LITTLE WAS LEFT of the quiet house on the cul-de-sac. As dawn rose the next morning, Samantha stared at the charred skeleton that remained of the home. Ashes drifted in the breeze.
The fire had been very, very thorough. The arson investigator had already told her he believed several explosive devices had been syst
ematically placed throughout the structure for maximum impact.
Their arsonist—a fingerprint check had revealed her real name to be Nina Miller—had been very, very deliberate. She’d wanted to make certain that no evidence had survived the blast.
And she’d nearly made sure that Blake and I didn’t survive, either.
But in the end, they’d made it out.
As she stood there, a Mercedes-Benz slowly pulled around the cul-de-sac. She stiffened because she knew that car. It parked behind her smaller vehicle and, a moment later, Cameron unfolded himself from the luxury sedan and headed toward her.
“Went by your apartment.” He had a bag of donuts in his hand. “When you didn’t answer the door, I figured you’d be here.” He opened the bag and offered her a donut.
She took it. Was it odd to eat donuts at such a terrible scene? Maybe. But her starving stomach reminded her she couldn’t exactly remember the last time she’d eaten.
Cameron leaned back against her car. His gaze was on the charred structure. “Cut that one pretty close, didn’t you, Sam?”
She had to swallow twice before she could force down the bite of donut. “Closer than I would have liked.”
He was still looking at the ashes. “I wouldn’t have liked it if you died.”
His words surprised a quick laugh from her. “Jeez, I don’t think I would have liked it much, either.”
Slowly, his head turned and his gaze met hers. There was no humor in his eyes. “The world would be darker without you in it.”
That just might have been one of the nicest things he’d ever said to her. “Thank you.” Cameron could be arrogant. He could be domineering. But...
He was also a friend, one who knew all of her secrets and still didn’t stare at her as if she were a freak.
And, even better, he didn’t stare at her with pity in his eyes.
“What happened to your hands?” he asked.
She looked at the bandages that covered some of her fingers. “Blake was on fire when he came out.”
He caught her left hand. His lips pulled down. “And you hurt yourself helping him.”
“He’s my partner.”
His fingers slid over her wrist, a nearly careless caress. Only, she knew Cameron never made any moves that were actually careless. With Cameron, everything was always carefully planned.
“If someone is going to get hurt,” Cameron finally said, “how about next time we let it be him?”
She pulled her hand away from his. “How about there’s no next time...and no one gets hurt?”
“Don’t think that will happen.” He shook his head. “Your line of work seems particularly dangerous.”
Yes, it was.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
She made herself take another bite of the donut. Then she had to ask him, “Are you...okay, being here?” Because she knew about his past. The fire. The death. Ash drifted in the wind and it had to remind him of the darkness in his life.
The darkness that had changed everything for him.
“You’re with me.” His head turned toward her. “I’ve found that I’m often better when you’re near.”
Her smile came again. “You know, sometimes, you can really be charming.” And a good friend. She could use a friend.
They sat in silence for a moment, then he asked, “So what’s the woman’s story? You figured her out yet?”
“She has knife scars all over her body,” Samantha said. “They were discovered when she was booked.”
“Self-inflicted?” He immediately asked. “Or...?”
“Based on the angles, particularly the wounds on her arms, no, I don’t think they were self-inflicted. But I do believe she willingly received those cuts.”
“You think George gave them to her?”
Samantha nodded. “I think she asked him to, and I think she also asked him to start hurting the other women. She came to the house because she wanted to destroy evidence.”
He gave a low whistle. “Evidence that might have implicated her?”
“That’s what I believe.” She rolled back her shoulders. “But then Blake and I appeared, and her rage took over. It wasn’t just about getting rid of the evidence then.”
“It was about getting rid of you.”
Yes, that was what Samantha believed. “She wanted us to pay for George’s death.” And they almost had paid. The explosion wouldn’t have just destroyed evidence. It would have killed them.
His stare focused on the burned porch frame. “Pity nothing is left for you.”
“She doesn’t know nothing is left.”
He laughed. “Ah, Sam, you have such a fun mind. I love it when you go all twisted on me.” He pushed away from the car. “Going to lie to your prey, are you? Brilliant. Just brilliant.”
“I’m going to lock away a killer,” Samantha corrected. “Because that’s what I do.”
The wind blew against her face, tossing her hair over her cheek. His hand lifted and he brushed that lock aside. “Yes, I guess it is.”
She moved away from Cameron. His touch didn’t feel natural to her any longer. No...it just...
He isn’t Blake. That wasn’t Cameron’s problem. It was hers. She’d deal with it, the way she dealt with all her problems.
“A serial-killing team,” he murmured. “Such an interesting element. I would love to interview her. I bet she’d make for a fantastic paper topic.”
“Maybe you’ll get the chance.” Her phone vibrated in her pocket, signaling she’d just received a text. “If they want any outside experts brought in, I’m sure you’ll be the first on the list.”
He always was.
She looked down at her phone. “I need to head down to the Bureau. Bass wants me to start the interrogation on Nina in an hour.”
“Because you’ve been cleared. A justifiable shooting. Never had any doubt.”
She glanced up at him. “Justifiable or not...” Her voice lowered. “It still gives me nightmares. It made me remember...too much.” The shadows that were in her own mind. The ones she worked to keep so carefully in check.
His stare turned solemn. “You know you can talk to me. I don’t judge you, Samantha. No matter what, I will never judge you.”
She knew that. But... I can’t say the same for Blake. If he learns all my secrets, what will he do? Things would have been so much easier if she could have just loved Cameron. “I need to go,” she said again. “Thanks for the donuts.”
She reached for the door handle.
But his fingers curled over hers. “It’s natural to feel guilt after taking a life.”
Yes, she got that. A normal, human reaction. That doesn’t make it any easier.
His breath whispered over her cheek. “What else do you feel?”
Her gaze cut toward him. There were some things that she couldn’t say, not even to Cameron.
But...
In his stare, she swore that...he knew.
“There was a rush, wasn’t there, Samantha?” he asked. “When you pulled that trigger... When you stopped that very, very bad man... You felt a surge of power, didn’t you? He wasn’t in control any longer. You were.”
Yes, she’d been in control.
“If you want to talk, I hope you know my door is always open to you.”
She did know that. She also knew she didn’t want to explore the darkness of her own feelings, not then. She understood killers.
Anyone had the potential to kill, under the right circumstances.
But liking the kill? That wasn’t something just anyone would experience. “Thank you, Cameron.”
He backed away. Samantha slid into her car and, a few moments later, she was driving away from the cul-de-sac.
She glanced in her rearview mirror.
Cameron stood in front of the burned house.
It’s just a house, on a street. Just a house...
* * *
CAMERON WATCHED SAMANTHA drive away. He had no doubt that she’d get
a confession. After all, Samantha was very good at her job.
Very, very good.
But he was worried about her. This had been her first kill as an agent and the shooting had stirred up her memories. She couldn’t keep her feelings bottled up. She needed to talk and to share.
She needs to tell me all the dark details.
He’d always known that Samantha Dark was like her name. She wasn’t meant for a normal life, that fake life of smiles and perfect days. There was more inside of her, a twisting, snaking dark, an understanding, even a need to explore the tainted side of life.
She hunted killers because her mind understood their motivations far too well. But on this case, she’d crossed a line. Not just thinking like a killer but finally...
Becoming one.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAMANTHA SCHOOLED HER features before she opened the interrogation room door. She went inside with her spine straight and her shoulders squared. Her heels clicked on the floor.
Blake was already seated at the little table, his poise relaxed. Across from him, Nina Miller sat, a faint smile curving her lips.
Samantha smiled back at her.
For an instant, she saw Nina’s eyelids flicker. But then a mask seemed to fall over the other woman’s face. “Why so late to this little party, agent?”
“Because I had to stop by George’s place and pick up a few things.”
Nina smirked. “I don’t see anything...”
Samantha laughed as she slid into the chair next to Blake. “Of course, you don’t. Evidence has to be logged. Analyzed. Studied ever so carefully.”
“Why would anyone want to study ashes?” Nina asked. “Seems like a waste of time to me.”
Blake leaned forward. “We have you on the arson, Ms. Miller. Arson and the attempted murder of two federal agents.”
Nina put her cuffed hands on the table. “How did I know you two were going to be there? I certainly didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” She blinked her eyes, appearing confused. “I mean... I just knew what a terrible, terrible man George Farris was...so I went to his house trying to banish that evil.” Her cuffed hands rose and she pressed her fingers to her temple. “I feel so...lost. I—I think something broke in me when I saw that news story.” Her hands fell back to the table and she turned her wrists toward her, staring at all the slash marks on her skin. “It reminded me of my past.”