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CHAPTER ONE
THE SCENE WAS all wrong
The killer—the balding man in his late thirties—the un held in his tre
FBI Special Agent Samantha Dark raised her weapon even as she shook her head She’d profiled this killer, studied every detail of his crime spree And
This is wrong
“Drop the gun!” That bellow came from her partner, Blake Gamble He was at her side, his weapon drawn, too, and she knew all of his focus was locked on the killer
They’d come to this house just to ask Allan March some follow-up questions He’d been one of the custodians at Georgetown University, a university that had recently becorounds for a killer
At Blake’s shout, Allan jerked And when he jerked, his finger squeezed the trigger of the gun he held The shot ide,both Samantha and Blake She didn’t return fire Allan doesn’t fit the profile This is all wrong—
Blake returned fire The bullet sla wound, not even close Blood bloo the stark white shirt that Allan wore Allan should have dropped his gun in response to that hit, but he didn’t He screaun—
Not at Blake, but at me
“Has to be you” Allan whispered “Saidhas to be you”
She didn’t let any fear show, even as the eun” Blake’s order had been bellowed, but hers was given softly Alun down, Allan I don’t want to shoot you This isn’t the way I want things to end
The FBI had been searching for the Georgetown University killer forthe trail left by the bastard—a trail of blood and bodies But the trail shouldn’t have led here
Allan March was a er His wife had passed ao years ago, slowly dying of cancer He’d been at her bedside every single moment All of the data that the FBI had collected on Allan indicated that he was a dedicated faiver Not—
A serial killer
“I’m sorry,” Allan whispered
And Sa to do Even as those tears poured down his cheeks, she knew
“No!” Samantha screamed
But it was too late Allan pointed the gun right at his own face and pulled the trigger The thunder of the gunfire echoed around the to land right next to the dead body of Ae student who’d beenfor three days
“Fucking hell,” Blake muttered
This is wrong
Samantha rushed toward the downed man Her weapon was still in her hand Her eyes were on Allan On as left of his face Dear God
“THE PRESS IS ripping us apart, Salared at her as they stood inside the s superstar—a profiler who could do no wrong But your profile was shit You had us looking for afor the killer you said was out there!”
Saht, as Justin Bass berated her Spittle was flying froe
The executive assistant director was far uy had a teoing back
Justin didn’t like to look bad He liked to be the agent in charge, the loried in the attention he got when his teauy
“Da in his rounded jaw “Do you have anything to say?”
Did she? Saht? When every single piece of evidence said just horong she’d been?
“Take it easy, Bass” Blake spoke
on her behalf He was at her side, sending her a sylance “What matters is that the Sorority Slasher has been stopped”
The Sorority Slasher Sa frolarisly killer
“We’re the fucking FBI,” Justin said, stopping to slap his hands down on his desk “We can’t afford to make mistakes”
Her te She knew exactly who they were
“Someone has to take the fall for this one Three wo, Samantha The superstar froe the face of profiling FBI brass shoved you down ”
She made her jaw unclench
“You’re taking the fall for this one” Justin nodded curtly toward her “Consider yourself on suspension”
Samantha almost took a step back Her lips parted—
Don’t take the job from me
“What?” Blake was the one who’d given that shocked cry It was Blake who sounded furious as he snapped, “You can’t do that! Samantha is the best—”
“Yeah, right, you think I don’t know about the hard-on you have for her, Agent Gaht back “You two never should have been partners So take so ship, and you don’t want to go doith her”
Her boss was a bastard Lots of ant assholes Blake? No, he was a good guy, and that hy she respected him so much
“Leave your weapon here,” Justin ordered her “And your badge”
She unsnapped her holster, walked slowly toward his desk
My profile was right I knoas
She put her gun on his desk, but when she reached for her FBI badge and ID, Samantha hesitated
“You knoe found pictures of all the victims at his place” Justin’s voice was flat “Souvenirs that he kept”
“Trophies” It was the first thing she’d said since co into his office “Not souvenirs, they’re trophies” Serial killers often kept them so that they could relive their crimes
“Shoved in the back of his closet, under the guy’s winter boots” Justin shook his head “Dropped like they didn’tfor a cold, methodical killer One anted to push boundaries and study the pain of his victims One anted to see just hoell enius Fuck h school!”
And that was just one of the
Her fingers had clenched around her ID “Did you ever think” Her voice was too soft, but it was either speak softly or scream “Did you consider that maybe Allan had been set up?”
Justin’s hands flew up into the air in a gesture of obvious frustration “He shot himself! Killed his damn fool self when he blew off half his head! If that doesn’t say guilty, then what the hell does?”
Her dru heartbeat was too loud “He could have killed hi at her He’d lost his life savings battling his wife’s cancer Extreme financial hardship? Hell, yes, that could lead people to suicide It could—