheard of. Was there more than one killer? Were the deaths Sami was investigating even related to the one here?

He couldn’t discount the bird image. She believed the bird was the killer’s signature. But Drew didn’t know what the symbol represented to the murderer.

“We need to run the name on the card.” Her terse tone matched the rapid clip of her stride. “Find him. Though it’s probably too late.”

“The credit card could belong to the victim in this room. Her husband’s?” Drew offered, though he doubted his own speculation.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Her certainty wouldn’t be swayed. Not that he blamed her. She was obviously committed and passionate about finding this murderer. He appreciated that. Police work took dedication and perseverance. Sometimes to the detriment of everything else in one’s life.

He should know. He didn’t have much beyond his work. Which was fine with him. He didn’t need anything or anyone else. It was simpler not to have a personal life, because outside the job, it was too easy to let his guard down as he had with his ex-wife. He had no intention of letting anyone else rip his heart to shreds.

Once they were in the parking lot, Drew headed for the American agents, Border Patrol Agent Wellborn and ICE Agent Fallon. They gathered with the rest of the IBETs team at the back of a van that housed their equipment. Only a few other cars dotted the parking lot. The motel didn’t do a huge business, it seemed, just enough to stay solvent.

Justin’s nose no longer bled and thankfully didn’t look broken. Drew led Sami to the group of men.

“Did you catch him?” Sami asked Luke, clearly finding him more approachable than Agent Fallon. Drew didn’t blame her. Fallon could be intimidating, but Drew also knew he was a good man to have watch your back. Fallon knew how to get a job done.

“No. He escaped,” Luke replied, frustration evident in his voice.

“He jumped into a sedan and took off,” Canadian Border Services agent Nathaniel Longhorn offered. A First Nation descendant, Nathaniel kept his black hair long and tied back with a leather strap. He was lean, muscular and deadly with a knife. Drew was glad to have him on his team. “I’ve radioed in the license plate to the Vancouver police and to the border crossing.”

“Secure the scene and wait for Forensics to show,” Drew instructed. Then he handed the evidence bag containing the credit card to Justin. “Run the name. Find out where this was last used and see if you can track down the man.”

Justin peered at the credit card. “Will do.”

“Whoever that card belongs to is a potential victim, if not dead already,” Sami interjected.

Blake slid his gaze to her. “You sound sure, Special Agent Bennett. And yes, I did check on your credentials.” He smirked. “Your boss is eager to talk to you.”

Sami glanced at Drew, then back to Blake. “I am sure.”

Interesting that she didn’t elaborate or acknowledge Blake’s remark that her boss wanted to talk to her. She’d indicated that no one took her claim of a serial killer seriously. Was her presence here unsanctioned?

He wasn’t sure if he was on board with the whole serial-killer angle either but he did have a dead body to contend with.

To the men, he said, “Call me when you know anything. I’m taking Special Agent Bennett to headquarters.”

At Sami’s questioning look, he added, “You can call your boss from there. The IBETs team works out of the consulate general’s building on West Pender Street here in Vancouver. The consul general along with US Homeland Security provide oversight for IBETs as well as other binational interagency task forces.”

“So I was right. You are working together as a joint team,” she murmured, her gaze raking over the men.

“Yes. We’re part of the Integrated Border Enforcement Teams—IBETs. There are several such task forces across the shared border between our two countries. Need to keep everyone safe, eh?”

A faint smile touched her lips. “Yes, I’m aware. Can I have my gun and ID back?”

Blake removed the Glock he’d tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “Here you go, princess.”

Her lip curled.

Drew suppressed a smile, though he didn’t condone the rudeness of his fellow team member. Blake handed over her ID and Drew gestured for Sami to follow him to where he’d stashed his vehicle. “This way.”

He opened the passenger door to his twenty-year-old Land Cruiser.

“Sweet ride,” she said as she slid inside.

He wasn’t into fancy and new. “I like vintage.”

When he climbed into the driver’s seat, she said, “I have a 1964 Chevrolet Corvair convertible that was my father’s. It runs but needs an overhaul. One of these days I’ll have the car restored.”

“Nice. What color?”

“Baby blue.”

Like her eyes. “Pretty.”

“It was Dad’s pride and joy back in the day.”

He didn’t miss the note of pride and affection in her tone. “Where’s he now?”

“He and Mom live in Seaside, Oregon.”

“Your hometown?”

“Yep. Born and raised Oregonian.” She described the beachside town in great detail while drumming her fingers on her knee. He sensed her monologue stemmed from nervous energy. Her words made him curious enough to want to visit the ocean town. If only to see it the way she did. She obviously loved her parents and the community she grew up in.

When she fell silent, he asked, “How did you decide to become a federal agent?”

She didn’t immediately answer. As the silence stretched, he figured she wasn’t going to respond. Then she said, “I have this deep-seated need to see justice done.”

Her answer resonated within him. He, too, felt the same drive. He slanted her a glance. Her face was turned away, and she stared out at the passing city. A clear signal that she was done with the conversation. He decided to honor the unspoken request.

When they arrived at the consulate building, Drew parked in his usual spot. They entered the skyscraper and took the elevator to the fifth floor. Drew ushered Sami to the IBETs offices. Few lights glowed in the quiet building. The cubicles and offices were empty. In the corner office where he had his desk, he gestured for her to take a seat in one of the two red upholstered chairs facing the desk. “You can use the desk phone to call your boss.”

She didn’t sit. Instead she produced a cell phone from one of her pants pockets. “I’ll step out into the hall.”

Nodding, he rounded the large oak desk to sit in the leather captain’s chair. “I’ll take you to your hotel after I write my report.” And put her on the next plane back to the United States. He couldn’t have her running around messing up any more operations.

He watched her silently leave the office, her back straight, her chin level. He wondered what shade of blond her hair was underneath the dark stocking cap. Giving himself a mental shake, he opened an email window and copied the people in charge of the IBETs program—the consulate general, the deputy director for US Homeland Security and the RCMP deputy commissioner of federal policing.

He quickly detailed the events of the evening, as well as his assessment that there might be a potential serial killer on the loose but that he had to do further research before moving on this information. He wasn’t ready to buy into Sami’s claim yet, despite the sincerity of the pretty agent.

* * *

“You are supposed to be on vacation, Agent Bennett.” Special Agent in Charge Rob Granger’s voice boomed into Sami’s ear. “Why are you in Vancouver, interloping on an IBETs investigation?”

Sami rubbed the bridge of her nose with her free hand while she stood in the hallway a few feet from Drew’s office. The carpet beneath her feet had a dizzying geometric pattern that added to the headache brewing behind her eyes.

She turned her back to Drew’s open door while she quickly explained to her boss her theory that Birdman had set her up. “There was no drug deal going down. It was a trap.”

“If that is true, Agent Bennett, all the more reason for you to back off.”

“Sir, he’s escalating.” She told him about the credit card. “Something has changed. If I stop now, how many more people will die? I can’t let this go.”

Granger’s voice dropped. “You’re a good agent, Samantha. With a promising career ahead of you. I would hate to see you throw all that away on a personal vendetta.”

“This isn’t a vendetta.” Personal, yes. Lisa was like a sister. But Sami wanted to see justice done, as she’d told Drew. She didn’t want any more lives lost. “Sir, please, let me follow the clues where they lead.”

“You really do believe there’s a case here?”

“I do, sir. And it’s within the purview of our office.”

“Then we need to assemble a team. Get a profiler involved. Go through the proper protocol. I’ll contact the Legat there in Vancouver and get the ball rolling.”

The FBI had sub offices located in various parts of the world. The Legats—legal attachés—liaison with the governing authorities. Canada had three sub offices operating in Vancouver, Toronto and the main sub office in Ottawa. Though Sami would appreciate any help they could provide it would take time. Time that James Clark might not have. Or the next victim and the next.

“That sounds great, sir, but in the meantime this unidentified subject is free to continue to kill.” Why didn’t he understand that she needed to move now, not wait for an official task force to be formed? “Sir, I’m close. I can feel it.”

He heaved a sigh. She could picture him rubbing a hand over his jaw the way he did when he was faced with a decision. She sent up a quick prayer he would see the logic in her request. She liked and respected her boss. He and his family were good people.

“I suppose what you do on your own time is none of my business.” He paused, then added, “Until it is.”

She smiled and leaned back against the hallway wall. “I have two weeks of vacation time accumulated.”

“Indeed. I’m giving you some leeway, Agent Bennett. As long as you are an agent of the FBI, you will act accordingly. Check in with the local police and keep me apprised of any and all developments at all times. That means you don’t act until you’ve talked to me. Follow, survey, observe. Gather information. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“I hope I won’t regret this, Agent Bennett.”

“You won’t, sir.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Samantha. If you so much as get a whiff of danger, call for backup. Tonight could have gone horribly wrong.”

Her insides twisted with the truth of his words. “Yes, sir.”

After hanging up, Sami found the restroom, where she rinsed her face with cold water. The white tiled sink and chrome faucet gleamed in the overhead fluorescent lights. A large rectangular mirror covered the wall behind the sink and her reflection stared back at her.

Tonight could have gone horribly wrong.

The words rang through her head. If Drew hadn’t stopped her from entering that motel room, what would have happened?

But he had and now she was in the Canadian Consulate General’s headquarters. A place she’d never imagined she’d end up tonight. But then again, she hadn’t known what to expect. Certainly not being detained by a handsome Canuck with control issues.

Her hands shook. A normal response given the adrenaline letdown. She needed to pull herself together.

But the frustration from not catching Birdman tightened her shoulder muscles. She should have been used to disappointment by now, but pessimism wasn’t normally her bag. Lisa would say Sami was a discouraged optimist. An oxymoron for sure.

A knock on the door startled her. Her hand went to her holstered gun. “Yes?”

“I’m finished with my report. Are you ready?” Drew’s muffled voice eased the spike of anxiety.

“Be right out,” she called.

She removed her stocking cap and let her hair fall to her shoulders. She finger combed the long strands as best she could then tied them back with a scrunchie she’d found in a pocket. She pinched her cheeks to give her face some color, but the dark circles of fatigue rimming her eyes were a lost cause. What did it matter, anyway? She wasn’t trying to impress Drew.

She stuffed the cap into her pocket before opening the door. Drew stood with one shoulder propped against the wall, his tall, lean frame relaxed. Handsome. The thought invaded her mind. The man was definitely good-looking, even with the signs of fatigue around his eyes and the day’s growth of beard shadowing his strong jawline.

He’d changed into navy khakis and a collared shirt beneath a jacket with the letters RCMP on the breast pocket, and on the back, as she’d seen earlier. Like hers. Only she had no jurisdiction here.

Despite her badge, at the moment she wasn’t acting as an agent of the United States but as a woman obsessed with finding a killer who’d murdered her best friend.

Drew pushed away from the wall. “Where are you staying?”

She gave him the name of a popular hotel chain in downtown Vancouver, then followed him to his vehicle where she settled into the passenger seat and let her curiosity about the man driving prompt her to ask, “How long have you been with the RCMP?”

“I was born into it,” he said with a grin.

She made a face. “What?”

“My dad’s a retired Mountie. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to follow in his footsteps.”

She wondered what Drew had been like as a kid. A strange tenderness filled her as she imagined a dark-haired boy hero-worshipping his father.

For the next ten minutes they chatted, keeping the conversation light and discovering similar tastes in movies and book genres. Drew followed the National Hockey League, while she could recite pro-football stats. She found him to be engaging and easy to be with. Strange considering their meeting. She’d have guessed they wouldn’t find so much to talk about. But when it came right down to it, they were more alike than was comfortable but for some reason she didn’t mind.

Drew pulled up in front of her hotel. Sami opened her door, grateful that for a few minutes she’d let herself be normal and been able to push thoughts of Birdman to the back burner. She had this man to thank. He’d made it easy to take a moment to breathe before she rushed back into her investigation. “Thank you for...well, everything.”

“My pleasure, Sami.”

When Drew turned off the engine, tension rushed into tight a knot in her tummy. It was one thing to let down her guard for the drive over but another completely for him to come to her hotel room door. “You don’t have to walk me up.”

“I don’t have to but it’s the polite thing to do.” He climbed from the vehicle before she could protest further.

Nerves on the edge of snapping, she decided not to fight him on this. She wanted to hang on to the last remnants of peace in the hope she might sleep tonight. She’d heard Canadians were super polite and friendly. He was living up to the reputation.

The doorman opened the glass door to allow them entrance. Sami smiled her thanks. Soft classical music played in the lobby. The polished marble floors gleamed and teakwood accents added texture, while plush, comfortable seating arrangements invited private conversations.

After nodding a greeting to the concierge, they took the elevator to the second floor. She slid her electronic key in the lock, waited for the green light, then pushed open the door. Darkness lay within.

Confusion made her hesitate. The overspill of the hallway light reached a few feet in front of her. She frowned and hovered on the threshold.

Drew stepped close, so close she could feel the heat from his body battling the sudden chill chasing down her spine. “Something wrong?”

“I left a light on when I headed out.”

“Most likely the maid turned it off after cleaning your room.”

Though that sounded plausible, the need for caution didn’t ease. She stepped inside the room and groped the wall for the light switch. When she flipped it, nothing happened. Her stomach knotted. She withdrew her sidearm.

Drew’s hand on her shoulder gently nudged her aside so he could step past her and move farther into the darkened room. Normally, she’d balk if a man took the lead away from her. She wouldn’t let anyone view her as less because she was a woman. But since she had no jurisdiction here and, frankly, was a little freaked out, she allowed him to enter first.

The curtains were drawn; however, a little light from the parking lot outside slipped through the edges, enough to cast gray shadows. Sami’s breathing slowed as she strained to listen. Was someone in the room?

She followed Drew deeper into the gloom. Heard him try the table lamp. But the room remained dark.

When she felt the air move, she whipped toward her left. A hissing sound filled her head and something hit her in the face, stinging her eyes, her nose, her mouth.

Pepper spray!

She gagged and spit. Fear fisted in her chest.

Drew’s guttural growl said he, too, had been squirted with the offending substance.

They were both vulnerable and the thought terrified her.

Suddenly, the floor-length curtains on the other side of the room were yanked aside. Light from the hotel’s back parking lot filled the room. Sami blinked back the tears of stinging pain. She could make out a dark figure at the patio door. She raised her gun but the intruder slid open the glass door and escaped over the balcony and into the night before she could sight down the barrel.

Drew gave chase, disappearing behind the assailant.

She stumbled forward intent on pursuit but she made it only to the sliding door before Drew returned.

He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and growled, “I couldn’t see which way he went.”

A sense of urgency gripped her. “Come on—we need to wash this stuff off.” She groped for his hand and latched on to lead him to the bathroom.

Thankfully, the light in the bathroom worked. She turned the cold water on, grabbed two washcloths from the rack and drenched them before handing one to Drew and using one herself.

After a few minutes the burning from the pepper spray was relatively under control. Drew found a pile of lightbulbs on the bed. He screwed one into the table lamp and turned it on. The warm glow expelled the shadows.

Sami’s gaze caught on the wall above the king-size bed. Her heart slammed into her ribs so hard she put a hand over her chest to protect herself.

Drew’s shocked hiss echoed in the stillness of the room.

Her mouth went dry.

WATCHING YOU

The words were scrawled in bright red letters on the beige-colored wall.

She gasped for breath, but her lungs refused to cooperate. Dark spots danced at the edges of her mind. She fought for control, hating the violated and vulnerable feeling invading her. Only one other time in her life had she felt this way and she’d vowed to never be a victim again. “No!”

So much for her vow or her determination. This situation was out of her control. She mentally scoffed. Of course she wasn’t in control. Only God was. Her fingers curled into fists. But where was God when Lisa was being murdered?

Forcing back the searing question, she concentrated on the current situation.

Birdman had been here. In her room. The sense of violation permeated through her like a virus, making her stomach roll.

“How did he find out where I was staying?” Her shaky voice echoed in the silent room. “I let him slip away again!”

And now the hunter had become the hunted.

* * *

With a lump of rage lodged in his chest at being caught unaware, Drew called hotel security. He wanted to view their video surveillance. He needed to catch a glimpse of the killer because he hadn’t caught sight of the perpetrator’s face before he’d vanished in the dark like a wisp of smoke.

No go.

Unfortunately, the security system had suffered a power failure and they were working on getting it back online. Coincidence? Not likely. This killer was savvy enough to down a sophisticated security system. Of course he’d knock out the hotel’s video surveillance before infiltrating Sami’s room.

Drew’s nerves jumped to think what would have happened had he not walked Sami to her room.

What was the guy’s plan? To pepper spray her and then...kill her or kidnap her?

Either way, Drew wasn’t going to let the guy have another chance.

“Pack your bags,” he said.

She turned from inspecting the writing on the wall. “This is paint, not blood.”

“The crime scene technicians can try to find a match to the color and brand and see who bought some recently.” He picked her suitcase up off the floor and put it on the bed. “I need to take you someplace safe.”

Pensive, she nodded and retrieved her clothing from the drawers and the closet. Once she had everything stowed in the suitcase, he grabbed the bag and urged her out of the room just as the local authorities arrived. He ran down the incident. He didn’t expect them to find prints; the guy had worn gloves. That much Drew had seen.

“Where are we going?” Sami asked minutes later as they settled in his Land Cruiser.

Good question. There was only one safe place he could think of on short notice. “My place.”

THREE

“Are you sure this isn’t an inconvenience?” Sami asked. She didn’t feel right about intruding on his personal life.

“Not at all.”

She followed Drew up the walkway of a well-lit two-story house at the end of a quiet tree-lined street on Vancouver’s east side. Fancy sconces were mounted on either side of the rust-colored front door. The house itself was painted a pale yellow with white trim. Empty window boxes created a lonely feeling in the pit of Sami’s stomach.

He unlocked the door and walked inside, flipping lights on as he went. She came in behind him and closed and relocked the door.

The house was silent and smelled faintly of savory pasta sauce. Sami’s stomach grumbled loudly. Embarrassed, she placed a hand over her tummy.

Drew’s chuckle heated her face. “I’m hungry, too.” He set her bag by the foot of the staircase. “I’ll make us some eggs and toast.”

He led her through the house toward the kitchen.

The living room had well-worn hardwood floors and brown leather furniture placed strategically in front of a large plasma television, making her wish this were a lazy Sunday afternoon and they were here to watch football.

A much better reason for invading his space than hiding from a madman.

On one wall, a floor-to-ceiling brick fireplace with a stack of wood piled in the firebox behind an ornate glass screen made her think of hot chocolate and cozy winter nights. Over the mantel hung a black-and-white landscape of a windy river cutting through snowy peaks and wooded lands. She recognized the style of a popular American photographer. The place was homey and inviting yet masculine. A bachelor pad.

No signs of flowers or any frilly things to suggest a woman’s touch. She slanted Drew a quick glance. She’d noticed the absence of a ring on his left hand. Did that mean he wasn’t attached, or did he just not wear a wedding ring while on the job?

Better to ask and appease her curiosity than let the question fester. “Your wife won’t mind me being here?”

He flipped on the overhead light in the kitchen. The ’70s-style mustard-colored Formica countertops were clean. A cast-iron skillet hung from a hook over the gas stove. “I’m not married.”

She wasn’t sure why she felt relief. His marital status had nothing to do with her. Yet she was itching to ask him why he wasn’t married. He was good-looking, employed and had a great personality. All the things any sane woman would be crazy not to pursue. But she didn’t want to let things get personal. She mentally snorted. As if staying in his guest room weren’t personal.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you married?”

She met his gaze. “No.”

“Why not?”

Her mouth twisted. He apparently had no problem asking the question. She went with the less complicated answer. “No time for romance.”

“Ah. I can relate to that.” Drew opened the mustard-colored refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread.

From his tone it sounded as if he meant no time for romance was also the reason he wasn’t married. Whatever his reasons, they were his. She wasn’t crazy enough to delve into the whys and whatnots.

Spying the toaster, she took the bread from him. “You concentrate on the eggs. I’ll be the toast master.”

He grinned. “I like your way of thinking.”

She liked him. Which was surprising considering earlier tonight he’d derailed her plans of capturing Birdman, but then again, as she’d concluded earlier, he’d saved her life. Twice now. An endearing fact, one she’d have to remember to keep in perspective. They shared the same commitment to their respective jobs. And that included saving a fellow law enforcement agent from harm.

She put two slices of bread in the toaster slots. As she twisted the tie on the end of the plastic bag, she was reminded of being tied up not so many hours ago. Thankfully, her wrists bore no marks from the zip ties.

A thump overhead sent a jolt of alarm through her body and kick-started her heart. She dropped the loaf of bread and reached for her weapon.

“Whoa, stand down,” Drew said softly.

Her gaze swung to him. “Did you hear that? Someone’s in your house.”

“It’s my dad.” He covered her hand holding the gun with his. The warm pressure sent tingles up her arm. His hands were big, strong and capable. “You’re safe here.”

The way he looked at her, as if he was really concerned for her, made her want to believe him. For some reason this man inspired trust.

Heavy footfalls sounded on the wooden staircase. An older man, wearing a white T-shirt and flannel pants, stepped into the kitchen and halted abruptly. His assessing gaze was cool as he regarded Sami and her gun, then swung his gaze to Drew. “I take it we have a guest, eh?”

“Yes, Dad.” Drew removed his hand from over hers. “We have a guest. This is Special Agent Sami Bennett of the FBI. Sami, my dad, retired RCMP inspector Patrick Kelley.”

Exhaling, Sami quickly released the hold she had on her weapon before thrusting out her hand at Drew’s father. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Warily, Patrick slid his big hand into hers. His calloused palm scraped against her skin. She could see the resemblance between father and son. Both were tall and formidable with the same dark hair and hazel eyes. Drew’s face had more angles and planes, whereas the elder Kelley’s face was softer and lined with age.

“Likewise, Sami.” Patrick shook her hand briefly. “It’s not often I enter my kitchen to find a beautiful woman holding a gun. Special agent, eh?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the compliment and for the fact she’d almost drawn on him. “I’m sorry about that. It’s been a stressful night.”

“Eggs, Dad?” Drew went back to scrambling eggs in a bowl.

“Don’t mind if I do, eh?” Patrick bent down to pick up the loaf of bread. “I’ll have some toast, as well.”

Sami cringed at the result of her embarrassing reaction. “Here, sir, let me.”

He handed over the bread and then turned to retrieve plates from the cupboard. “So, Sami, what brings the FBI to our door?”

“A case.” She pushed down the toaster button and sneaked a glance at Drew. How much would he tell his father?

“How long have you known my son?”

Drew poured the scrambled eggs into a sizzling pan. “We actually met tonight.”

Patrick’s eyebrows rose. “This I can’t wait to hear.”

* * *

An hour later Drew walked Sami to the guest room at the top of the stairs. He pushed open the door, glad to see the room was made up. They didn’t have many visitors, so the room wasn’t used often.

“You should find everything you need. Extra blankets and pillows are at the top of the closet.” He pointed to the door across the hall. “Restroom’s there. Towels and washcloths are in the cupboard under the sink.”

Sami gazed up at him. Her blue eyes reflected the hall light, making them glow. “Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

She pushed her honey-blond hair over her shoulder. “I like your dad. He’s a character.”

A strand of her hair stuck to her black sweater. Her hair looked so silky and soft he wanted to touch it. Instead he jammed his hands into his pockets. “Dad was in rare form tonight. He’s not normally so chatty.”

“I don’t mind chatty,” she said, her voice soft and breathless.

He met her gaze, noticing the lighter ring of blue around the darker pupils. She had pretty eyes. It had been a long time since he’d felt the pull of attraction the way he did with Sami. His pulse quickened, setting his nerves on edge.

He mentally shut down his reaction. He wasn’t looking for a personal relationship with her. Or anyone, for that matter. The last time he’d fallen for a woman, he’d ended up nursing another wound to his battered heart. Not quite as devastating as his mother’s abandonment but close enough to make him even more wary.

He took a step back. “Is Sami short for Samantha?”

She gave an imperceptible nod. “My dad calls me Sami.”

He liked the nickname, more approachable and feisty, like the woman. “It suits you.”

One corner of her mouth lifted, drawing his attention. She had nicely shaped lips. Lips made for kissing. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling as if they were standing under a heat lamp rather than the soft glow of the hallway light.

“Where’s your mom?”

Her question doused the mood like a bucket of ice in his face. What was he thinking? Kissable lips? Silky hair? Dude, get a grip.

He needed to stay focused on the objective. Keep Sami safe and find a killer. Nothing more. Nothing less. Attraction had no place in this high-stakes situation.

“That’s a discussion for another time, another day.” Or never. “Good night, Sami.”

Her head tilted to the side with curiosity and...was that disappointment? The awkward silence stretched. The need to open up tugged at him. Not going to happen. Keep this professional, he chided himself.

He cleared his throat. “Okay. Good night, then.”

The trill of his cell phone echoed through the quiet house. He pulled the device from his pocket. “Inspector Kelley.” As he listened to Blake’s news, a knot formed in his stomach. “Okay. Tomorrow we’ll follow up.” He clicked off.

“Well?”

He met Sami’s expectant gaze. “The victim was an American woman from Kansas. Melinda Watson. She was in town for a job interview.”

Anger and empathy flashed in her blue eyes. “And the credit card? Did they find out anything about the cardholder?”

The knot tightened. “Mr. Clark’s a Canadian. He owns an aviation-parts business and is married with two adult kids. His wife told officers that her husband was at a convention in Las Vegas. He had texted her to say he was extending his stay. That was five days ago. She’s heard nothing from him since but hadn’t panicked, because they were having marital problems and she was thankful for the time away from each other.”

“I’m going to Las Vegas. I could catch a flight out tonight.”

Drew held up a hand. “Slow down. The card was last used in Phoenix, Arizona, two days ago. Mr. Clark registered at a spa resort.”

She gave a sharp nod. “Then I’ll go to Arizona. Cloud Jet Airlines has reasonably priced flights.”

He marveled at her dedication. She traveled on her own dime. He shook his head. “Which may be what the killer wants you to do.”

She shrugged. “I have to catch this guy.”

“Why you?”

Pain flashed in her eyes. “He killed my best friend. I won’t stop until he’s brought to justice.”

Compassion flooded his veins. If anyone had hurt someone he cared about, he’d want to do the same thing. But he’d be cautious enough to know taking on a killer by himself wasn’t a good idea. He couldn’t let her do this alone. The killer had brought his carnage to Drew’s door—Drew planned to repay the favor and help Sami capture the man. He’d have to okay it through his boss, but if that didn’t fly, then he’d take a lesson from Sami and opt to take some vacation time. “I’m going with you.”

Her eyes widened. “I work alone.”

“Not anymore.”

She tucked in her chin and narrowed her gaze. “As much as I appreciate that you saved my bacon twice tonight, I don’t want a partner.”

“You don’t have a choice. This now involves both of our countries.” He could see the protest forming in her eyes. Before she had a chance to speak, he said, “Look, finding and capturing Birdman will go quicker and more smoothly if we combine our resources. There’s no reason for you to do this alone anymore.”

She pressed her lips together and inhaled, then slowly released her breath. “Fine. Just don’t get in my way.”

He grinned. He couldn’t deny he looked forward to catching a killer. But he also looked forward to getting to know more about Special Agent Bennett. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

The next morning, after a hurried breakfast of toast and coffee, Drew and Sami piled into Dad’s car with Dad insisting on driving them to the airport.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll let you know when I’m coming back.” Drew shut the door to his dad’s luxury sedan and watched as his father pulled away from the curb outside the terminal at the Vancouver International Airport.

Drew had had to hide his surprise at how taken Dad was with Sami. He must be mellowing in his old age. Normally his father was suspicious of women, especially ones Drew showed interest in. Something that didn’t occur often these days, because he was still smarting from Gretchen’s betrayal.

However, Drew was his father’s son, after all, and had suffered the same hurt and heartache as his dad when Colleen Kelley walked out of their lives. And again when Drew’s marriage fell apart. But his past had nothing to do with the present. His association with Sami was strictly business. He would keep things professional despite his growing interest in her.

He and Sami checked in with airport security, presenting their IDs, filling out the necessary paperwork and having their weapons inspected. Once they were cleared, they made their way to the gate, where they filed onto the Cloud Jet airplane with the rest of the passengers.

Drew wouldn’t have guessed so many people would head willingly to one of the hottest places in the summer. He wasn’t looking forward to the heat of Arizona in July.

It had taken some fancy talking on his part to convince his boss the trip was warranted. The deputy commissioner had granted him permission but wanted to be kept apprised of the situation. Not a problem, Drew had assured him. He didn’t want to jeopardize his standing with IBETs.

“That’s us,” Sami said from behind him. “Thirteen A and B.”

He moved past their row of seats so she could step in and have the window seat. She set her suitcase on the floor, then opened the overhead compartment. Before Drew could reach for the suitcase, the man coming in behind her picked up the case and tucked it into the luggage space with quick efficiency.

“There you go,” the man said with a polite smile.

“Thank you,” Sami murmured, and slipped into her seat. Drew nodded his thanks to the stranger, then settled into his seat beside Sami. His knees hit the fold-down table attached to the back of the seat in front of him.

In the cramped space, his shoulder and upper arm bumped against Sami. The little sparks each connection created unnerved him. It was hard to stay professional when she set his blood on fire. He shifted away, but short of sitting in the aisle, there was nowhere to go.

As she fiddled with her seat belt, he took in her appearance. She wore a flowery blouse and light-colored cargo pants. She carried no purse today. Her ID and gun were stashed in the deep pockets of her pants, and the knife she’d used to free herself was hidden away. Most likely in a boot. Big and clunky, they were in stark contrast to the feminine top. Yet the ensemble worked for her. Very Portlandian.

Her blond hair was held back by a barrette at the nape of her slender neck and smelled like his shampoo. He could tell she’d applied a touch of mascara to the black lashes framing her pretty eyes, and her lips shone with gloss.

She looked so different from the woman dressed like a ninja last night. However, both sides of the lady appealed to him, despite his need to stay detached emotionally. She was brave and spunky when she needed to be but didn’t flaunt those traits as if needing to prove her toughness.

He waited until after takeoff to ask, “Tell me how you became involved in this case. You said your friend was a victim?”

Her lips pressed together for a moment. She nodded. “Lisa and I were like sisters. The Westovers lived next door. Seaside isn’t a big community. At least not for those who live there year-round. Our families became close.”

“When was Lisa killed?”

“Six months ago. Her case went cold quickly.” She told him in graphic detail how similar Lisa’s murder was to the crime scene from last night. “Birdman is clever and knows how to not leave behind trace evidence.”

“Except for bird drawings and writing on the wall,” he remarked drily.

“Done without leaving fibers or DNA.”

“How did you connect this Birdman to Lisa’s murder?”

She frowned. “I didn’t at first. I searched for similar crimes in the metro Portland area and came up empty. Then I spread out from there via the FBI’s ViCAP.”

The Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, a searchable database to collect and analyze crime, was the model that the Canadian government followed for their own version, ViCLAS—Violent Crime Linkage System. Both automated systems were invaluable to IBETs and all law enforcement in both countries. “We have something similar.”

She gripped the armrests as the plane bounced through turbulence. “I found comparable crimes across the US but never in the same city. By then my boss realized what I was doing and wasn’t pleased, despite the fact I was investigating on my own time.”

She shrugged. “There wasn’t much he could say, though. He definitely wasn’t okay with me leaving Portland to investigate crimes outside our field office assignments. But I couldn’t stop. I had to know. I had to see if there were any connections to Lisa’s murder.”

“So this trip to Vancouver...?”

“Technically I’m on vacation. The special agent in charge has given me some rope.” Her mouth tipped up at the corners. “Probably enough to hang myself with.”

Not if he could help it. She’d been targeted twice now. She obviously wasn’t safe alone. Not that he saw her as a damsel in distress. Far from it. She’d shown bravery and smarts. And the drive to do what was necessary to stop a criminal. “Your dedication is admirable.”

“Thanks.” She shrugged. “I made a promise to Lisa’s parents that I’d find her killer. I always keep my promises.”

The flight attendant stopped to offer them drinks and the opportunity to purchase a snack from the cart.

They each ordered a drink and a snack plate of fruit, cheese and nuts. While the attendant poured their drinks and handed over their plates, Drew contemplated Sami’s statement.

Did she truly honor her promises? Or were her words just that—words?

Gretchen had made promises to love and honor and cherish him. But she’d broken those promises so easily. Drew was wary of any woman’s promises.

Once the flight attendant had moved on and they’d opened their refreshments, he said, “I don’t know many people who would go to such lengths to pursue justice for their friend.”

“I don’t know many people who would leave their country to help a stranger pursue justice for her friend.”

He mirrored her earlier shrug and collected a small handful of cashews and almonds. “It became my business when we discovered the man we’re going to see is Canadian.”

Not to mention, Drew had decided to take it upon himself to be Sami’s protector. Twice now she could have been killed. Silently he vowed he wasn’t going to let that happen. The woman needed help whether she wanted it or not.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she said, her tone intense.

He gave her a half smile. “Careful is my middle name.”

He popped a chunk of cheese and an apple slice into his mouth.

“I’m serious. I have enough to contend with bringing down Birdman. I don’t need you being a hotshot and taking unnecessary chances.”

“Where’s this anxious fretting coming from? I’ll be careful.”

She breathed in and slowly exhaled. “Sorry. I haven’t worked with a partner on this.” She dropped her gaze and concentrated on her food.

“I see.” She was a lone wolf taking down a predator. But not anymore. “Tell me about the bird symbol.”

She visibly collected herself, took a drink of her pop. “When I was digging through the various case files I noticed bagged evidence that was incongruent with the crime scenes. Things that had appeared irrelevant or unimportant at the time. No fingerprints, no DNA showed up, so the clues lay dormant in musty files of cold cases. A playing card here. A postcard there.”

She drummed her fingers on her knee. “At Lisa’s murder scene a business card was found tucked into her handbag. Nothing unusual about that, since she was in sales. Which was why she was staying at the hotel by the airport the night she was killed. She had an early morning flight.” Sami’s voice broke. “I would have driven her in the morning if she’d only asked.”

He covered her hand with his, stilling the nervous drumming. She turned her hand over so their palms met. Her fingers laced through his. He refused to read anything romantic in the gesture. Talking about her friend upset her. He was merely offering the only comfort he could. Holding her hand meant nothing, even if her small hand fit snugly within his as if they were made for each other.

“There was a little stamp on the back corner of the business card,” she continued, apparently unaware of the turmoil going on inside him. “I didn’t think much of it at first. But then I noticed the bird on other pieces of evidence and realized he was leaving his signature.”

Keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the other passengers, he said, “And all the women were strangled, and then their bodies were mutilated.”

“Yes.” She lowered her voice, as well. “He used his hands to crush their larynxes and then desecrated them. He never uses the same knife. Different styles of cutting instruments. No discernible pattern. But there’s one thing all the deaths do have in common. The women met their attacker at a hotel or airport bar and restaurant.”

“Sexual assault?”

“No. There’s no apparent motive for the deaths that I can tell. Only the killer knows what drives him.”

“And you’re sure it’s a male perpetrator?”

“Yes.”

“He was caught on camera?”

She gave a mirthless laugh. “Not in any discernible way. He’s too savvy for that. Knows where surveillance cameras are located or, like at my hotel, knocks out the system. He never looks the same in what footage I do have. And witness statements run the gamut of short and round to tall and muscular. Blond, dark, ginger. Large nose, crooked nose. Eye color is all over the board.”

“So it could be a woman in disguise.”

Her keen eyes lit up with a hint of success. “The one thing he didn’t think to hide was his hands. Big knuckles, strong hands.” She lifted their joined hands between them. “A man’s hands.”

The guy who’d been in her hotel room had had on black gloves. “But if he didn’t hide his hands then, why were there no prints?”

Her lip curled. “That’s the million-dollar question.” She shrugged. “I have a few theories. He could have worn thin flesh-colored gloves. He could have dipped his hand in sealant or glue, for that matter.” The frustration in her voice was unmistakable.

She extracted her hand from his and turned to stare at the passing clouds outside the window. She was something special, this FBI special agent. He’d never met anyone like her. Courageous and assertive, yet he’d caught glimpses of vulnerability.

Funny how life turned out sometimes. God’s sense of humor at work?

Drew had been content with his life after the turmoil of his divorce. He’d made inspector by thirty. He’d been asked to join and then lead an IBETs team. He shared a bachelor pad with his dad and had no plans to change that anytime soon.

He hadn’t been looking for a cause or a partner, yet here he was flying south over the United States with a woman on a mission—to stop a serial killer before he struck again.

And Drew couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

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