“You let strangers into the house while Dad was in prison. Men who fucked you and gave you money. You’re the whore, Mama.”

She tried to slap him with her free hand, but he caught her other wrist easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brandon.”

“You betrayed Daddy.”

“I loved your father. You know that! I was the only one who defended him. Let me go!”

He shook his head slowly, back and forth. “You lied about the whores. You lied about Daddy. You’re just like them. You’re a slut and you’re going to get what’s coming to you.”

The fear and knowledge grew in her eyes. She rushed at him and fought him, but he was stronger.

She sucked in a breath to scream.

His hands came around her neck and he slammed her body into the wall. She couldn’t move. She clawed at him with her hands. He squeezed. Tighter. Harder. She kicked, trying to catch her breath. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t talk. Her head grew light, her eyes saw nothing but darkness. Her lungs shrank, failing to draw in air.

Brandon tightened the hold on his mother, watching her face turn bluish, as her arms and legs stopped moving. A bone cracked beneath his hands.

“One. Two. Three. Four.” He counted. How long would it take for the old bitch to die?

It took just over three minutes. It didn’t seem very long, so Brandon held on another minute, just in case.

When he let go, his mother’s body fell onto the floor with a heavy thud. He would take care of it later.

Elizabeth. She was waiting for his help. She needed him.

Leah. She lay there, frozen. He poked at her, to make sure she didn’t betray him by dying like Jodi. She jerked at his touch. Good, she was still alive.

He just had to put Elizabeth off for another few minutes.

Scout? Are you there? If you can’t help, I understand. I know you’re busy and everything.

He quickly typed.

I’m here. I just had to take care of something. I can help you demonstrate the theorem.

He typed out a simple explanation, then waited.

Thank you so much! This is great. Hold on, I need to check the test guidelines and make sure I didn’t forget something. Can you wait a second?

He could wait.

Sure.

He had plenty of things to do to occupy his time.

Brandon turned to Leah. He was still high from killing his mother. Free, liberated. He’d finally avenged his father.

Maybe now his dad would come home.

Leah squirmed on the bed.

Brandon packed up his laptop and grabbed an emergency overnight bag he’d had prepared for months. He needed money, but he knew exactly where to go for that. He had the combination to the Sand Shack safe, and he knew for a fact that Kyle never made a deposit on Saturday nights because he went out with Maggie after work.

“Good-bye, Leah.”

He pulled a garbage bag from his nightstand drawer and pulled it over her head. She bucked as he tied it around her neck.

“I wish I could stay and watch, but I have to go.”

Carina turned onto Burns’s street and saw a white Taurus round the corner up ahead.

“That looks like Brandon’s car,” Carina said and started to go after it.

A black Camaro was in the driveway of the house.

“The Camaro is my mother’s,” Kyle said flatly from the backseat.

“Drop me here,” Nick demanded. “Leah could still be in the house.”

Carina didn’t want to leave Nick alone-backup was still three minutes out, but she had to follow the Taurus in case it was Brandon Burns. She stopped the car and Nick opened the door to get out.

“Be careful, Sheriff.”

“You too, Detective.” He was already moving toward the house as Carina did a one-eighty and regained Burns’s tail.

Gun drawn, Nick ran up to the Burns property. He looked left, right. Up, down. The side door was ajar. Quiet. The last time he’d investigated a house that was supposedly vacant, he’d been attacked.

He hadn’t been expecting it then. This time, he was on full alert. He wouldn’t be caught unaware again.

Cautiously, he entered.

The house was dim. He was in the kitchen. A suitcase was next to the rear door. “Police! Stay where you are!” He announced his presence. No answer. No sound at all.

He moved quickly through the house, eyes moving to every potential hiding place.

Lying on the floor in the rear hallway was a blue-faced woman in her late forties. Her neck was bruised, her eyes had hemorrhaged, her tongue was out. Regina Burns was dead.

Nick looked in the room across from the body and saw a naked woman tied spread-eagle on the bed, a garbage bag tied around her head.

“No.” Nick holstered his gun and ripped the bag with both hands. He stared at Leah Peterson. Her eyes were closed, her mouth glued shut. He felt for her pulse. Nothing. How long? She was warm, soft. She couldn’t be dead.

“Dammit, no!” He couldn’t be too late.

A faint heartbeat.

He had to do it. If there was a chance she was alive, he had to try.

Nick ripped the gag off the girl’s mouth and pried open her bloody lips. He breathed air hard into her lungs, waited, filled her lungs again. Again.

Under his watch as sheriff, the Butcher had killed three women. He hadn’t found them in time to save them. And since he’d arrived in San Diego, three more women had died horribly. Leah couldn’t die on him. He would not allow it.

Breathe. He willed her to come back.

He heard movement and voices from the front of the house.

“Police!” he shouted. “I need medics, stat!”

Nick focused on watching the girl’s chest. Breathe, Leah, breathe. Please.

He continued forcing air into her lungs. His mind became blank, every molecule in his being focused on bringing Leah back.

Suddenly, she sucked in a deep breath of air and her eyes opened wide, full of terror. She started thrashing on the bed.

Nick pulled out his pocketknife and cut the ropes. His heart pounded as rapidly as hers. “It’s okay, Leah. It’s okay.”

He found a blanket in the corner of the room and held her close while waiting for the medics. Nick wasn’t a religious man, but he closed his eyes and thanked whatever supreme being was out there. Thanked the universe for not letting evil win this battle.

“It’s all right. It’s all right,” he whispered as he rocked her in his arms. “You’re safe.”

Leah began to cry.

THIRTY-THREE

CARINA KEPT SEVERAL CAR LENGTHS behind the Taurus. As soon as he stopped at a light, she confirmed that the driver was in fact Brandon Burns.

“Why don’t you pull him over?” Kyle said, anxious.

She considered it, torn. What if Leah Peterson was in the trunk? If she was, she was most likely dead, but what if she wasn’t dead? What if he hadn’t had time to finish whatever sick plan he had for her? What if she were still unconscious in the back of the car, knocked out from drugs or a blow to the back of the head?

“He might have a hostage, I can’t take the chance.” Not until she heard from Nick that Leah was at the house. Dead or alive.

In addition, there was no guarantee that Brandon would pull over. If he felt threatened, he could run, speeding through residential neighborhoods causing injury to innocent people. She didn’t want to endanger civilians with a high-speed chase. Criminals with nothing to lose were the most dangerous, and Brandon Burns was already destined for a life in prison.

Better to take it slow until she had backup.

Brandon drove at just the speed limit and eventually turned onto a major thoroughfare headed toward La Jolla. She continued to keep her distance to give him a false sense of security that he was making a clean getaway. Find out where he was going and trap him.