Page 95 of Darkness of Mine

RIVER

I’ve always had a habit of bringing my work home with me but even I can admit this is taking things to the next level. Every shred of information we have on Zach is laid out across the living room.

Papers coat the coffee table like an extra layer of varnish, surveillance images are stuck to the TV screen, and the floor is stacked with files outlining every detail of Zach’s life.

I stare at the large map tacked up on the wall with markers triangulating the abduction sites, the shops Zach visited and the three counties to which the echinacea laevigatais native.

I checked with Millie’s parents, and she hadn’t visited any of those counties prior to going missing so the chances are Zach took Millie to one of them. A big red circle outlines the possible radius but it’s far too large an area.

Now Zach knows we’re tracing his bank card we’ve lost the advantage, and we’ve spent the last two days scrambling to get it back. We even roped in Luke to help and the six of us have been sifting through all the data we have, going over and over the profile we’ve built in an effort to find Harley.

Zach’s had her for over two weeks now. If he follows the same timeline as with Millie, then she’s only got four days left.

We’re running out of time.

I close my eyes, having to make a conscious effort to hold tight to the threads of my control. Ever since I crossed the line with Freya, I’ve been so damn careful to not let that control slip again. I got too close to the edge and my punishment is waking up every day and having to live with the knowledge that I hurt the most important person in my life. I refuse to let it happen again.

The law exists for a reason but I’m all too aware that working inside the lines isn’t getting us anywhere.

I close the file I’ve been reading and glance over at Oz. “What about the van? Have we had any hits?”

Oz shakes his head. “A few, but nothing that leads anywhere.”

I grind my molars together. A single, partial image of a blue van, taken from a security camera across the street from the furniture shop, is the best lead we’ve got. If we could trace it, we might find Zach. But the image is blurred at best, and it doesn’t show the license plate.

Frustration darkens my mood and my gaze drifts to Freya. Something loosens inside of me seeing her there, sitting cross-legged on the couch, her brow pinched in concentration. I count the freckles on the bridge of her nose and remind myself that she’s safe, that we won’t let anything touch her.

A folder lies open across her lap, but she’s given up on reading it, her gaze lost in space as she turns the chess piece Zach had Allie deliver over and over in her fingers.

“Freya,” I say, the hairs on my arms spiking as I recognize that look. “What is it?”

She grimaces before placing the black queen on the coffee table. “We need to do something different. Zach spent yearsworking for the FBI, he knows all of our steps. We need to stop thinking like profilers. It’s not enough.”

Jude looks up at her from where he’s sitting on the floor. Black bags hang under his eyes, and he should be resting but he won’t. Not until we’ve found Harley. He shoves the psychology book he’s been reading aside. “This clearly isn’t working, so I’m game. Any ideas?”

Freya’s eyes dart to me before she answers. “We need to draw him out.”

“No.” I pin my gaze on her, knowing exactly where her thoughts are going. “We’re not using you as bait.”

“Our profile of Zach, of why he’s doing what he’s doing, it all comes back to me,” she says, perfectly calm while a storm is brewing inside of me. “He named himself the Little Star Catcher. His victims look like I did. Allie said he kept calling her Annie.”

My grip on the armchair tightens. “I mean it Freya, we’re not using you as bait.”

“Maybe we don’t have to.” Freya’s gaze settles on the chess piece. “There’s two of me.”

“You want to trick him,” Jude says.

Freya glances my way, the wariness in her gaze telling me I’m not going to like what she says next. “I want to con him.”

“No.” The response leaves me on reflex.

“River…”

I stand up and straighten my cuffs. “We do this by the book. Find another way.”

I don’t want to argue with her, so I leave the living room and head to my office.

Even just thinking about pulling a con has my childhood dragging me back kicking and screaming. I vowed I would never be like my parents. It’s why I hold myself to such rigid standards, why I became an FBI agent. For my whole adult life I have operated on the right side of the law. Until Freya.