Page 136 of Girl Betrayed

“You’re kidding me,” Jake muttered.Would this never end?

“I wish I were. Hartwell filled you in on the notes we found in Max Durnin’s stolen news van?”

“Briefly.”

“Well, it got me thinking. I went back to Dvita’s house, and we found the mother lode.”

“I don’t understand,” Jake said. “Hartwell came here telling us Claire was the Reaper.”

“Not just Claire. All of them. You have to see it to believe it. How soon can you get back to the city? We need Dr. Gray’s expertise.”

Jake glanced back at Dana. “Richter, she’s in no shape to assist with an investigation right now. She just watched her best friend die, while her colleague held her at gunpoint.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t dire,” Richter explained. “I’ll send you some photos so you can see what I mean.”

Jake exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, but I’m not making any promises. Right now, I’m focused on wrapping up this crime scene and getting Dana home.”

“No,” Richter said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You can’t bring her home.”

“What? Why not?”

“Jake, just look at the photos.”

121

“Are you sure?”Jake asked again. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

Dana kept her eyes trained on the road ahead. “When are you ever ready to find out how deeply you’ve been betrayed?”

Jake pulled up in front of Dvita’s house, finding a spot on the street among the other police and federal vehicles. He shut off the engine and turned to her. “Look at me.”

She did.

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Whatever BAU found inside, it’ll still be there tomorrow. We can go home, get some rest, and come back with clear eyes.”

“I can’t go home.”

“My home,” he corrected, reaching over the console to take her hand. “It’s yours for however long you need.”

She pulled out of his grasp and opened the car door, muttering, “I just want to get this over with.”

Jake followed Dana into Dvita’s house. It was swarming with agents, officers, and forensics. Richter greeted them at the entrance to the large home office. “This way,” he said, ushering them toward the wall of built-in shelves lined with an inordinateamount of leather-bound books. It reminded Jake of a law library.

Richter walked ahead of them, removing a book, and pushing a button behind it. Jake heard a click and watched the bookshelf creak open, revealing a hidden room behind it.

“Christ,” Jake muttered. The room was straight out of a horror movie. The walls lined with pages of love letters, newspaper clippings, drawings of the Grim Reaper, Latin phrases, and photographs, all of the same woman. The only thing missing was the anarchy symbol and a sacrificial altar to the devil.

Jake had seen some strange things in his day, but this might top it all.

“Who is she?” Dana asked, pointing to the dark haired girl in all the photographs.

“Annabelle Sorkin. She drowned ten years ago while sailing on the Chester River. It was ruled an accident, but her family maintains it was a suicide. She was undergoing hypnotherapy for depression at the time.”

“Let me guess,” Jake said. “Dvita was her therapist.”

“Bingo.”

Dana moved past Jake to the shrine built around the photograph of the beautiful raven-haired woman. “She looks just like Claire,” Dana whispered more to herself than anyone, but Jake heard and had to agree. The similarities were eerily alike.