Roland had paged her and she’d called him from the room phone. He wasn’t thrilled about her having turned off her cell but agreed that her plan had some merit. Meanwhile they had set up a meeting with the Pakistani, Salman, in Houston. This evening. Removing Kevin from the game by pulling him out of Slater’s reach might have been the best way to stall the killer until her return tomorrow. But she hadn’t considered the possibility that Kevin would disappear. Now she was due to catch a flight in a few hours, and Kevin was gone. Jennifer Peters would be burning up the phone lines by now, trying to find them, but Sam couldn’t bring herself to tip her hand—not yet. Something about the whole investigation bothered her, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. Something wasn’t right.

She reviewed the facts as she knew them.

One. Someone, probably a white male, had terrorized Sacramento over the last twelve months by selecting seemingly random victims, giving them a riddle to solve, and then killing them when they failed. He’d been dubbed the Riddle Killer by the media and the name had stuck with law enforcement. Jennifer’s brother, Roy, had been his last victim.

Two. She had opened an undercover CBI investigation under the premise that the killer had or was an inside man. Nothing indicated that the killer knew of her investigation.

Three. Someone with almost the same MO as the Riddle Killer was now stalking both Kevin and her in a game of riddles.

Four. A concrete connection had been established between this same killer and a boy who’d threatened both her and Kevin twenty years earlier.

On the surface, it all made perfect sense: A boy named Slater takes to torturing animals and terrorizing other children. He’s nearly killed by one of those children, Kevin, when Kevin locks him in a cellar to protect a young girl Slater intends to harm. But Slater escapes the cellar and grows up to become one of society’s worst nightmares—a man void of conscience with a lust for blood. Now, twenty years later, Slater learns that the two children who tormented him so long ago are alive. He stalks them and devises a game to deal with both in one fell swoop. Obvious, right?

No. Not in Sam’s mind. For starters, why had Slater waited so long to go after both her and Kevin? Did the small incident in the cellar just skip his mind for twenty years? And what was the likelihood that she, employed by the CBI, just happened to be assigned to a case involving the same person who tried to kill her twenty years ago?

And now, in the eleventh hour, this new lead from Sacramento— someone in Houston who claimed to know Slater. Or more accurately, the Riddle Killer. If she was right, they were all barking up the wrong tree.

Sam glanced at her watch. Two-thirty and still nothing. She had a plane to catch for Dallas at five. “Come on, Kevin. You’re forcing my hand here.”

She sighed and picked up her cell phone. She reluctantly switched it on and dialed Jennifer Peters’s number.

“Peters.”

“Hello, Agent Peters. Samantha Sheer—”

“Samantha! Where are you? Kevin’s gone. We’ve been trying to track him down all morning.”

“Slow down. I know Kevin’s gone. He’s with me. Or was with me, I should say.”

“With you?This isn’t your investigation. You have no right this side of hell to act without our approval! You trying to get him killed?”

Wrong, Jennifer, I don’t need your approval.“Don’t insult me.”

“Do you have any idea how crazy things are down here? The media’s gotten wind, presumably through that deadhead Milton, that Kevin’s disappeared, and they’re already suggesting Slater kidnapped him. They’ve got cameras on rooftops, waiting for the next bomb, for heaven’s sake! A killer’s loose out there, and the only man who may be able to lead us to him has gone AWOL. Why didn’t you call? Where is he now?”

“Take a breath, Jennifer. I have called, against my better judgment. I’ve put in a request to share what we know with you, but only you, do you understand? What I share with you, no one else hears. Not Milton, not the FBI, no one.”

“Put in a request with whom?”

“With the attorney general. We’ve been working this case from a new angle, you might say. Now you know, but no one else does.”

Silence.

“Agreed?”

“I swear, the way these bureaucracies work, you’d think we still lived in caves. I’ve been busting my butt for a year on this case, and now I learn that some crackpot agency is doing an end run? Do you have any information that might be useful, or is that a secret too?”

“We have reason to suspect an inside link.”

“Inside. As in law enforcement?”

“Maybe. We would have shared files a long time ago if we didn’t suspect that someone inside may be tracking with Slater.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we’re not sure who we can trust. For reasons I can’t go into today, I don’t think Slater is who you think he is.”

“You mean the boy? Idon’t even know who I think he is!”

“That’s not what I mean. He probably is the boy. But who’s the boy?”

“You tell us. He threatened you, didn’t he?”

“That was a long time ago, and we have no ID. For all we know, he’s the director of the FBI now.”

“Please, don’t patronize me.”

“You’re right. He’s not the director of the FBI. All I’m saying is that we can’t eliminate the possibility that he’s someone on the inside. I’ll know more tomorrow.”

“This is ridiculous. Where are you now?”

Sam paused. She had no choice now. Withholding information from Jennifer would only hamper her investigation at this point. She needed the FBI to focus on their own investigation, not meddle in hers. And there was this little fact that Kevin was missing.

She explained her rationale for taking Kevin, and Jennifer listened patiently, interrupting occasionally with pointed questions. Sam’s reasoning finally won her a grunt of approval. The news of Kevin’s disappearance didn’t.

“So as far as we know, Slater does have him,” Jennifer said.

“I doubt it. But it does look like I’ve made a mistake. I didn’t expect this.”

Jennifer let the apology go, which from Sam was as good as an acceptance. The FBI agent sighed.

“Let’s hope he comes in. Soon. How well did you know him when he was a boy?”

“We were close. I didn’t have a better friend.”

“I visited his aunt’s house this morning.”

Sam sat on the bed. How much did Jennifer know? Kevin had never shared the details of his life in the house with Sam, but she knew much more than he suspected.

“I never did see the inside of the house,” Sam said. “His aunt wouldn’t allow it. It was hard enough sneaking around the way we did.”

“Was there abuse?”

“Physical, no. Not that I saw. But in my book Kevin suffered severe, systematic psychological abuse from the day he entered that twisted house. You talked to Balinda?”

“Yes. She’s created a sanctuary for herself in there. The only realities that make it past the cutting floor are the ones she decides are real. God only knows what the house was like twenty years ago. Manipulation of a child’s learning process isn’t unheard of—it’s even broadly accepted in some arenas. Military school comes to mind. But I’ve never heard of anything like Balinda’s little kingdom. Judging by Kevin’s reaction to the place, I would tend to agree. He suffered abuse in that house.”

Sam let the phone line remain silent for a while.

“Be careful, Jennifer. This is a case about a hurting man as much as it is a hunt for a killer.”

Jennifer hesitated. “Meaning?”

“There’s more. There are secrets behind the walls of that house.”

“Secrets he hasn’t shared with you, his childhood sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

By the sound of Jennifer’s breathing, Sam knew she felt uncomfortable with the tone of the conversation. She decided to expand the agent’s mind a little.