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T he sound of dripping water and a cold that seemed to bore right through her skin and bones snatched Sierra from the dark fog.

Where was she? Her thoughts wouldn’t pull together. Getting her eyes to open was like trying to pry free a rusty door. She finally accomplished the challenge.

Darkness made it impossible to see her surroundings.

She had no recollection after losing consciousness. The tow truck driver had drugged her with something powerful. Propofol or Ketamine maybe. She wasn’t in the vehicle anymore. Sierra believed he’d taken her to a house. Probably his lair. She guessed he held her in a basement of some sort.

Her wrists and ankles were bound to something cold. Sierra’s fingers reached out and touched something metal like a table . . . the type that the medical examiner used to perform an autopsy.

The thought turned her stomach. She fought to keep from being sick.

Hang on.

There was no adjusting to this type of darkness. It was what she imagined deep space would look like.

Panic settled around her. She’d been in this type of situation before, but there was one thing different about this time.

No one knew where she was.

Stay calm.

Panicking wasn’t going to help the situation. Keeping her head about her might be the only thing to keep her alive.

There had to be a way out of here. And she had to find it. Soon. Before she discovered what Henry had in store for her.

A door slammed somewhere above.

She’d heard voices. Was someone there with Henry? Someone who could help?

Sierra had to get the gag off. She twisted her head, but it wouldn’t loosen. Using her tongue to try and push it forward was of no use. She couldn’t get the gag to budge. Whoever was up there with Henry wouldn’t be able to hear her pitiful attempts at a scream.

Where did that leave her? Sierra struggled to keep from hyperventilating. Weakness wasn’t going to get her out of this situation.

Think!

She listened closely. Movement up above. One set of footfalls. The second person was leaving. She heard a car start up. He’d had a visitor. A female.

Don’t fall apart. Don’t you dare fall apart.

Sierra could almost hear her mother saying those words. You’re strong, baby girl. You’ve been through much worse.

Losing her mom had almost destroyed Sierra.

Tears crept into the corners of her eyes. She’d come to Wyoming to make peace with her mother’s death. To find a way to deal with what happened with her psychiatrist. To move forward with her life without Zeke.

The scalding tears poured from her eyes. She didn’t want to move on without him. She loved him. But she hadn’t given him a chance to tell her what he felt. She’d simply stormed off in her usual fashion.

I’m sorry, Zeke. Please come find me.

Sierra believed he would. Henry would have her phone. He’d probably turned it off to keep it from being tracked. She believed that would trigger Zeke’s concern. He’d find a way to get the team here. She just had to hang on long enough for them to find her.

The Jeep’s tracking system. They could find her by it. Her hope dashed when she remembered Henry would have possession of it. Had he moved it somewhere far away? Destroyed the tracking system?

She heard the man’s labored steps moving around upstairs.

A door squeaked. He was coming.

Sierra tried to lift her hands. She couldn’t. She’d forgotten they were restrained.

She needed to find a way out of this, but she couldn’t make out much with the darkness pressing in.

The kindly old man she thought reminded her of her grandfather was the one who had taken her. He’d taken Dawn too. Probably the others who’d gone missing all those years ago.

Help me, God. I’m in a real pickle here.

The frantic prayer came to mind as those lumbering steps headed her way. Sierra struggled to free the gag, but he’d tied it too tight.

Somewhere nearby, another door opened and closed. More steps. Then a much closer door opened. The room flooded with light. Sierra closed her eyes against its glare.

“Welcome to my little sanctuary, Sierra,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “You’re going to be staying here for a while. We have time to get to know each other better.”

Sierra glared at him, defiance burning in her eyes.

She had to get out. She had to survive. Forcing herself to focus, she began to assess her surroundings, searching for anything that might help her escape.

He slowly closed the space between them. Carefully removed the gag and smiled. Henry’s kindly persona was back.

“People will come looking for me.”

The man shrugged. “Let them look. They’ll never find you. I’ve destroyed everything that would lead them here.”

He’d taken her phone. Her watch. Probably the laptop in her backpack. She didn’t hold out hope about the Jeep either. It would be up to her to get away and right now, she was as weak as a kitten.

“You won’t get away with this.”

“Come, my pretty girl. Let’s not think about such things now.” He touched her cheek.

Sierra bit his hand. He jerked it back with a string of curse words. “That wasn’t very nice.” Henry stepped back as she screamed at the top of her lungs. He went over to a sink nearby and washed the wound.

She’d brought blood. Good.

Sierra continued to scream as he wrapped a rag around his hand and returned.

“No one can hear you, my dear.”

“No one? Not even your friend?” She did her best to get under his skin. Throw him off his game.

“She’s not my friend. She was my wife’s friend.”

Sierra couldn’t believe he was sitting there talking about his wife as if he was just some normal guy who had done nothing wrong.

Her gaze skimmed around the room. When she saw them, she almost vomited. Barrels. Eight of them. She craned her neck to see them better. They were clear. So that the person looking in could see the contents.

“Ah, I see you’re admiring my girls.” Henry turned toward them as if he were talking about his children. “They are all special to me. In death, I treated them with the dignity they deserved in life.”

She recoiled. Did he plan to stuff her in one of those barrels?

“You’ll never get away with it, Henry. By now, my people are heading this way. They’ll figure out you’re the one who’s been killing women, and they’ll put you away for the rest of your life.”

Henry shrugged. She guessed his age to be seventy-something. The threat of prison probably didn’t hold that big of a deterrent to him.

“Doesn’t matter. Cancer will beat them to it.”

Cancer. The truth or a lie? She had no idea.

“But let’s not talk about that. This is the part where we get to know each other better.”

Get to know each other? He was crazy. “Why would I want to get to know you better?”

He smiled. “Because the longer we talk the longer you live. The longer you avoid the monster.”

She conceded that point. “Are you the monster?”

Henry didn’t respond. “And besides, we can’t start yet. We must wait for . . .”

“For what?”

He smiled. “You’ll see in time.”

She’d almost gotten the truth out of him.

“Tell me about your work with the FBI. What does the BAU do?”

She tore her eyes from the barrels.

“We hunt monsters like you,” she spat out. “And we’re good at it. You think you’re the first one to take me hostage?”

Henry’s interest peaked. “Really? I’d love to hear about that time.”

She almost believed he was genuinely interested. “Why? You want to compare notes?”

Henry shook his head. “You don’t have to be nasty. I’m being very nice to you, aren’t I?”

“You kidnapped me. You’re planning to kill me.”

Henry’s smile faltered.

Desperation stood at the edge of her brain and tried to gain control. Sierra knew if she were going to survive this awful thing, she couldn’t give into it.

“You asked me about my work.” Sierra waited for him to take the bait.

His eyes gleamed with happiness. “I did. Tell me the type of people you hunt.”

She tried not to show revulsion. Did he get off on hearing about others like himself?

“Our team is charged with bringing down some of the worst serial killers. Ones like you,” she couldn’t help but add.

“You don’t know what type of person I am. One mustn’t jump to conclusions, Sierra.”

She would match him wit for wit. “You’re holding me hostage, restrained to a metal table, where I’m sure you have all sorts of awful things planned for me.” Her attention jerked toward the barrels where those who had gone before her rested.

“Maybe they disappointed me. Have you ever thought of that?” He was playing with her.

“Their torment didn’t live up to what you expected?”

A moment of anger flashed before his face broke into a smile, and then he doubled over in an all-out belly laugh. “Oh, Sierra. We are going to have so much fun. Would you like to get loose from the table for a bit? I have a sitting area over against the wall.”

This was her chance. Earn his trust. Get him distracted and then get out of here.

But she couldn’t give too much away. “Sure. We might as well get chummy before you kill me.”

Another laugh had her believing her plan was working. “I’m not the one you have to worry about.” The statement confused her. Was he talking about someone else or just delusional enough to believe someone other than himself did the killing.

She wanted to live. Wanted to have the chance to see Zeke again. Tell him she was sorry. She’d take whatever he was willing to give her.

“Now, don’t try anything. I’d hate to have to end our time together early.”

His warning made it clear. If she tried to escape, he’d kill her sooner than planned. She noticed her Glock on a tray along with other instruments of his trade. Some she’d seen before at other crime scenes. The thought of what they’d been used for in the past was frightening.

“Ah, I see you’re admiring my tools.”

“No, I’m wondering why you have my Glock.”

He went over and lifted it up. “Very nice. I’m assuming it’s Bureau issued?”

She thought this had to be the strangest conversation she’d ever had, and she’d already survived two attacks by serial killers. One had been a member of their own elite BAU team. The other, her psychiatrist.

Keep him talking . . .

“That’s right.”

He turned the weapon over in his hand, then set it down and returned to her side. “I’m going to release your wrists and ankles, and we’re going to sit over there in my nook.” He indicated a corner of the room obscured by boxes. “And you’re not going to try to use any of your FBI training because if you do . . .”

Sierra nodded, though she planned to take him down the second the opportunity arose. “I understand.”

Henry eyed her for a long moment. “I may be old, but I’ve been doing this for a long time. Never once has one of my girls gotten away. They all thought about it. Believe me, I can tell. Just like I can see it in your eyes.”

The threat hung in the air as he unlocked her restraints.

She was still fully dressed, so Sierra believed the motive wouldn’t be sexual.

“I need to use the bathroom first.”

Henry eyed her with suspicion. “There’s a small one over there.” He pointed to a toilet and sink in one corner.

She managed to stand though her entire body felt weighed down from the drug he’d used. With Henry’s help, Sierra made her way to the rudimentary bathroom.

Henry pulled a curtain to give her some privacy. “Don’t try anything, Sierra. We both know you’re not strong enough anyway and I would hate to have to dose you again.”

She hated to admit it, but Henry was right. She could barely walk. Once she finished, she washed her hands and dried them on her jeans.

She stumbled and almost fell as she exited the curtained area. Henry grabbed her arm again for support. “Easy does it.”

Henry smiled, his eyes twinkling like her grandfather’s. Yet they were nothing alike. Grandpa Ellis taught her to hunt and fish. They’d moved to his spread in Colorado following the death of Sierra’s father. She’d loved living there despite the tension that existed between Grandpa Ellis and her mother.

He pointed past the boxes while keeping one hand in his pocket. Sierra had no doubt Henry had another syringe in there.

She rubbed the spot on her neck that itched from the injection. Her limbs remained weak. Vision blurry. Whatever it was, it had been powerful enough to take her down quickly.

A small sofa and a couple of chairs and end tables were positioned into one corner along with a floor lamp. Sierra dropped into one of the chairs and immediately regretted her choice because it provided a clear view of the barrel girls.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Henry followed her line of sight. “Each one special in their own way. I enjoyed our conversations so much.” He hesitated. “It was a shame they had to die the way they did.”

When he referred to the girls’ murders, it was as if he believed someone else had killed them. Henry appeared to see the women as his friends. Not the victims of a crazed killer who wanted them for trophies. He was definitely one of the strangest killers she’d dealt with.

Sierra focused on the barrels and noticed something she hadn’t before. Hers and Dawn’s barrels were empty. Dawn Collins wasn’t dead yet.