of leaves and the sound of animals scurrying for food, the forest was eerily quiet.
His dark hair gleamed in the sliver of sunlight fighting through the clouds and the spindly willow branches, his chiseled jaw clenched in concentration as if his mind had taken him to a dark world far away.
Terror stole through her as he picked her up and settled her on the ground on top of the petals. Smiling, he spread more of the dying flowers across her body.
He pulled a bramble vine from another bag and laid it on the ground. The sharp blade of a knife glinted.
Then there was a bright light. The flash of a camera. He walked around her, taking photos of her posed on the bed of daffodils.
“Scream for the video, Cathy,” he murmured as he drew closer.
Opening her mouth to scream, the sound died in her throat as he raised the knife and held it above her head.
She managed a tiny shake of her head and a guttural sound of protest, but he showed no mercy, only judgment in his menacing eyes as the blade plunged into her.
Sixty-Six
Marvin’s Mobile Home Park
Derrick studied a text from his partner as Bryce pulled into the mobile home park where Philip Paulson lived. Shondra had been abducted from this very place.
According to Bennett, a print he’d found at the fire belonged to Paulson, whose six-year-old daughter had been one of Hiram’s victims.
“Do you know this man?” Derrick asked Bryce, showing the sheriff footage of the protests where Paulson had been present.
Bryce pinned him with an angry look. “I know of Paulson, but if you’re asking if I saw this coming, I didn’t.”
“According to the man’s neighbors,” Derrick said, reading the message, “when they were questioned during the Ghost case, he and his wife divorced two years after their daughter disappeared.” He skimmed further. “The wife filed for divorce, claiming her husband was an alcoholic. According to Paulson’s boss at the time, he went off the deep end and he had to fire him last year. The wife moved away with their son and refused to let him see the boy.”
“So his life spiraled because his daughter went missing,” Bryce said. “When her body was found, it triggered his rage toward Randall.”
“He needed someone to blame.” Derrick gave a brief nod.
“I know you think we’re small-town here, Agent Fox, but this is my county and I run it,” said the sheriff, his eyes hardening. “You can’t just come in and take over.”
Derrick’s anger spiked. “The feds are brought in to assist with cases that are wide-scoped and when police departments need help. It seems to me like you need all the manpower you can get to find this serial killer.”
“We’d find him without you.”
“Maybe so. But how many more women would die first?”
“Fuck you,” Bryce said, getting out and slamming the door.
The feeling was mutual. “Let’s just work the case,” Derrick replied, climbing from the vehicle. “If he’s not connected to the Weekday Killer, I need to get back to it and to Ellie.”
The sheriff’s look was scathing. “You should leave Ellie alone.”
“What’s it to you? At least I respect her work ethic.”
“What goes on between me and Ellie is none of your goddamn business,” Waters muttered.
Derrick ended the discussion by moving towards their target. While the sheriff went to the front door, Derrick moved to the right side of the trailer.
After knocking, Bryce signaled that he heard something, and Derrick hurried around back. Movement through the side window caught his eye, and he saw Paulson throwing clothes into a duffel bag as fast as he could. Another knock from the sheriff made Paulson jerk his head up, eyes wide and wild-looking, and he snatched the bag and darted into the hallway.
Hiding beside the rail to the back stoop, Derrick pressed his back against the wall, waiting. There was a crashing sound as Bryce kicked in the front door. His shout echoed from indoors, and he heard running, before the back door burst open, and Paulson staggered outside.
Derrick stepped from the shadows, aiming his weapon. “FBI, we need to talk, Paulson.”
The man froze for a brief second, confusion on his soot-streaked face.
Sensing he was on the verge of running, Derrick called out, “Don’t do it.”
Panicking, Paulson gripped the rail and stumbled down the steps. Derrick snatched him with one hand and threw him up against the wall. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Paulson shoved at him like an animal, but Derrick slammed his fist into his gut, making him