Page 27 of Obsession (Temptation 4)

“Yes.”

Hope built within in me in response to that one little word. But it soon deflated.

“And no.”

I tilted my head. “Meaning?”

“The media hasn’t gotten hold of this story just yet, and we’re hoping to keep it that way.” He gave us all a pointed glare, letting us know that what he was about to share wasn’t to leave this room. “My superiors didn’t want me to inform you of this, but I felt you deserved to know. But, please, keep it to yourselves. I’m already on thin ice after…” He trailed off, glancing at Londyn before returning his eyes to mine. “Well, after recent events. But if I were in your shoes…” He looked between Londyn and me, “I’d want to know.” He kept his gaze on me. “Especially you.”

“What happened?” Nikko inquired. “Where did you find him?”

“I’m not sure how much of the news you’ve caught recently—”

“We’ve been trying to avoid it,” I explained. “Trying to go on as if life is normal. Or as normal as possible, all things considered.”

“That’s probably for the best.” He cleared his throat. “Yesterday, a story broke about a murder-suicide thirty miles north of here. Unfortunately, with Nick’s escape dominating the headlines, this story received little to no attention.”

“It wasn’t a murder-suicide, was it?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

He slowly nodded. “Correct. There’s a lot more to it. There was a murder.”

“But no suicide.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Was it Nick?” Londyn asked.

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?” Wes tightened his hold on Londyn’s hand. “If it was a murder-suicide, I don’t—”

“One of the victims, Christine Griffin, didn’t die from the…” He briefly grimaced before finishing, “attack.”

His obvious unease gave me pause. This was a man who’d spent his career chasing some of the most notorious and sadistic killers ever to walk the face of the earth. Something about this unsettled him.

And if Agent Curran was unsettled, I couldn’t help but be, too.

“As such, Ms. Griffin was able to identify her assailant. Once she did, the local authorities called the GBI, whom I’ve been helping to track down Jaskulski, considering my history with him.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Saturday evening, a house located ten miles from the scene of the prison transport crash was broken into. At approximately 7:30 p.m., Christine’s husband, Jason, went out to the garage to grab a beer from the refrigerator. When he returned, a man who matched Nick’s description was behind him, pointing a gun at his head. Nick was free from his handcuffs and shackles, and wore street clothes — a white, button-down shirt, dark jeans, and loafers.”

My pulse increased, stomach churning. “He has a gun?”

Agent Curran nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so. But the gun is the least of my worries. Especially after…” He swallowed hard, expression blanching.

After taking a moment to compose himself, he continued.

“Nick zip-tied Jason to a dining room chair, then forced Christine to go to her bedroom and change into something more appropriate for dinner. He also changed into one of Jason’s suits, since they were roughly the same size. Throughout this entire ordeal, he called her…” He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

I’d known Agent Curran for seven years. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him this off. This upset. This…distraught.

“Called her what?” I asked with a quiver, fearing what the answer could be.

He shook his head and lifted his gaze to mine. “Julia.”