Page 36 of The Devoted Game

T . . . O. To. g . . . o. Go.

Two down ... how many to go?

The world stopped for a moment, leaving Vivian’s mind reeling with disbelief.

He wasn’t nearly finished. Resignation dragged at her muscles ... made her legs go rubbery again.

She turned slowly, her gaze landing on McBride where he sat on the ground speaking softly to Katherine Jones.

They had saved two ... but would their luck hold out as the challenge intensified?

Vivian peered back at the innocuous words that added up to the promise of more.

It only took one mistake ... one failure ... for someone to die.

Eleven

University of Alabama Birmingham (UAB) Hospital

Sixth Avenue, Saturday, September 9, 8:15 a.m.

“I’m sorry.” Katherine Jones’s voice was a raw, raspy croak. “I just don’t know.”

“You focus on recovering, Mrs. Jones. We’ll find the person responsible for this,” SAC Worth promised.

Worth, with Grace alongside him, paused at the foot of the patient’s bed to speak with the doctor. Ryan watched from the position he had taken next to the door. He wasn’t wasting his time, or the victim’s, with questions. The unsub they were dealing with was far too smart to have allowed her to see his face.

Considering what she had been through, Mrs. Jones had been in damned good shape when they pulled her out of that freezer. Other than scared half to death and dehydrated, despite sitting shoulder deep in water, her stay in the hospital was for observation only. Feeling the water rise and knowing you couldn’t get away would shake anyone to the core, sedated or not. Poor woman. When she’d first heard Grace and Ryan talking, she had thought she was dreaming.

The best part of the whole ugly episode was that she had lived to tell about it.

Worth cut Ryan one of those this-is-your-fault looks as he exited the room.

Grace hesitated at the door, didn’t follow her boss. “You coming or did you have additional questions?” She craned her neck to see if Worth was out of hearing range.

Ryan shook his head and pushed away from the wall. “Let’s go.”

In the sterile, endless corridor outside the room, he had to remind himself which way to go for the elevators. He was beat. He’d survived solely on coffee for the past twenty or so hours. Caffeine could only go so far.

Worth hadn’t waited, which suited Ryan just fine. The SAC had already given his thoughts on the latest search-and-rescue endeavor. This whole charade was out of control, in his opinion. To his way of thinking, no former agent should have thousands of fan letters and some stalker fan kidnapping and terrorizing innocent people. Someone was going to end up dead, and the Bureau would be blamed. Bottom line: Ryan McBride was an albatross. This whole mess was his fault.

What’s new?He hadn’t expected Worth to feel any other way. Frankly, Ryan didn’t give one shit how Worth felt. But he wholeheartedly agreed with the theory that if this nutcase Devoted Fan kept at it—two down, how many to go?—someone was going to die.

And that would be Ryan’s fault.

Grace pushed the call button for the elevators. “You okay?”

Hell no, he wasn’t okay.

He rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, attempted to block out the spots floating in front of his retinas. Bad sign. He knew the symptoms. Lack of sleep, alcohol, and nicotine. And a kind of fear he hadn’t felt in a long-ass time bullying its way into the mix.

His hand shook as he lowered it back to his side.

He needed downtime.

No ... What he needed was to get out of here before someone died on his watch.

The elevator doors slid open and he couldn’t move. Couldn’t walk into that cramped space.