AUTUMN’S LEGACY

AUTUMN TRENT SERIES

SEASON TWO BOOK SIX

MARY STONE

Copyright © 2025 by Mary Stone Publishing

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Formatted with Vellum

For every reader who’s stood beside Autumn from the very beginning...through every fight, every fall, and every hard-won victory. Thank you for loving her fiercely. She wouldn't have made it without you.

And for Mary Sue...

A devoted reader whose strength, kindness, and love of story moved me beyond words. Wishing you peace, wherever you are when these words find you. Your name will always live here, in ink and in heart.

DESCRIPTION

One wants to erase the past.

One wants to rewrite it in blood.

One woman will do whatever it takes to end them both.

Still shattered by grief after watching the love her life die before her eyes, FBI Special Agent Autumn Trent has only one goal...track down the woman responsible for his death and make her pay.

One way or another.

But the daughter of the Fabbri crime family won’t go down without a fight. Especially with her kidnapped infant niece in her possession.

Then comes the unthinkable. The Crucifier—a sadistic zealot who recently made headlines for "cleansing" the Fabbri bloodline—has escaped from prison. He'd exorcised all but two remaining "sinners" of the Fabbri family, brutally crucifying them and anyone who got in his way. Now he’s still hellbent on ending the bloodline of Fabbri survivors once and for all.

Including the baby.

With the help of her best friend, Winter Black, Autumn must navigate a harrowing game of cat and mouse—where finding one killer means trusting the other. But behind the chaos lies something even more devastating: a secret buried deep within the Bureau that could destroy everything Autumn thought she knew.

Autumn’s Legacy, the stunning finale to Season Two of Mary Stone’s bestselling Autumn Trent FBI Series, is a powerful reminder that no one is beyond redemption—and that healing sometimes begins at the end.

1

Charity Atkins peeled off a slender strip of loose floral wallpaper from the safe house kitchen wall, absently wrapping it around her index finger. If she had to guess, based on the yellow-and-orange daisies on puke-green print, she’d assume the room hadn’t been redecorated since the seventies. The entire one-story brick house was an aging eyesore, and the fact that she was rarely allowed to walk outside its walls did nothing to help her adapt to this supposed sanctuary.

Who knew dating some random boy in high school could end this badly?

Kyle Fletcher wasn’t random, though. Not in the big scheme of things. But Charity hadn’t received that memo until far too late.

As the son of a former Mafia boss, Kevin Fabbri—Kyle’s real name—was doomed from conception. Despite the federal government’s attempts to protect him and his orphaned siblings with new aliases, he couldn’t escape the “mob kid” status.

Even the passing of fifteen years hadn’t been enough to protect Kyle from all who sought vengeance against his family for the sins of his father.

“Charity.” Her mother’s voice snapped across the kitchen table as she swirled a scoop of mashed bananas from a tiny plastic jar. Diane Atkins was a mannerly, by the book forty-four-year-old woman who rarely let anything slide. “Don’t destroy the wallpaper, honey.”

Turning away from the wall, Charity couldn’t help but smile. Marisol, her one-year-old daughter, sat happily in her high chair, waiting for Grandma’s next spoonful of goopy goodness with a half-open mouth and slimy remnants on her round, rosy cheeks.

“Have you actually looked at this wallpaper?” Charity grinned as she grabbed a wipe from the table and gently swiped at Marisol’s messy face. “I think it gave up on life sometime last century.”

Expecting more chiding, she was delighted when a laugh escaped her mother’s lips instead.

“You might have a point there. It does sort of resemble a hate crime in floral form.”

Being stuck in a safe house with her nineteen-year-old daughter and one-year-old grandchild for over a month and a half had taken its toll on Charity’s kind and courteous mother. They needed humor now, more than ever.

Diane allowed herself a few more chuckles before frowning again. “But still. It’s the principle. Besides, Agent Hayne might arrest you if he catches wind of the property destruction.”

Hearing his name, the federal employee stuck his head around the corner from the living room. “Couldn’t care less, ma’am. Could not care less.”

Charity and her mother sputtered into laughter again. As far as 24-7 law enforcement agents doubling as babysitters went, they’d gotten lucky with Jason Hayne. At six-two, the thirtysomething had a formidable appearance while simultaneously possessing an unexpected playful streak and gentle nature.

Even the baby liked him.

And he’s not so bad to look at either. Those dimples.

Her face flushing hot, Charity focused on Marisol’s big brown eyes and avoided glancing in Agent Hayne’s direction. He was too old for her and too young for her mom—or so they told each other—but Charity had a feeling both Atkins ladies would have happily overlooked the age difference if his attention slid their way.

Though Mom would only admit to it over her own dead body.

The man was all about the job regardless, and given the situation, Charity appreciated his professionalism. Jason was a dedicated federal agent who tried to make the best of the mess he’d been left to guard. And she’d be forever grateful when all was said and done—assuming Kevin’s big sister, Alta Fabbri, ever gave up seeking her bloody revenge for the loss of her two brothers.

“I miss my brown hair.” She tugged at a bleached-blond lock and frowned at her mother. “And these contacts are driving me insane. Was giving me blue eyes really necessary?”

Charity’s eyes were naturally the same deep brown as Marisol’s, and she wondered if her daughter would get confused as to what Mommy really looked like. Was that possible for a one-year-old?

“I understand your frustration.” Her mother’s usual hoity-toity tone returned. “But the federal agents wouldn’t have placed us here and asked us to make these changes if it weren’t for our own safety.”

Charity studied her beautiful baby girl. “You don’t think dressing Marisol up as a boy is taking it a bit far?”

“Hey, now.” Agent Hayne strolled into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. “Everyone here knows Marisol is the resident princess.” He stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes, earning a delighted squeal from the baby.

“Yes.” Charity sighed and checked the oven timer. “We know. I guess that has to be good enough for now.”

She itched to see other human faces. Since they’d moved into the rural haven so graciously bestowed upon them by the federal government, they hadn’t even been allowed to take a trip into the nearby town of Hamel. Granted, the bustling metropolis boasted a whopping population of just over three thousand, and its main attraction—a run-down mom-and-pop grocery store—offered little by way of entertainment or inspiration, so they weren’t missing much.

I should be inspired by the fact that I’m still alive. Focus on the positive. Alta hasn’t killed me or my daughter. Yet.

“This won’t last forever, ma’am.” Agent Hayne had been told to call her Charity at least a million times, but he didn’t seem to be capable of that. “Alta Fabbri can’t hide indefinitely. Once they have eyes on her, it’s only a matter of time until you’re free to live your life the way you’d like.”

The timer beeped, prompting Charity to remove a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls. “Mom, you did really good this time. These look amazing.”

“So what you’re saying,” Diane jammed her fists on her hips, “is the last batch was unacceptable.” A playful wink followed.

Mom’s in such a great mood. Hope it lasts.

Charity tried to choke down her laughter but couldn’t. “Come on, Mom. Those weren’t cinnamon rolls. They were like…”

“Hockey pucks,” Agent Hayne finished the sentence for her. “With all due respect, ma’am, your daughter is just telling the truth. I’m sure that’s how you raised her. It’s commendable, really.”

Smiling, Diane popped the spoon into Marisol’s mouth. “Okay, okay. That’s fair. But if I can admit my last batch of cinnamon rolls was a culinary disaster, maybe Charity can admit that, as far as disguises go, she got off easy.”

Poor Mom. She’s not wrong about that.

Charity’s mother had been asked to bleach her dark hair not blond but white, cut it short, and perm it. Once she’d added the granny glasses to her new look, she could easily be mistaken for a sixty-something grandmother instead of the pretty mid-forties woman she was.

“Hey, you’re an adorable granny.” Charity pulled three plates from the cupboard and began dishing out the steaming-hot breakfast. “And technically you are a grandmother. There’s no shame in that, right?”

Expression softening, Diane leaned in and kissed Marisol’s forehead. “You’re right. She’s worth all of it.”

“Plus,” Agent Hayne’s light-brown eyes widened as Charity placed a giant roll in front of him, “we gotta look the part.”

“Right.” Charity rolled her eyes. “I’m the pathetic sixteen-and-pregnant dropout who had to move in with her decrepit grandmother in the sticks.”

“Decrepit?” Her mom leaned back as though she’d been struck. “Easy now…floozy.”

Charity’s jaw dropped. “Low blow. Jeez.”

“I’d just like to point out,” Agent Hayne chewed a large bite of cinnamon goodness, probably desperate to keep his charges from further verbal sparring, “that you two aren’t the only ones suffering. I have to pretend to be a doofy ole country boy who helps out around the property. No one understands the true evil nature of overalls until they’re forced to wear them for days on end. And I grew up in the Bronx, for crying out loud. But nothing prepared me for this.”

Another round of laughter raised Charity’s mood a little further despite the less-than-ideal situation. Being a murdered Mafia son’s baby mama was far from what she once envisioned for her life.

She wished she’d never even met Kevin Fabbri. The prick had been an asshole of a boyfriend and a complete no-show as a father. He hadn’t even claimed the baby as his own. Not once.

Yet without the guy…there’d be no Marisol.

As if she could hear her mother’s thoughts, her daughter let loose an adorable chorus of giggles. Charity’s heart warmed in her chest.

Things weren’t great. But they could’ve been worse.

As if on cue, the lights flickered overhead and, in a split second, went out. The oven’s neon-blue digital clock vanished, and the rumbly purr of the refrigerator yielded to silence.

Her mother’s brow knitted in concern. “What’s going on?”

“Mom.” Charity’s heart had skipped a beat or two, but she told herself it was a little too soon to jump to conclusions about what was probably a simple power outage. Probably. “The lights flicker every time it storms. Our electricity was bound to go out at some point.”

As Diane pointed at the sunlight streaming through the crack in the kitchen window blinds, her expression tightened. “It’s not even raining. The wind’s kicking up, but the meteorologist said sunny skies.”

“It could still storm.” Charity had planned to eat a second cinnamon roll, but her appetite had disappeared along with the electricity.

Agent Hayne headed for the coffeepot. “I wouldn’t worry, ma’am. The wiring in these rural parts can be a little faulty, sure, and out here in the country, this is just par for the course.”

“You’re from the Bronx, remember?” Diane wiped Marisol’s cheeks clean, her voice stern. “What do you know about the country?”

Agent Hayne finished pouring a mug of coffee but didn’t return to the table. Instead, he stationed himself at the kitchen entrance. “I could send you to the fallback room.” He glanced through the kitchen doorway down the narrow hall that connected all the rooms in the house. “But I don’t think that’s necessary yet.”

“Mom.” Charity attempted to soothe her despite her own uneasiness. “Everybody knows that about the country. Besides, like you said, it’s sunny today. We have plenty of natural light. You clean up my baby girl, and I’ll tidy up the kitchen. Then we can have some playtime in the living room before her nap. Let the locals sort out the power situation.”

Agent Hayne nodded approval as Diane let out a sigh of defeat. “Fine. But let’s not forget that the locals aren’t worried about some unhinged mobster woman coming after their daughter and grandchild.”

Even as Agent Hayne tried to comfort them, Charity noticed how stiff he’d become. How watchful.

She grabbed a sponge from the sink, ignoring the shiver running down her spine. “That’s fair.”

Within a few minutes, Marisol was squeaky clean and cradled in her grandmother’s arms while Agent Hayne stood fixed like a sentinel. Charity scrubbed the last dish and breathed a sigh of relief that her mother seemed to have momentarily forgotten the malfunctioning electricity.

See, Mom? No raving lunatics are charging the house. Still, I don’t wanna eat dinner by candlelight like the freaking pioneers, so⁠—

The lights flickered again.

Posture tensing even more, Agent Hayne glanced at his phone. “Security cameras are down. Go. Now. Fallback room. Laundry closet, behind the units. Don’t ask questions.”

They froze as he turned toward them, his fierce gaze and hard-set jaw finally taking on the expression Charity had expected from a special agent with the FBI.

No smile, no dimples, no warmth.

The man went into defend-and-protect mode like someone had slapped his On button. “Fallback room. Go now. It won’t hold them forever, but it’ll buy you a few minutes.”

Charity felt like her feet were frozen in ice blocks, but Diane yanked her down the hallway toward the storage closet the Feds had repurposed as a fallback room. They crammed into the tiny space, and her mom locked and bolted the door as Charity crouched behind the out-of-order dryer, leaning back against the wood-paneled wall. Marisol’s eyes widened with the mirrored worry she must’ve seen on her mother’s and grandmother’s faces.

“This is just a precaution,” Charity whispered into her daughter’s sweet-smelling hair.

Climbing behind the steel appliances to join them, Diane hunched and threw an arm around Charity’s shoulders, pulling her in close. “Of course it is. Jason’s doing his job. Now hush.” She put a finger to her lips.

Hush. Because we both know it might not be a precaution.

He wouldn’t have caused them this degree of alarm if he wasn’t suspicious.

“Who’s there?” Agent Hayne’s shout tore through the house, jarring her from her thoughts. “Announce yourself!”

Gunshots were the only response.

Charity let out a yipe while her mother pushed her head low, right next to Marisol’s. “Stay down, honey. Don’t make a sound.”

As the gunfire continued, Charity’s insides turned cold. She couldn’t make out one gun from another, especially with how rapidly the shots came. Marisol cried into her chest, and Charity was thinking she might sob herself when the chaos came to an abrupt halt.

Silence.

She took a deep breath, kissing Marisol’s forehead repeatedly while staying tucked down in her mother’s lap. She couldn’t explain to a baby the absolute necessity of staying quiet, and the complete lack of sound coming from the living room did nothing to reassure her that the worst of the nightmare was over.

With so many shots fired, was it possible Agent Hayne could’ve made it through unscathed?

Please. Just give us the all clear. Please be okay.

Lifting her head, Charity exchanged a hopeful look with her mother, whose tear-streaked cheeks betrayed the horror of their current situation. Any second, Agent Hayne’s voice would carry down the hallway, and they’d find out who was responsible for the gun battle.

Charity’s heartbeat thumped in her ears as she strained to make out the sound of their protector’s voice. Of anything at all.

But the seconds ticked by in total silence.

Agent Hayne would’ve said something by now. He wouldn’t leave them suffering in suspense. He’d have assured them he was okay the second the gunfire stopped.

If he could.

“What if…what if he needs our help?” Charity tugged at her mother’s sleeve.

“No.” She shot her daughter an icy warning glare. “He said to wait. So we wait.”

Marisol sniffled, tangling her pudgy fingers in strands of Charity’s bleached hair. Charity chewed at her lip as each agonizing minute passed. “We’ve already waited. He could be injured. He could be dying. We can’t just sit here and let him die.”

Diane pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly torn between self-preservation and concern for the affable man who’d been charged with keeping them safe. “He. Said. Wait. We stay here with Marisol, no matter what. Understood? We follow his orders.”

Charity shivered at the thought of what might’ve happened to Agent Hayne but did as she was told. Her mother was right. He’d been very clear with his instructions, and they couldn’t afford to take any chances.

Three gunshots rang out, so loud that Charity’s ears screamed at the sound.

Marisol let out a wail. Charity’s hand flew up, pressing gently over her baby’s mouth, her other arm cocooning her close. “Shhh, baby, please.” But she couldn’t blame the child. She was close to crying too.

Listening hard, she tried to hear voices. Something.

Two more gunshots nearly loosened her bladder. Marisol wailed, and Charity could do nothing to calm her daughter.

At least the locks held, thank good⁠—

Boom!

An explosion tore through the door. A concussive blast rocked the space as a slab of wood slammed into the washer and dryer with a crash that shook the floor. Steel groaned. Smoke and splinters choked the air, stinging Charity’s eyes.

But the machines held.

Shielded by the metal, she hunched over Marisol, praying the girl stayed quiet.

A shadow filled the doorway.

Charity’s entire body trembled as she realized the nightmare wasn’t over. It was just getting started.

Marisol began to wail even louder, and Diane screamed as none other than Alta Fabbri looked down at the trio, her dark eyes shining with glee as her mouth widened into a grotesque smile.

Alta stepped into the little room as if she’d been conjured by hell itself. With more strength than seemed human, she shoved the warped door and the heavy dryer aside like cardboard.

Back in the days when Charity had dated Kevin Fabbri, believing him to be just another normal high school guy named Kyle Fletcher, she’d found his older sister, Ann—Alta’s alias—intimidating and cold. Now, after the string of murders in Alexandria that had claimed the lives of both of Alta’s younger brothers…after the crucifixions…the woman looked like the devil incarnate.

“Well, if this isn’t the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” Alta stood before them, beautiful, fearsome, and soulless, with an assault rifle slung across her back and a handgun pointed directly at them. “Time to pay the piper, bitches. You’ve got something that’s mine.”

Charity instantly turned to shield Marisol. “Please don’t hurt us!”

But Diane rose with a roar. “You will not hurt my babies.” Dropping her shoulder, she charged at Alta, who merely stepped to the side and threw her onto the hallway floor.

“Oh, Ms. Atkins, you’re mistaken.” Alta trained the gun on the woman. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

As Charity scrambled to her feet, Alta fired. The shot echoed off the narrow walls of the hallway and the low popcorn ceiling.

“Did you kill my…did you kill my…” Charity couldn’t choke out the words, her grip tightening around Marisol as her knees went weak at the sight of her mother face down on the hallway floor, a pool of blood spreading around her body.

She just killed my mom.

Alta aimed the gun at Charity. “Listen. I’m sure you can’t believe this is happening and whatever. But you need to keep your shit together right now and do exactly as I say, or you’ll end up just like mommy dearest. Got it?”

Charity’s eyes stayed locked on her mother’s body. “I-I-I⁠—”

“Do you understand or not? You’re coming with me. Or I’ll kill you. Now tell me you understand.” Alta’s snarl demanded Charity’s attention.

Meeting Alta’s demonic glare, Charity believed she’d never understood the meaning of the word “evil” until this very moment. “I understand.” She instinctively bounced Marisol as the baby began to cry again. “I’ll do wh-what you say. Please don’t hurt my baby.”

“Don’t give me a reason to, Charity.” Alta’s smile returned. As she lowered her gun, her shoulders relaxed, and her long black hair fell over her shoulders. “Pack some stuff up for you and the kid. We’re going on a trip. Call it a family vacation.”

2

Special Agent Autumn Trent stacked mini creamer cups on the wooden tabletop inside The Lyft while waiting patiently for her breakfast order to arrive. She and her best friend, Winter Black-Dalton, had spent many an hour together in the bar, discussing cases and colleagues, triumphs and heartache.

This morning, however, they sat in near silence, sipping fresh hot coffee. They had plenty to talk about, but both knew better than to open their mouths before they were sufficiently caffeinated.

When she graduated from college and started on her career path, Autumn had harbored a clear vision of what life had in store for her. Yet becoming a special agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation—specifically the Richmond, Virginia, Behavioral Analysis Unit—had offered Autumn the opportunity to take part in missions and cases she’d never dreamed of.

Despite the wealth of knowledge she’d brought to the team as a doctor of forensic psychology, she’d gained a trove of experience with the BAU, as well as…

Trauma. The word I’m looking for is trauma.

Had the one-eighty she’d taken when Supervisory Special Agent Aiden Parrish offered her a position on his team truly been the best decision? Was she even capable of taking a different path after all that had happened?

The real question is…do I want to?

Autumn bit her tongue, willing away the surge of emotions attempting to rise in her chest.

“Hello?” Winter waved a hand in front of Autumn’s face. “Earth to Agent Trent. You’re checking out on me here.”

“Sorry.” Autumn snapped to attention, managing the weakest of apologetic grins. “I’m just thinking about that conversation I had with Maury Fabbri a few days ago. How concerned he was for his granddaughter, Marisol, now that Alta’s gone rogue.”

Winter winced. “You really think Alta could kill a baby?”

“I think we need to find her before that’s even an option.” Autumn gripped her coffee cup until her knuckles turned white. “She doesn’t deserve to freely roam around after what she did to Aiden. And the fact that Maury even thought his daughter could take out her own infant niece confirms that she’s truly among the worst of monsters.”

“It does indeed.” Winter leaned back against the booth cushion. “No one’s arguing that.”

Autumn pressed her lips together. “Not finding Alta first could mean Marisol’s life.”

“Let’s just keep that at the forefront of our minds. We need to find Alta first to save a baby. Personal vengeance isn’t the motivation.” Winter gave Autumn a hard, penetrating look. “Right? That’s not what we do. That’s not who we are.”

“You’re still worried I’ll kill her.” Autumn read the concern like fine print across Winter’s face. “But I need you to believe me when I say I won’t. I would never. Not even…not even to avenge Aiden.”

Winter tilted her head, her silky black hair swishing to the side. “I do believe you.”

“Uh-huh. Remember, I can test that theory with one finger.”

Autumn had incurred a life-threatening injury at the hands of her biological father when she was almost eleven years old. He’d thrown her against a coffee table, and her head had slammed into the blunt corner. Without immediate brain surgery, she wouldn’t have survived.

But I did survive. And I woke up with freaky new abilities.

Simply touching another person instantly revealed their emotional temperature. The gift had seemed like more of a curse throughout Autumn’s teen years, which she’d spent with her loving adoptive parents, Kim and Ron Trent.

Winter knew about Autumn’s ability. It had been easy for Autumn to share her secret once she realized Winter had one of her own. Due to a violent attack on her family by a serial killer known as The Preacher, Winter had incurred her own traumatic brain injury and consequential surgery at thirteen.

With that accident had also come recurring headaches along with her new ability, usually preceded by nosebleeds, that often sent her into complete blackouts where cryptic but helpful visions awaited her.

The duo’s uncanny gifts had helped them on more than a few cases.

“Go ahead.” Winter reached her hand across the table, palm up. “Touch it. I said I believe you, and I meant it. You’re not a killer. It isn’t in you.”

Autumn shook her head, waving Winter away. “Nope. That’s cheating. And I believe that you believe me.”

Grinning, Winter took another sip of coffee. “Good. Now that we’ve established that we’re both honest, upstanding citizens, I want to tell you about something I saw that was a little…unbelievable.”

“Saw as in…?” Autumn’s heartbeat quickened.

“A red glow.” Winter glanced at the bar area. “Cassidy let me have a copy of Aiden’s case file. One of the pages was a map of the street, showing the three vehicles damaged in the explosion.”

Autumn steeled herself against the invading memories of fire and flying debris. “Damage is a bit of an understatement. Aiden’s car was closer to being incinerated, but please, continue.”

“You’re right. Incinerated. But the point is, the spot in front of where his car was parked and officially pinpointed by the Bureau,” Winter leaned across the table, lowering her voice, “glowed red on the map and when I looked at the actual street in front of your building. Not where Aiden’s vehicle was. The spot ahead of it. Something about that slab of pavement matters.”

“That whole section of street was paved over almost immediately.” Autumn tried to sort through the events of the first few days following Aiden’s death, all of which she’d spent in a fog of grief. “The street was taped off and the damage erased. I assumed someone had pulled strings to wipe out the horror of it for the people in the neighborhood and the reputation of the Bureau as quickly as possible.”

Winter tapped a finger against the tabletop. “What if someone did pull strings? But for different reasons.”

Her mouth going dry, Autumn considered the idea. “Federal agents aren’t going to mismark something that obvious. Unless…”

“They’re trying to keep something under wraps.” Winter finished the sentence for her. “It’s possible they’re knee-deep in figuring out a missing piece of the puzzle.”

Autumn ground her teeth together before locking eyes with Winter. “It’s also possible they don’t want anyone to know about that detail. What if they’re hiding something?”

Winter frowned, her nose wrinkling. “What’s there to hide? You saw it happen with your own eyes. We all know that Alta is out for blood and blames Aiden for the loss of her brothers.”

“I did see it.” Autumn cleared her throat and gently dropped a couple of the creamer cups back into their tiny metal basket. “And I still one-hundred-percent believe that Alta’s responsible. But what if Aiden wasn’t being protected for a reason? What if they allowed this to happen? Made Alta’s conquest a bit easier by just not getting in the way.”

That poison had been lacing her insides since Aiden’s car went up in flames. The Bureau had known the risk that Maury Fabbri’s demon-seed daughter posed, and they’d failed to protect him.

“‘They’ as in the Federal Bureau of Investigation? The organization sworn to protect this country and its people? The organization you work for and have dedicated your life to?” Winter crossed her arms, one eyebrow nearly shooting off her forehead. “I wish more preventative measures had been taken to keep Aiden safe too. But he was a highly valued agent. We both know that.”

Autumn snorted, attempting to rein in her bitterness. “So valued he was left to the wolves. Or wolf. Singular. They needed to find Alta Fabbri. To draw her out. What better way than to dangle her number-one target right in front of her? Maybe that was step one in picking up the scent of her trail.”

Rubbing her temples, Winter seemed to at least consider the idea. “I know you want answers, and I know you want Alta behind bars. But you need to be careful about where you let your suspicions roam. Grief is blinding, and yours is fresh. It’s not the right time to be conjuring conspiracy theories.”

“I know.” Autumn’s stomach growled, reminding her that an order of bacon and eggs was still on the way. “And you’re right. But the red glow doesn’t lie. Like you said…that slab of pavement means something.”

“It does.” Winter ran a finger around the rim of her nearly empty coffee cup. “And we’ll figure out just what that is. But let’s do it together. Methodically. Logical thinking only.”

Autumn sputtered out a few chuckles. “Says the woman who’s gathered private information about the case at hand through her unexplainable superpowers.”

Winter lifted her shoulders, a sly smile stretching across her face. “Okay. We’ll investigate it as logically as two sci-fi freaks can manage.”

Sadness stabbed Autumn’s chest. “Aiden knew about us. Well…he didn’t know everything, but he knew we were different.” She bit her trembling lip, willing the surge of despair away.

“You miss him a lot.” Winter’s sapphire gaze pierced directly into Autumn’s soul. “It’s okay, you know, to admit that. It hasn’t even been a month.”

“Close, though. Twenty-four days, eleven hours, and counting.” Autumn spit out the comment in a cool, emotionless tone she barely recognized. “Sorry. That was morbidly precise.”

Winter shook her head. “Stop apologizing. It’s me.”

Her friend had a point. As a former FBI agent herself, Winter had been right by Autumn’s side through a sea of darkness. Only when Winter and her husband, Special Agent Noah Dalton, moved to Texas had Autumn truly faced daily life alone.

Three entire months with my best friend halfway across the country. But she’s always been just a phone call away.

And in retrospect, Autumn hadn’t understood the meaning of alone until much more recently. One car bomb was all it took to clarify the true definition of the term.

After Aiden’s murder, Winter had returned to Richmond, determined to help Autumn track down her boyfriend’s killer.

But that wasn’t the only reason her best friend had come.

“Okay, I’ll stop apologizing if you stop obsessing over trying to protect me.” Autumn knocked what was left of her creamer cup tower over with the flick of a finger. “Alta Fabbri might’ve taken Aiden by surprise, but that tactic only works once. I’m ready for her.”

“One might say a little too ready.” Winter downed the last of her coffee. “According to Cassidy, you’re fixated on eliminating the threat.”

Autumn didn’t give a damn what Associate Deputy Director Ramirez said. “Yes, and according to Cassidy, we were all safe to begin with. I’m guessing Aiden’s ashes care to differ.”

Before Winter could respond, a familiar voice interrupted them. “Agent Trent?”

Autumn looked up, meeting the kind hazel eyes of Jewel Plath. “Dr. Plath. Nice to see you again. This is my friend, Winter Black-Dalton, P.I. Are you in the neighborhood to try The Lyft’s latest breakfast endeavors?”

Jewel pushed her long caramel-brown corkscrew curls away from her face. “No. Just coffee for me. This place is on the way to work, but I’ve never stopped in before. The coffee good?”

“It’s bold and hits the spot.” Autumn shoved the creamer cups aside. “My Aunt Leigh…well, my mother’s best friend Leigh, technically…owns the place. I used to work here. My sister works here now while she’s going to college.”

“Oh, so you’re regulars.” Jewel gave a polite nod, eyeing Winter cautiously. “Good to meet you.”

Autumn patted the seat next to her. “Sit with us for a minute or two. They’ll come take your coffee order.” She turned toward Winter. “Jewel’s a medical examiner. She was paramount in solving the tea party case.”

“Oh.” Winter sized up the petite physician. “Did your facility handle the corpses?”

“A little more intimate than that, unfortunately. I was at the tea party.” Jewel swallowed, taking a step backward. “I really should just grab my coffee and⁠—”

But Autumn had been meaning to tell Winter the rest of the story. “Jewel was one of the hostages. She helped us resolve the situation. And she also provided information that led us to the body of one of the victims. A body we might’ve otherwise taken a while to find.”

Winter waved a hand at the booth. “Sit. Please. Interacting with a serial killer firsthand must’ve been one hell of a traumatizing experience. But then again, you’re a medical examiner. You come face-to-face with trauma all the time.”

Jewel lowered herself to the padded seat beside Autumn, who noted she was careful about her injured leg—Jewel had been shot while making a bid for freedom during the tea party. “True. But generally, the trauma I run into isn’t quite so…active. The leg’s pretty much better, though.” Biting her lip, the doctor seemed immediately embarrassed by the comment.

Holding in a chortle, Autumn opened her mouth to say something to make Jewel less self-conscious but closed it again as her phone buzzed on the table. She grabbed the device and read the incoming group text message.

Report to the office immediately.

In true Gil Mullen fashion, the SSA had managed to alarm his agents with zero explanation.

“I’m sorry, ladies.” Autumn shoved her phone into her purse. “The BAU calls.”

Jewel stood, and Autumn slid out of the booth and brushed past her as the doctor slid back in, picking up on some anxiety laced with curiosity.

“Any idea when you’ll be back?” Winter echoed Jewel’s curiosity, minus the nerves.

“Nope.” Autumn pointed toward the kitchen. “A decent breakfast spread’s due out of that kitchen any minute, Jewel. Go ahead and have mine. I’ll shoot you both a text and let you know if I can return.”

Jewel offered her a wide smile. “Oh, thanks, but I’m really not⁠—”

“Oh, c’mon.” Winter waved Autumn away, facing Jewel. “Don’t make me eat alone. It’s not every day I get to have breakfast with a medical examiner. I’ve got enough questions to keep us busy until Trent gets her butt back here.”

Autumn hurried toward the exit, casting one final glance over her shoulder. “Enjoy yourselves. Winter, behave.”

Her best friend’s mischievous half grin was all the confirmation Autumn needed to know that Winter intended to do nothing of the sort.

3

Keaton Holland entwined his fingers with Sarah Nichol’s, guiding her down the park trail. She glanced up at him, limpid green eyes wide as her cheeks pinkened in the cool morning air.

“You really do this every day, huh?” Her nose wrinkled at the idea.

“Well,” Keaton slid his gaze to the surrounding trees, “I’d actually be running. But, yeah. Every day.”

Sarah giggled, the tinkling sound bubbling up her throat and past her lips like a wind chime. “So what you’re telling me is that I’m cramping your normal morning workout routine.”

Keaton shook his head. He knew he was grinning like an idiot but was unable to stop. “What I’m telling you is that I like having my style cramped. But only by you.”

“That might be the sweetest, weirdest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Keat.” She let go of his hand and picked up her pace, her long blond ponytail swishing back and forth. “Meet you in the middle with a speed walk?”

“Works for me.” He matched her step, his heart beating as though he’d been sprinting for miles.

Despite his brain running wild like a high school boy’s, Keaton had never felt more confident as a man or special agent for the FBI in his entire adult life. With every case the BAU solved, every serial killer they apprehended, the voice whispering, “Imposter,” in his ear since Quantico was getting quieter and quieter.

Ducking under a small branch that had strayed out across the trail, Sarah stopped. “Isn’t that Hailey?”

Keaton gazed ahead, catching sight of his little sister running toward them. “Sure is. She runs with me once in a while, but our schedules don’t always match up. And sometimes, you know, you just want to be alone.”

Eyebrows raised, Sarah placed a hand on her hip. “Oh, yeah?”

He pulled her in close and planted a firm kiss on her lips. “I was talking about siblings. Not you. You’re welcome to accompany me anywhere.”

“Just maybe not those brutal crime scenes.” Sarah’s grin faltered, indicating she was more than a little serious. Being Autumn’s sister and his girlfriend meant she often got a double dose of the horrors of the BAU cases. Secondhand, of course, but still, Keaton was keenly aware of it.

“Would you look at the lovebirds?” Hailey slowed as she approached, running a hand through her brown hair, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Hard to get a workout in when you’re floating through the park on clouds, isn’t it?”

Keaton couldn’t help but think that even in their twenties, they were still just two kids who got their kicks from riling each other up.

“Funny. So funny.” He twisted his features into a state of faux perplexity. “How are you not killing it in stand-up?”

Hailey rolled her eyes. “It was a hard decision, but the police academy somehow won out over a life on the road with unpredictable income.” She slid her gaze to Sarah. “You should make him race you. See if you can beat him like I did.”

While Sarah laughed, Keaton held up his hands. “That happened once. We were teenagers, and I was recovering from the flu.”

“So he says.” Hailey gave him a playful jab to the shoulder. “Or maybe your little sister just kicked your ass, fair and square.”

While Keaton took the ribbing in stride, his mind drifted to a different topic. “Have you learned any more about the…thing…you heard at the station?”

Just three days prior, Hailey had called to inform him that some officers had spotted Alta Fabbri in Richmond. But he hadn’t heard so much as a peep from his federal colleagues or the police concerning the matter.

Her expression drooped. “Nothing. I told you the lead was probably going to be classified.” She glanced at Sarah.

“I can go if you guys need to talk work stuff.” Sarah jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, her tone light. “Seriously. I know there are things you can’t say around me, and if⁠—”

“No.” Keaton slipped an arm around her waist. “No way. Hail and I can talk later.”

Hailey nodded her agreement. “I’ve got some errands to run after this, but how about you meet me at The Lyft for a late lunch? Around one? I mean, if it’s not interrupting whatever you two have planned.”

Sarah grinned sweetly at Keaton. “He’ll be there.”

He’d had no plans of spending the day anywhere other than in Sarah’s company, but touching base on the specifics of what he and Hailey knew about Alta Fabbri’s case wasn’t such a bad idea. “Okay. Fine. But a short late lunch. And then I’m all yours.” He gave Sarah a reassuring squeeze. “Promise.”

Hailey began jogging in place. “I can’t decide if you guys are cute or disgusting. Maybe it’s both.” She took off, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Such a way with words, that one. Sorry.” Keaton hoped Sarah hadn’t taken offense, but the smile on her face convinced him she was unfazed.

“Are you forgetting I have a sibling?” Sarah picked up her speed walking again, and Keaton matched her step for step. “Autumn’s never outright said we’re disgusting, but I’m sure we’ve grossed her out with some PDA on more than one occasion.”

The idea was amusing until Keaton remembered that Autumn’s “partner in PDA” had recently been reduced to nothing more than ashes.

She’d held it together like a champion, but Keaton knew the agony ran deep.

If I ever lost Sarah like that…no. Don’t even go there.

His phone beeped in his jacket pocket. Praying for anything but work, Keaton opened the new text. His gut dropped as he read SSA Mullen’s words.

Report to the office immediately.

“Crap.” He slowed to a stop, and Sarah halted with him. “I am so sorry. I know I said this day was completely free, but Mullen’s calling the team in.”

Sarah stretched up on her tiptoes and gently kissed his forehead. “It’s your job, and what you do is important. You keep the world safe for the rest of us normies out here. Don’t apologize for it. Ever.”

Pulling her into a tight embrace, Keaton thanked his lucky stars for Sarah’s easygoing nature. Having a girlfriend who was willing to allow that his career path required a different kind of commitment wasn’t something he took for granted.

As they turned to make their way back down the trail to the parking lot, he could only hope Sarah managed to keep that mindset for the long haul.

Before she’d entered his life, not much outside work and keeping his sister safe had interested Keaton. But Sarah had unlocked a piece of his soul he hadn’t quite realized existed.

He couldn’t deny it. She’d changed him, and he couldn’t imagine ever letting her go.

Autumn stepped past the doorway into the BAU offices, delighted to see Bree Stafford standing in the middle of the room, her dark-brown eyes sparkling with warmth.

“You’re back.” Autumn rushed toward the tall, slim Black woman, immediately pulling her into a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

Bree squeezed Autumn tight. “It’s good to be here. Although I wasn’t planning on showing up until Monday.”

Following the horrors of a past case, Bree had requested a transfer from the Behavior Analysis Unit to a much quieter in-office desk job. She and her wife, Shelby, had been expecting their first baby at the time, and the perils of active fieldwork no longer appealed to the seasoned agent. Having entered her third decade with the Bureau, Bree’s priorities had shifted.

But you came back. Your baby was born, and you’re here with us again. Something changed.

“Right. Monday was your official start date.” Despite the SSA’s urgent text, Autumn and Bree were alone in the room, giving the two a moment to reconnect. “You’re sure this is what you want? Even with the baby at home? I thought you were done with fieldwork.”

Bree nodded, attempting a smile but not quite getting there. “I was. But when Aiden…passed…I realized I wasn’t. It’s not in me to sit at a desk when so much evil in the world needs confronting. For better or worse, I was born to be out there. Hunting down the worst of humanity. The funny part is that Shelby agrees with me.”

“She gets you.” As soon as the words passed her lips, Autumn’s blood ran cold. An innate connection to another person defied all logic.

Losing that bond was an agony she prayed Bree would never know.

“She does. And here I am.” Bree tilted her head as her gaze bored into Autumn. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. Aiden was a good man. He deserved better.”

Autumn’s gut clenched. If she dwelled on the comment for more than a split second, she would fracture. She’d spent weeks building up her emotional armor, but in truth, she was made of glass. “Thank you.”

Relief flooded her body as Keaton rushed into the room with Agents Sun Ming and Roman Arnett right behind him.

As they approached, SSA Gil Mullen emerged from his private office, his expression even more severe than usual, broadcasting that they had no time for greetings or further small talk.

“Agents.” Mullen charged to the front of the room, instantly commanding their attention. “Forget whatever you were planning for today. We have a dire matter to deal with.”

Autumn stiffened, exchanging a quick glance with Bree, who nervously tucked her black hair behind her ears. Referring to anything as “dire” among this group of agents was truly making a statement.

The SSA took his place in front of the whiteboard, marker in hand and dark mustache twitching. “Charity Atkins and her infant daughter, Marisol, have been abducted from their safe house. The LEO assigned to their case, Special Agent Jason Hayne, as well as Charity’s mother, Diane Atkins, were shot and killed on the premises.”

Ice trickling down her spine, Autumn fought back a shudder.

Alta has them.

4

Autumn and Bree spent the hour-long drive to the safe house in Hamel in near silence, reviewing satellite imagery of the structure and its surroundings as Mullen took the wheel of the FBI-issue SUV.

Keaton, Roman, and Sun had stayed at the office to dig up every ounce of information the Bureau had on Charity Atkins and her family in relation to the Fabbri case, as well as to go over the previously classified details of her placement in witness protection.

Only one unmarked gravel lane leading off a narrow blacktop highway to the property left little by way of covert ops vehicular approach. The thick woods, nestled around the structure like a protective hedge, provided almost no visibility and looked like a hell of a challenge to anyone on foot.

The local sheriff had told them two separate sets of tire tracks appeared on the lane to the safe house. One tread, belonging to Agent Hayne’s undercover vehicle, went all the way to the home, while the second set of tracks stopped halfway down the gravel drive. A messy, trampled path in the grass to the right of the lane picked up where the tire tracks stopped, leading the rest of the way.

The perpetrator’s incoming route had been easy enough for the first arriving LEOs to ascertain. How the unsub would’ve known where to go at all given the isolated and classified nature of the safe house was anyone’s guess.

“I know we can’t just assume Alta Fabbri did this.” Bree turned from the passenger’s seat to meet Autumn’s gaze as SSA Mullen brought the SUV to a stop by several squad cars at the end of the lane. “But that’s on everybody’s mind, right? Maybe she didn’t come here alone. Or at all. Maybe she sent someone. Who else would want Charity and Marisol bad enough to risk their own life and kill two people, one of whom was just an innocent civilian?”

Autumn nodded, glancing out the window. The house wasn’t even visible from the lane entrance. “Unless a random serial killer just happened to come traipsing through these barely traversable woods and get the drop on a trained federal agent, it’s safe to say Alta’s topping off the list of suspects.”

“Agreed. But we still need to confirm.” Mullen opened the driver’s side door. “The lane’s about a quarter mile long. Stay outside the yellow tape on the walk up. Eyes open. I doubt whoever did this stuck around, but it’s a possibility.”

He issued the commands in a clear and concise manner reminiscent of Aiden’s cool-headed, authoritative style. Autumn wondered if, despite the team’s rocky start with Mullen, the man might have something of a noble leader inside him after all.

She scanned the thick walls of greenery lining the lane. “You think we’re being watched right now?”

Mullen eyed their surroundings calmly. “We simply have to be aware that they could still be out there with the two captives. Although if they’re nearby, it’s likely she’s already killed Marisol. Hard to keep a baby quiet when you’re trying to hide.”

“Except when the baby is Mafia royalty, the odds shift.”

“Fair enough. We’re leaning on the side of her being alive. But it’s best to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.” Mullen sounded grim.

Unwilling to mentally pursue that possibility, Autumn exited the SUV and took off for the house with SSA Mullen on her heels. Bree brought up the tail end of the trio. She had to be experiencing her own level of gut-wrenching anxiety at the mention of a dead baby.

Eventually, they spotted the safe house, an unremarkable one-story brick home with no garage or outer buildings. Special Agent Hayne’s sedan still sat in the drive, riddled with bullet holes from what had apparently been a fervent gun battle.

Mullen took the lead as a tall man in uniform exited the house and approached, meeting them on the front lawn.

“Sherrif Roddy Gould.” He stuck out a hand, and Mullen gave it one solid shake.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Gil Mullen.” Turning, the SSA pointed behind him. “With me are Special Agent Trent and Special Agent Stafford. My behavioral analysis team worked the case that landed the witnesses in this safe house to begin with.”

Sheriff Gould nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard. Sounds like you’ll be taking over, but if my deputies or I can be of any help, let us know.” He pointed to the house. “Power was cut. Shut down all the security cameras. Special Agent Hayne called in an alert and was killed shortly after. I’ll lead you inside.”

The front door was blown to hell, still hanging on its hinges but with enough holes to no longer serve a purpose. Keeping her distance behind Mullen, Autumn stepped carefully around the yellow tape and evidence markers riddling the crime scene at the safe house entryway. Blood spatter across the floorboards, carpet, and interior walls told the story of Agent Hayne’s death in deep-red writing.

“He took over a dozen shots from an assault rifle or similar weapon.” Sheriff Gould took in the mess, arms crossed. “His vest protected him from the chest wounds but not the shots to the head. And he took several of those.”

“Overkill.” Autumn murmured the word. “Indicative of rage.”

Mullen stepped to the side of the largest pool of blood. “Agreed.” He whistled at Sheriff Gould, causing the man to halt and several of the present officers to turn their heads. “Your people gathered fingerprints, yes?”

“They did.” The sheriff clasped his hands. “CSI has been all over this place. If there’s a match in the system, we’ll find it. But I don’t doubt you’ll be sending your own federal outfit in for a second comb-through regardless. No harm in checking it twice, especially under these extreme circumstances.”

Autumn noted the cringe in Sheriff Gould’s tone and the way his brow furrowed. Judging by the grays in his dark-brown hair, this likely wasn’t the first double murder or kidnapping he’d seen, but she wondered if he’d ever encountered an investigation involving an infant hostage.

“Diane Atkins was found just around the corner and down the hall.” Sheriff Gould led the trio of federal agents toward the second tragedy. “One to the forehead. Point-blank range. A handgun this time. From what we can tell, the ladies were hiding in the hallway closet. A lock and dead bolt had been installed on the inside. A safe room of sorts.”

“That tracks.” Mullen stepped into the hallway, pausing a moment before proceeding forward and allowing the others to follow.

The sheriff waved from the open closet door to the massive bloodstain on the carpet. “There were five shots to the door. Probably trying to shoot the locks off but missed. Then a small explosive device took care of the steel-reinforced panels. Diane Atkins had moved to the hallway before she was shot. She went down right there, and she stayed down.”

Autumn studied the large, dark-red blotch. She’d met Diane and found her to be a sweet-mannered woman devoted to her daughter and new granddaughter. The woman had so much to live for. So many years of love and laughter ahead, especially once she and her girls got past the whole Fabbri mess.

Except she didn’t get past the Fabbris.

“Other than that,” Sheriff Gould sighed, putting his hands on his hips, “it doesn’t seem like much more happened here. Charity probably cooperated with her abductor’s every request, given she had an infant to protect and might’ve had a front-row seat to her own mother’s murder.”

“So you cleared the entire house and found nothing else of consequence?” Autumn figured Mullen preferred to take the lead with Sheriff Gould, but keeping her mouth shut wasn’t in the cards.

The SSA’s stern gaze found her before the sheriff could respond, but to her surprise, her boss simply nodded his approval at the question. “The baby’s room, the nursery, in particular. What was its state?”

Sheriff Gould took a few steps down the hallway, pointing to the door at the end. “Everything was right as rain. Tidy. A dresser drawer partially open and a couple of diapers on the floor, but nothing alarming.”

Autumn took off down the hallway. “Clean diapers?”

“Yep. Still factory folded and neatly stacked. We left it exactly how it was.” The sheriff’s voice faded as Autumn entered the tiny room.

“How about a diaper bag? Bottles? Formula? Did you check the kitchen?” Bree fired the questions at Gould from the hallway.

The sheriff didn’t miss a beat. “My people looked everything over and didn’t find anything resembling a diaper bag. A few diapers and wipes in a basket in the living room. No bottles or formula in the house. But maybe Chastity was breastfeeding the little one.”

An empty crib, a rocking chair, a small dresser, and a changing table filled the room. Soft yellow and mint-green decor proved that even in the safe house, the Atkins women had ensured baby Marisol received the princess treatment.

Just as Sheriff Gould had said, a few unused diapers lay on the carpet beside the changing table. With gloved hands, Autumn pulled out the pink bin situated on a shelf below. “They packed. Quickly. It would explain the empty bin and the diapers dropped on the floor. And it would mean that whoever took them didn’t intend on killing the baby. At least not immediately.”

“True.” Mullen crossed his arms, a deep frown activating every wrinkle on his face. “Dead babies don’t require diapers.”

Autumn’s stomach turned at the comment. Though it was accurate, the cool delivery held an abrasive snap.

Straightening to her full height, Autumn scanned the room once again as Bree followed them in. The loss of the security cameras left them in an evidence black hole, searching for clues without any help from modern technology.

Her gaze landed on a white state-of-the-art baby monitor near the crib.

“There.” She barked the word, pushing past Bree and beelining for the small, modern camera. “This is still on. And…” Autumn spun around until she found the rectangular video device that paired with it. “This is what we want. It’s not connected to any electrical outlet, so it has to be battery operated, and it has a playback feature. They usually go twenty-four hours back.”

“Which means it would’ve caught what happened here this morning.” Bree moved to Autumn’s side.

SSA Mullen got close behind her other shoulder as she rewound the recording, stopping intermittently until gunfire sounded through the tiny speaker.

Dammit. The camera wasn’t pointed in the direction they needed. Audio would have to do.

“The audio isn’t crystal clear. But it’s not bad.” Mullen nodded, stretching his neck to listen to the playback.

A few minutes of suspense-filled silence followed the gun battle before three distinct gunshots fired. Two more sounded, then came the noise of an explosion.

A baby wailed, followed by a woman screaming. Autumn and the others listened as Charity and her mother were confronted by a third woman.

“Well, if this isn’t the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Time to pay the piper, bitches. You’ve got something that’s mine.”

The venomous voice could only belong to Alta Fabbri. The malice in her tone was unmistakable.

The team continued to tune in as Diane Atkins roared in defense of her daughter and granddaughter.

Her scuffle was cut short by a single gunshot.

Charity’s shock and Alta’s threats came next, ultimately culminating in the ice-cold agreement that Charity and Marisol were now at Alta’s mercy. Assuming she had any to give.

“Well.” Autumn handed the monitor to Mullen. “Charity didn’t say the actual name, but we can compare this to other audio recordings back at the office for confirmation. I’m telling you, that was Alta Fabbri.”

“I agree.” Mullen pointed toward the door. “But we do need to have the recording officially analyzed. And in light of this, we need to start thinking like Alta Fabbri. We’re no longer dealing with an unknown perpetrator. We’re familiar with this suspect. How she operates.”

“What she wants.” Bree’s eyes gleamed with a fresh infusion of determination.

Autumn’s blood boiled as Aiden’s tombstone flashed through her mind. “And what she’s willing to do to get it.”

5

As the revelation set in that Alta Fabbri was out and about and making extremely visible choices such as murder and kidnapping, fresh hope swelled in Autumn’s chest.

Hidden away in seclusion from the rest of the planet, Alta had been the proverbial needle in a haystack. But the woman was taking action now. And while the Bureau didn’t know her exact plans, the fact that she’d slithered out of her hole in the ground meant they could pick up her scent and track her down.

“Okay.” Autumn squared her shoulders, looking expectantly at Mullen. “What’s our first move?

“Well—” The SSA had barely begun his sentence when his phone went off. He yanked it out of his pocket, brow furrowing as he checked the screen. “I’ll take this in the hallway. Stay here.”

Mullen shot from the room, and Autumn moved toward the doorway to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Bree’s apologetic tone pulled at Autumn’s focus.

She processed the sudden statement. “Where?”

“With you…and the team…when the case happened with the Fabbris.” Bree bit her lip.

“You were injured, and Shelby was due any day.” Autumn shook her head. “You couldn’t have been on that case anyway. Not out in the active field, whether you’d decided to stay with the BAU or not.”

Even as she frowned, Bree was exquisite as ever. Her calm, beautiful spirit hadn’t changed at all. “I could’ve been working the case from the office. I could’ve…maybe I would’ve been able to drag more information out of Aiden before Alta set her vendetta into motion.”

“Her vendetta began the day the Crucifier murdered her youngest brother.” Autumn blinked rapidly, attempting to push away thoughts of the crosses and gruesome deaths of Wagner Schull’s victims. “By the time we even had the Fabbris on our radar, it was too late to prevent the kind of danger Aiden was in. Alta was ‘activated,’ so to speak. And Wagner Schull was a surprise to us all. No one could’ve predicted a monster like that man would just…show up.”

After he lost his wife and four children in the crossfire of a mob-related shooting ten years prior, Wagner abruptly halted his life as a minister and family man. He now believed he was called by God to end the Mafia in its entirety, one crucifixion at a time.

Bree nodded, swiping at a tear on her cheek. “It’s just…you know that feeling you get at night when you’re trying to fall asleep? Replaying everything in your head. Thinking of the times you could’ve turned right instead of left and possibly stopped the train wreck. I can’t help thinking I could’ve prevented it all somehow.”

“I get it.” Autumn wasn’t sure she could convey how well she understood what Bree was saying. “The guilt is brutal, but it’s not really yours to bear. It’s a lie. Just the bargaining stage of the grief cycle. And I hope you didn’t return to the BAU because you felt like you had to make up for something you never could’ve prevented.”

“No.” Bree swallowed hard. “I want to be back. I belong here. I just wish I’d never stepped away. Everything went to hell after that forest.”

Another sentiment Autumn understood entirely too well. Regret.

Athaliah Brandt had managed to traumatize the entire team with her Nightmare Forest full of mind games and deceptive tactics, leaving the BAU altered and broken. Even though the woman was dead, she’d haunted each of them long after they’d escaped her web of lies in the woods.

The team had required a whole separate layer of healing to process the madness Athaliah had infused.

“We’re still alive, and we’re still fighting.” Autumn gave the only encouragement she could, given that life truly had been a horrifying shit show since the case that sent them all spiraling. “Aiden would want us to focus on putting Alta away, just like we put Wagner Schull away. That was a major win. Proof of our strength as a unit.”

Bree lifted her shoulders, a long sigh escaping her lips. “And I wasn’t a part of it.” She slid her gaze toward the open nursery door. “Is Mullen ever coming back?”

As if he’d been waiting for a cue, the SSA reentered the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “We’re going straight to the car. I need to conference call in the rest of the team. A huge complication has developed. We have to reroute our attention.”

Autumn searched Mullen’s stony features. “Something more important than trying to keep Alta Fabbri from murdering a teenager and her baby?”

“Yes.” Mullen grabbed the doorknob. “Not a word of this to the sheriff, his deputies, or anyone else for that matter, until we find out the details.” He swallowed. “Wagner Schull has escaped from prison. He’s on the loose. Alta is no longer the only threat to Charity and Marisol Atkins.”

A hard knot twisted in Autumn’s stomach. “The Crucifier is…free?”

Mullen put a finger to his lips. “Yes.”

Autumn wasn’t sure she could speak now even if she wanted to. All she could see was a flashing reel of Schull’s victims.

Michael Fabbri.

Kevin Fabbri.

Herman Saunders.

Ollie Weber.

All four nailed to crosses.

But Schull mixed things up too. Officers Humphrey and Tottles had been shot through the head for merely being in his way. They’d been stationed outside Alta Fabbri’s home in an attempt to protect the woman who ended up killing Aiden.

And perhaps the most tragic of all was young Helena Greer, who’d been three months pregnant with Kevin Fabbri’s baby at the time. Schull had made no exception for her, believing she was carrying the evil Fabbri seed and thus had to be eliminated. Helena’s murder had demonstrated just how ruthless and bloodthirsty the Crucifier truly was.

Marisol Atkins and Alta Fabbri were the last of the Fabbri bloodline, and Schull would be hell-bent on finding and destroying them both. If he got to them, Charity would likely die attempting to save her baby from Schull’s madness.

We have to get out there. We have to find him. Stop him before it’s too late.

“Taking a few minutes to check in with my team back in Richmond.” Mullen offered a few words to Sheriff Gould on the way out. “I’ll be calling in CSI as well.”

Sheriff Gould barely managed a nod of acknowledgment before Mullen led them down the lane and back into the SUV. He placed the conference call immediately without so much as a glance at Autumn or Bree.

Autumn stared at the SUV’s console from her spot in the back seat, where the SSA’s phone sat with speaker mode activated. Her knee bobbed while Mullen updated Keaton, Sun, and Roman.

“Schull pulled off his escape while in transit to a maximum security prison, accompanied by two guards, Morris Snow and Travon Goldstone. By the looks of the scene, the prison van was stopped in transit, and it appears Snow killed Goldstone and then let Schull loose. The working theory is that Schull somehow convinced Snow to go rogue…but then he killed the guard shortly thereafter, because Snow’s body was found on the side of the road by the back of the open van.”

Autumn dug her fingernails into the leather seat of the SUV, wishing she were back at the office with Keaton and Sun, who’d worked Schull’s case alongside her and Aiden. That psychopath was free once again, and he was intent on destroying the evil in the world with his own methods of torture and killing. Only the three of them felt the true gravity of this news in full.

We witnessed those atrocities together, and we stopped them together.

“It’s impossible.” Roman’s voice finally carried across the airwaves. “Who’d listen to one crazy word that fell out of Schull’s mouth? LEOs are too smart for that bullshit. Schull is next-level insane.”

“Money.” Bree gazed out the windshield at the April sun high in the sky. “I can almost guarantee money was involved.”

“Or the promise of money.” Sun punctuated her sharp statement with a snort. “I bet Morris Snow got jack shit out of the deal. Serves him right.”

“No matter how it happened, it happened.” Mullen’s words came out as barks and growls. “We’ll be looking into that at the prison where Schull was held. We need to keep in mind that not only are Charity and Marisol in even graver danger now, but so is anyone who stands in Schull’s way or becomes caught in any sort of crossfire between him and Alta Fabbri.”

Autumn shuddered at the thought. “And if those two meet, there will be crossfire. Alta has to hate Schull nearly as much as she hated…”

Unable to say Aiden’s name, she stopped short.

Roman quickly filled the void. “She’ll hate him even more if he’s trying to ruin whatever devious plan she has for her two captives.”

“Rome’s right.” Keaton’s tone was a mixture of barely contained fury and solid conviction. “Maury told Autumn that Alta considers Marisol family property. Whether she plans on ending the child’s life or not, she’s going to lose her damn mind if the man who crucified both her brothers somehow gets Marisol out of her hands.”

“And what about Charity?” Autumn hadn’t meant to interrupt, but now that she’d said the words out loud, she couldn’t take them back. “She’s not Fabbri blood. Whether or not Alta plans to end Marisol, what shot does Charity have of making it for even a full twenty-four hours?”

Bree tilted her head. “The best-case scenario is that Alta keeps Charity around to take care of the baby. Ms. Fabbri doesn’t seem to have a lot of maternal instincts mixed in with all that internal rage. If she wants the baby alive…thinks of her as property she’ll keep for herself…she needs someone to take care of her.”

“True.” Mullen tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “But Charity’s love for Marisol will be a problem whenever Alta gets tired of the idea the baby belongs to anyone aside from the Fabbri family.”

Autumn pinched the bridge of her nose. Maury hadn’t been certain Alta wanted to kill Marisol, but he was positive his daughter considered the baby theirs. Hers.

That didn’t bode well for Charity in the long term, although it possibly bought the young woman time while Alta attempted to make her way to safety.

All this was assuming Schull didn’t find them first and kill all three.

“There’s more.” The SSA shifted in the driver’s seat, his attention focused on his phone screen.

Autumn met Bree’s alarmed gaze. More?

“I’ve received an update from ADD Ramirez. A specific group of Richmond agents was assigned to handle all safe house assignments in relation to the Fabbri case.” Mullen’s sigh told a whole story in itself. “One of them, Gerald Brady, didn’t show up for work today. He’s out of comms range completely, and no one’s had contact with him for the last twelve hours.”

“They think Brady’s dead, or that he went dirty?” Keaton, ever the Boy Scout, likely couldn’t fathom the second notion.

“Either is possible.” Mullen finally lifted his eyes, turning to slide his gaze from Autumn to Bree. “But given the seedy nature of Alta’s family business, if Brady was in cahoots with her, he might be both. We can’t forget how much the Fabbris hate a loose end. Either way, we have to find him. We need to know for certain how she knew about that safe house.”

“If Agent Brady didn’t tell her, someone else on that team did.” Autumn wasn’t shocked by the betrayal of a federal agent. She’d ceased to register that emotion after watching Aiden’s car explode right in front of her.

Nothing would ever shock her again.

But she did find the idea infuriating. Innocent civilians depended on those in charge to put them in safe houses that were actually safe. They trusted those agents.

Diane Atkins had trusted those agents, and now she was gone.

“We have to divide and conquer.” Mullen nodded to himself as he spoke. “Agent Ming, I’d like you to meet us at the Atkins safe house. I have a few things to finish up with the sheriff here. Once you arrive, the four of us will head out to the police van crime scene where Schull escaped.”

“On it.” Sun sounded as if she were already gathering her belongings.

“Agents Holland and Arnett, report to ADD Ramirez.” Mullen picked up the phone from the console. “She’ll give you the leads on Gerald Brady’s last known location and his personnel file. Phone numbers, addresses, relatives. It’s imperative we track down the agent.”

“Roger that.” Roman’s normally boisterous voice was solemn. Focused.

The SSA peeked out the passenger window at Sheriff Gould and the deputies still lingering around the safe house. “We stay in constant connection. No one makes a move without my approval and a fully informed team. Two very dangerous individuals are running around with ill intent. We need to figure out the hows, the whys, and the wheres.”

Autumn envisioned Wagner Schull’s maniacal stare. Alta’s bloodthirsty smile.

They weren’t seeking criminals today. They were hunting down monsters.

6

I stared at the screen of my burner phone, rereading the text from my darling associate, Margaret “Margie” Bethune. I was convinced the Lord had sent her straight to me.

How else could anyone explain the ease with which I’d navigated my escape from prison?

Margie had seen the light and truth of my God-given mission. Her love and devotion had set me free, and she’d even provided a safe harbor, stowing me away in the barn on the farm where she lived.

An inheritance from her grandparents, the abundance of land was an acquisition that Margie said she’d never known quite what to do with. After we became acquainted and she committed herself to my vision, she was certain God had given her the land to serve as my shelter in an arduous storm.

At this moment, however, Margie was having a crisis of faith. Her words were just short of accusatory.

You never said you were going to kill Morris. That wasn’t a part of the plan. He was on our side. He trusted you.

Morris Snow had indeed trusted me. He’d believed I’d make him a very wealthy man, and only the Lord knew all the evil Morris planned to create with his newfound fortune. The prison guard was greedy and traitorous.

Margie knew this. Knew he was dirty and could be bought. That was why we’d chosen him as an accomplice. She was also well aware I was a penniless man, and all Morris would earn was the honor of having played a part in something much grander than he ever could’ve imagined.

Used tools—especially dirty ones—were best disposed of after a job was done.

I typed my response.

Morris couldn’t be trusted. The second he realized I had no fortune to offer, he would’ve turned on us. He knew entirely too much.

Margie’s reply was immediate.

I know too much. Are you going to kill me?

A low grumble of aggravation escaped my mouth. This was becoming obnoxious. Margie was a true believer. Or so I’d thought.

Why was she questioning me now over the disposal of a horrible man like Morris Snow?

Assuring Margie of my undying appreciation and love for her had better quell the storm of her concerns. At least temporarily.

I would never hurt you. And I can promise that you are everything to me. Morris would’ve eventually put you in danger, and I could not allow that. The Lord would not allow that.

I had to keep Margie on my side, as I wasn’t entirely sure whether I’d need her again. Finding kindred spirits who truly grasped the high stakes of my calling was no easy feat.

My reassurances seemed to do the trick.

You’re right. Morris would’ve betrayed us. Betrayed the Lord. Thank you for keeping me safe, Wagner.

I grinned. That was more like the Margie I’d come to hold so dear.

What I would never tell her was that if she became a stumbling block in my mission, I wouldn’t hesitate to take her out just as quickly as I’d eliminated Morris Snow.

“I have a purpose, Margie,” I murmured to myself, relaxing into the worn leather armchair she’d brought to the barn for me. “I must eradicate evil. I must finish what I started.”

Crossfire from a random gun battle between Mafia warlords had taken my precious family from me ten years ago. My wife and four children lost in the blink of an eye.

At first, I’d been a soul smothered in grief, but eventually, I’d come to understand why I’d been spared and left to wander this planet alone.

Mobsters and their affiliates had been wreaking unchecked havoc and spreading their poisonous bloodlust to the far corners of the earth for centuries. That such organizations still existed was pure insanity.

I will end this madness.

I will crucify them all.

Before I was caught by the FBI, I’d managed to pare down the Fabbri family to only two remaining Mafia sinners.

But now I was free, and the first thing I would do was complete my quest to end the curse of the Fabbri bloodline.

Yet another message alert sounded, igniting a flame of annoyance in my chest. I’d rather hoped Margie and I were done with this conversation.

There’s something you should know. We’ve gotten word at the prison that Alta Fabbri is on the loose. She somehow found the safe house where Charity Atkins was staying with her mother and daughter. Killed the LEO watching over them and the mother. Took Charity and Marisol with her.

“No.” I stood, controlling the urge to hurl the phone at the wood slab walls. “No, no, no!”

How was I to carry out my mission if Alta fled the country with Marisol in tow? Charity Atkins wasn’t much of a concern to me, but her child was the hell spawn of Kevin Fabbri.

Marisol, just like deplorable Aunt Alta, had to die.

The rest of the world would judge me as barbaric. What kind of a man killed a one-year-old child?

But I had the eyes of God himself. And they foretold a future that I could not let happen.

The child would grow. And the evil coursing through her veins would manifest. Marisol would become the monster she was conceived to be.

A bloodthirsty fiend incapable of anything else.

Alta wasn’t taking that child away from me. If anything, the jezebel had made my purpose easier by placing my final two targets in such close proximity to each other.

And I knew exactly how to thank her.

7

Winter swirled her coffee around in the bottom of her mug. One last swig from what had to be her sixth cup.

She hadn’t missed the twinkle of excitement in Autumn’s emerald-green eyes when she’d urged Dr. Plath to stay and have breakfast in her place. Something about Jewel was different—interesting—in a way that Winter would’ve picked up on even if she’d missed Autumn’s cues.

Her bestie had left the two of them together for a reason, and Winter was realizing that was bigger than them both.

Maybe Jewel had felt it too. After all, the two near strangers had been sitting across from each other chatting nonstop for several hours now. And they’d discussed a string of topics, hitting them head-on, except the one Winter was most interested in. She sensed she had to tread with care, but no way was she leaving her seat across from Dr. Jewel Plath without learning everything she could about the tea party case and the good doctor’s involvement.

“So you just had a hunch that the old man who lived in that apartment was dead and stuffed in a freezer on the premises?”

Jewel’s hazel eyes lifted slowly to meet Winter’s. “I mean, the apartment seemed to have been lived in, so that deduction, that she’d taken it by force, was logical. Based on Ms. Roth’s other extreme actions and methodology, anyone paying attention would’ve reasoned the same.”

Winter simply nodded, listening attentively, so Jewel would continue.

“After suppressing a childhood full of physical and psychological torture, Tulip Roth had tried to recreate one of the few happy memories spent with her sister when they were small children. She escaped from her mental health facility and found unwilling participants to act as guests at her tea party.” Jewel shrugged as if anyone in the world could’ve gotten inside Roth’s mind, decoded all her actions.

“You’re right. The federal agents certainly wouldn’t have missed signs of a current occupant, and Tulip Roth murdering someone would’ve been an immediate possibility.” Winter noted the nervous tremble in the M.E.’s hands as she clasped them together. “But you weren’t theorizing. You were convinced the old man was deceased and that his body was somewhere inside the teahouse.”

Easy, Winter. This isn’t an interrogation room at the field office.

“I was convinced, yes.” Jewel sipped on her third or maybe fourth cup of coffee. “Sometimes, we just know what we know, right? The truth is too loud for us to ignore. Everybody gets hunches on occasion.”

“Right. Sure.” Winter leaned back against the booth. “I understand what you’re saying better than you realize. But I’m kind of an odd duck. Not sure the average citizen really does get those kinds of gut feelings on the regular.”

Jewel tilted her head, flashing a sheepish grin and looking more like a high school girl than a licensed professional. “Are you saying I’m abnormal?”

“Hey.” Sugar McKaid approached with a hand on her hip and a pencil poking out of her messy, bleached-blond bun. “Nothing wrong with being a weirdo. You own it, girl. Just own it.”

Winter sputtered out a laugh while Jewel gazed up at her blankly, unaware or unable to immediately respond. “Um.” The M.E. managed a smile. “Thank you?”

“You got it.” Sugar waved a finger in a circle. “I just started my shift and came over to say hi. But you ladies need anything else? Breakfast menu’s closed, but there’s plenty of lunch. Or I could whip up some cocktails. It’s Saturday. Why not say eff it and day drink? Life is short.”

Jewel chuckled along with Winter this time. “It’s a nice thought, but I really should be getting to the office.”

“On the weekend?” Sugar folded her arms across her chest. “What do you do?”

Though her personal experience with Sugar was limited, Winter knew of her boisterous and feisty personality. The woman was something of a handful, but Autumn had a giant soft spot for her.

In turn, Winter had developed one as well.

“Dr. Plath, this is Sugar, Autumn’s little sister’s roomie. Dr. Plath is a medical examiner.”

Jewel smiled up at Sugar.

“Oh, wow. No way. So you work with…dead bodies…every single day?” Sugar shook her head. “That would freak me out so bad. Do you ever feel like their ghosts are around?”

Jewel flashed a glance at Winter before turning back to Sugar. “No. Never.” A bead of sweat had formed on her brow.

Winter decided to save the doctor from further probing. “Hey, Sugar? I think we’re good for now.”

“Sure thing. Grab me if you need anything else.” Sugar took the hint and set off for the counter.

Winter waited until she was sure the server was out of earshot. “Sounds like you don’t believe in ghosts, Dr. Plath.”

“Jewel,” her companion protested. “I told you to call me Jewel. And no, I don’t believe in anything that can’t be scientifically proven.”

Oh, really? Boy, have you met up with the wrong crowd.

“That’s fair. You are a doctor, after all.” Winter took a final sip of her water. “But I’m wondering what the scientific explanation is for that ‘gut instinct’ you had about the tea party victim? Why was that truth, in particular, so loud? Scientifically, I mean.”

Freezing in place, Jewel held Winter’s gaze. She waited, as though calculating her response on some inner computer of possible outcomes. “I’m afraid I don’t have the answer to that question. Not yet anyway.”

So the doc is trying to figure things out…because she knows there’s something there to figure out.

Jewel squared her shoulders and grabbed her purse, tossing some bills on the table.

“We took care of this earlier. You’re all set.”

“For the tip, then.” She stood, corkscrew curls falling forward as she reached a hand toward Winter. “It was great to meet you. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

Maybe. If you move to Austin.

“Thanks for the company.” Winter wanted more answers but wasn’t sure how to vocalize her curiosity without scaring the woman away. “Autumn was right. You are interesting.”

Jewel’s lips quirked. “That’s just a nice way of saying I’m a weirdo, according to Sugar over there. But no worries.” She smiled, pulling her purse strap over her shoulder. “I can own it.”

Watching the doctor saunter toward the door—owning it—Winter laughed as she considered ordering one more coffee to go. Nothing helped her concentrate like a piping hot mocha latte, and she had a lot of thinking to do. Analyzing. Mostly concerning Aiden’s murder, the puzzling paperwork related to his case, and the danger that Autumn was in simply by having been so important to Aiden.

But now she had new musings too.

“Sometimes we just know what we know, right? The truth is too loud for us to ignore.”

Winter glanced at the exit and Jewel’s retreating form again, realizing if she let the woman slip away now, she’d be kicking herself for days. She stood and hustled toward her. “Hey, Doc. On second thought, maybe we keep chatting for a bit? You got anything at work you have to deal with immediately?”

Freezing in her retreat, Jewel turned back around. She studied Winter carefully, as if she knew stepping back into the conversation now meant going in a different direction altogether. “Um. No. Just paperwork.” The M.E. seemed to fumble for words as she made her decision. “I guess I could stay a little longer. Give me a few minutes to run to my car and grab my work phone so I can check some messages.”

“Perfect. I’ll be right here.”

The doctor vanished, and Winter returned to their booth, hoping Jewel wasn’t just trying to make her escape and never come back.

She had little time to fret before a new face appeared at the door.

She’d have recognized that face anywhere. Huge family resemblance between Keaton and his younger sister, Hailey, who’d moved to Richmond to begin her career as a police officer.

The two of them could be freaking twins.

After pulling the door open, Hailey looked around the bar with a furrowed brow. “Dammit.”

“Hey.” Winter held up a hand.

Hailey approached her.

“Aren’t you Keaton Holland’s sister?”

Hailey blinked in recognition. “Yeah. Officer Hailey Holland. And you’re Special Agent Winter Black. Former, I mean. I saw you at the…at the…funeral.”

Swallowing the instant rush of sadness in her chest, Winter nodded. “I saw you too. I used to work with your brother on occasion.”

Hailey grinned, stepping closer to Winter’s table. “You have my deepest apologies.”

Winter laughed, noting Hailey didn’t seem intimidated at all.

Unlike Keaton, who could barely hold eye contact with me for more than two seconds in the beginning.

“You looked worried when you busted in here.” Winter’s long-standing law enforcement instincts wouldn’t allow her to let the matter go. “Everything okay?”

Hailey’s expression dropped. “I’m not sure, actually. I was supposed to meet Keat here for lunch, but I’ve gotten two pretty major APBs on the radio this morning, and I’m thinking his team has to be handling them. I mean, he only doesn’t answer my calls when he can’t answer.”

Instantly concerned, Winter checked her phone to make sure she hadn’t missed a text or call from Autumn.

Nothing. If Keaton’s busy, Autumn’s busy. Same team. Same problems.

Winter fought the urge to ask who the all-points bulletins had been about. Alta Fabbri? Had the woman finally come out of hiding?

As if Hailey could read her mind, she dropped into the booth and lowered her voice. “Keep your head on a swivel. I know you’re close to Autumn, and she might have some danger coming her way.”

“Alta Fabbri?” The name shot past Winter’s lips without permission.

Hailey’s dark eyes widened with distress. “Yes. She’s on the move, and she’s taken Charity and Marisol Atkins with her.”

Shocked into silence, Winter realized that as far as saving Marisol from her unhinged aunt went, the team might already be too late.

Hailey interrupted her daze. “There’s more.”

“More?”

The young officer gave a reluctant nod. “Alta’s not the only one on the run. According to those APBs, Wagner Schull has escaped.”

Winter’s blood ran cold. “The Crucifier’s free?”

“Free. Armed. Dangerous.” Hailey pinched the bridge of her nose. “And likely on the hunt for Marisol and Alta. The Fabbris who got away.”

“Shit.” Winter took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to run out the door and join the team as they hunted.

The team I no longer belong to.

Hailey seemed to experience the same urge, gazing longingly outside. “‘Shit’ is right.”

Jewel reappeared at the entrance as promised, inspiring new plans in Winter’s brain. Maybe she wasn’t an FBI agent anymore, but she sure as hell knew how to get an investigation going when necessary.

8

Sun tugged at the passenger seat belt, chewing her lower lip and wondering how she’d ended up alone with Bree on the woman’s first day back with the BAU.

She’d always deeply respected Bree and had encountered no problems working alongside the seasoned, coolheaded agent. Yet past the unspoken “courteous colleagues” arrangement, they’d never had much of a friendship.

That’s fine. This isn’t Winter camp. We’re dealing with serial killers.

“You wanna place bets on which one we catch first?” Sun spoke the words without filtering the thought, but Bree didn’t so much as flinch.

“I could go either way.” Bree glanced at a slow-moving sedan as they zoomed past. “Both Alta and Schull are entirely too wrapped up in their vendettas to see clearly. Hatred’s going to get them caught and locked away for life. Or killed.”

Sun agreed. “Well, my guess is if he makes it out of this alive, Schull will have a different type of cell this time around. No playdates or sunshine for that bastard.”

Bree surprised her with a chuckle. “Yeah, I think that ship has sailed. If they found a hole deep enough for Justin Black, they’ll find another for the Crucifier.”

Shuddering, Sun refused to give the former nightmare of a human being a second thought. “I don’t see Schull allowing himself to be taken alive this time. He failed his mission once. Failing again might cause him to check out.”

“That’d be a damn shame.” An icy edge crept into Bree’s voice. “The amount of pain and suffering he’s caused…crucifying innocent human beings…is something he needs to sit with. For decades. Alone.”

The statement was true, but criminals didn’t always get what they deserved. And both agents knew it.

“We’ll do our best to keep him alive.” Sun offered Bree a nod of confidence. “Same goes for Alta.”

Bree swerved around a semi, keeping her foot on the gas. “And no one thinks it’s a bad idea to have Autumn on this case after what happened to Aiden?”

Sun had been waiting for that dreaded subject. Aiden Parrish. The brutal explosion. The unthinkable loss. The relentless anger.

The entire Bureau knew Alta Fabbri was guilty as sin.

“Not my place to say.” Sun lifted her hands in surrender. “Might be hard for you to believe, but I’m learning to keep my opinions to myself.”

Bree flashed her a grin. “That is hard to believe. And I’m not asking so we can dissect what’s happened and analyze Autumn’s every move. I worry about her being too broken by this case and by the Fabbris in general. Hunting Alta down will only add more pain to her trauma pile.”

“If we catch that woman,” Sun swallowed the bile rising in her throat, “we’ll at least get some justice, some peace, where Aiden’s murder is concerned. I think that’s what Autumn needs more than anything if she’s ever going to move on.”

“Careful, Sun.” Bree kept her eyes trained on the road. “I think you just gave me your opinion.”

Sun arched an eyebrow, peeking sideways at her freshly returned colleague. “Guess I can’t help it. I get where you’re coming from. We all care about Autumn, and we’re all grieving Aiden’s loss right along with her. It’s been…awful.”

As her voice wavered, Sun took a moment to steady herself. Autumn wasn’t the only one who’d lost Aiden. Wasn’t the only one who’d shared her life—or her bed, for that matter—with the man.

“Are you okay?” Bree’s tone radiated genuine warmth. “I’ve been around a long time, and I know what he was to you. All of what he was to you.”

Sun steadied herself, refusing to let the conversation morph into some type of impromptu therapy session. “I’m fine. And Autumn is bruised, but she isn’t broken. She’s tough. She’s determined. And I don’t think she’d stop hunting Alta even if they took her off the case.” She chewed her lip. “I don’t think I would either.”

Autumn’s phone buzzed in unison with Mullen’s as they arrived at the prison van site. “It’s Sun. They ran into an accident on the interstate. All lanes temporarily closed. They rerouted on backroads and estimate at least a half-hour delay.”

“It happens, unfortunately.” Mullen gestured ahead of them, braking to a slow stop. “We’ll go ahead and get this started without them. Catch them up when they arrive.”

“Got it.” As soon as Mullen shifted into park, Autumn bolted from the SUV, grateful that at least she and her supervisor could dive in. The scene before her screamed organized chaos, sending a welcome rush of adrenaline through her body like an electric shock.

Officers and forensic team members were scattered from the taped-off police van across the country road and down into the low-lying fields on both sides, hunting for any evidence they could find.

This kind of view had drawn Autumn from her original career as a forensic psychologist into the fast-paced world of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. With this job, she had no time for sitting still. No catching her breath. No getting bored.

The mental stimulation was as rewarding as it was challenging, and Autumn had been hooked from the beginning. She belonged with the BAU and was lucky to have found her niche.

But someone could’ve warned me about the whole “brutally losing the love of my life” part.

“Ma’am?” A slender man with a sandy-blond crew cut and a sheriff’s badge on his jacket approached her. “Sheriff Tobin Rapp.” He extended his hand.

Autumn swallowed her thoughts and shook it. “Special Agent Autumn Trent with the Richmond BAU. I’m here with⁠—”

“Supervisory Special Agent Gil Mullen.” The SSA’s gruff tone conveyed clear top dog energy. “What have your people been able to figure out, Sheriff Rapp?”

Leading them toward the vehicle, Sheriff Rapp waved a hand at the open driver’s side door. “That’s where we found Travon Goldstone. Took a bullet to the back of the head.”

As Mullen halted, Autumn stepped to his side and checked out the front cab. Blood spatter backed up Sheriff Rapp’s story, painting a gruesome picture of Goldstone’s fate. “He was looking out the window.”

And trusting that his colleague, Morris Snow, was not in cahoots with the psychopathic human luggage in the back.

“Poor bastard never saw it coming.” The sheriff stepped carefully around yellow markers toward the back of the van. “And here, as you can see all the blood from the stab wounds, is where Morris Snow was taken down. Shiv to the neck. Schull left the damn thing behind like he couldn’t care less if we got a fingerprint off it or not.”

Images of the Crucifier’s deranged grin flashed through Autumn’s brain. “He couldn’t care less. Wagner Schull doesn’t hide or deny the murders he commits. He believes they’re necessary. All of them.”

Sheriff Rapp studied her for a minute. “Good reason he was cuffed up in the back of a prison van to begin with. Left the cuffs behind too. Right there on the van floor by the ankle chains.” The sheriff clucked his tongue. “This is what happens when you make a deal with the devil like Snow did.”

Mullen gave a grunt and folded his arms across his chest. “Schull likely spared Snow from a lifetime in prison by killing him. No way the man could’ve lied his way out of this. The law would’ve caught up to him.”

“That does seem to be the way these situations usually go.” Sheriff Rapp pointed toward the grassy expanse of land to his right. “Schull fled into the south field. Clear path leading almost to the woods over yonder.”

“Almost?” Mullen didn’t miss the word for a second.

The sheriff nodded, holding up a hand to block the overhead sun while he gazed toward the trees. “Tracks fizzle out into some type of holy mess before the tree line starts. Looks like something he did on purpose to screw with us. And I hate to say it, but it’s working. Must’ve covered his actual tracks out, whichever way he went.”

Autumn narrowed her eyes in the direction Sheriff Rapp had pointed. “We’ll find them.” She met Mullen’s dark-eyed look, confident and determined.

Mullen nodded. “We will.”

Autumn shifted her gaze to the gravel shoulder of the road. “Could you show us where the path begins?”

“Of course.” The sheriff ambled away, motioning for them to follow. “It’s not hard to find. So obvious that we figured it’d lead us straight to him. Until it didn’t.”

Autumn spotted the abrupt break in the thigh-high grass. “I see it.”

“Yup.” Sheriff Rapp pulled a flashlight from his pocket and handed it to her. “Told you it was easy. Keep to the left and shine this down as you go. You’ll spot the prison sneaker tread right away. Then you’ll hit the point where we lost him. Unmistakable mess.”

Not wasting a second, Autumn led the way down the shallow ditch into the flat field. Pine-covered hills waited just ahead, a perfect hiding spot for a fugitive on the run. And if Schull had left a mess in the middle of his path, he likely wanted them to believe he’d never made it to the forest.

“There.” Mullen’s voice carried right behind her. “Clean tracks. Clear tread.”

Autumn continued moving forward, gaze fixed on the illuminated dirt. “Very clear. Schull wanted these tracks found.” She followed about twenty yards or so, just as Sheriff Rapp had indicated, before the tracks went nutty, splitting off in different directions.

It appeared Wagner Schull had run tight circles and then laps, crisscrossing his way back and forth through the spirals until the “trail” was nothing more than trampled grass and dead ends.

Mullen stood, hands on hips, peering into the woods. “Entirely too far to jump, and last I knew, Schull couldn’t fly. But he went somewhere, and there’s no un-trampling grass like this.”

Something about his words struck a chord in Autumn’s chest. “You’re right.” She turned, eyes locked on the treaded footsteps once again, following them back toward the road. Straight horizontal lines covered the prints from toe to heel, with only the shape giving any indication as to which way the person wearing the shoes was heading.

“He backed up.” She kept walking. “Slowly, carefully reused his path to return to the road and flee. It’s just about impossible to track him on the asphalt. Schull knew that.”

Mullen caught up to her, muttering under his breath before clearing his throat. “Why would he waste time with this ridiculous goose chase when he could just take off running down the highway?”

“Because he knew it’d take us longer to figure out what he’d done.” Autumn tapped at her wrist. “In the long run, it still bought him time. We haven’t even started looking for him yet. Not really. On foot, he might not have gotten far, but far enough. And there’s always the other possibility.”

“Someone picked him up.” Mullen spit out the exact words running through Autumn’s head. “No one would’ve picked up a hitchhiker in a prison uniform. He prepared this charade in the field, then got into a car with another accomplice.”

Autumn stopped at the ditch, turning to face her supervisor. “Exactly. I mean, how far was he going to get in an orange jumpsuit on foot?” She snarled. “Then again, there’s always the chance that Morris had a change of clothes ready for him.”

With people on the outside assisting him, anything could have happened next. Schull could be in a different state by now. On a plane. Out of the country.

“Either way, let’s get out of this damn field. He’s not out here.” Mullen charged up the side of the ditch. “We’ll speak with Sheriff Rapp and reroute Agents Ming and Stafford to the penitentiary. We all need to get our asses there now. I’m not buying that Snow pulled this off alone. We’re talking to everyone at that prison until somebody cracks.”

Autumn inhaled deeply through her nostrils and slowly blew out the breath, forcing herself to accept the plan. Every fiber of her being wanted to follow the Crucifier’s trail and nail the bastard. But without any clear indication of his direction, they had to dig deeper.

Mullen was right. Someone at the prison had to know something. Their team needed to get there and start asking questions. Time-consuming as it might be, interrogating the prison staff and any inmates who’d interacted with Wagner Schull could be the key to finding and stopping the monster before he could crucify anyone else.

Autumn was sure they’d find the rat and squeeze the truth out of them, and that person might have enough inside information to lead them to Wagner Schull.

And bringing that bastard back into custody would mean one less person in the world trying to kill little Marisol Atkins.

9

Autumn forced herself to sit in the metal folding chair next to Bree and gave up the rampant pacing she’d slipped into at some point since arriving at the prison. Three cups of black coffee and two interviews deep, the caffeine now buzzed through her brain, charging every thought with electric clarity.

“Well,” Bree tapped an impatient finger on the steel tabletop placed between them and the interviewee’s chair, “Correctional Officer Dumblediddle⁠—”

“Danverlittle,” Autumn corrected, smiling despite the high-stakes situation.

Bree didn’t even attempt to pretend that she’d flubbed the name on accident. “Right. Whatever. Correctional Officer Unfortunate Last Name was completely useless. He said he’d never spoken more than two words to Schull, and I believe him.”

“I do too.” Autumn had purposely brushed against the officer while showing him out of the room, sensing nothing more than boredom and annoyance. Likely at the interruption in his daily routine.

“And the officer before him? Peters?” Bree scanned Autumn’s face like her eyes were an X-ray machine. “I’ll be damned if he wasn’t telling the truth as well.”

Autumn hadn’t managed to touch Officer Peters, but her intuition told her the same. “He said that in his experience, Schull was an ideal inmate. Quiet. Compliant. Peters didn’t give off any I’m hiding something vibes. He seemed more concerned about missing his lunch break than anything else.”

Bree snorted out a laugh. “He mentioned that pimento-and-beef on rye twice. Twice.”

Though her own stomach had reached new rumbles-of-fury levels, Autumn couldn’t imagine stopping for food. “A good sandwich can be a religious experience if you literally have nothing tugging at your conscience.”

“Yeah, I get it. But even if they know absolutely nothing, it’s a little frustrating how unconcerned they both appeared to be in general.” Bree glanced over her shoulder. Their next interviewee would be arriving any second. “I mean, we’re talking about an escaped murderer whose favorite means of killing is brutal crucifixions of biblical proportions. Scarier than your run-of-the-mill weapon-wielding maniac.”

“But they’re used to dealing with the deranged.” Autumn thought of the numerous serial killers she’d encountered both as a forensic psychologist and a member of the BAU. “Just like we are. They’re calm because they’ve learned to be. Not necessarily because they don’t care.”

Bree sighed in agreement. “Yeah. Normal civilians would throw up at the thought of even talking to half the people we’ve had to hunt down and get personal with. But these people see it every day. Guess I’m being too hard on the officers.”

“You’re just frustrated.” Autumn kept her tone light. “It’s understandable. Maybe Mullen and Sun are having better luck across the hall.”

A double knock on the door alerted them to the arrival of their next interviewee.

“Agent Trent. Agent Stafford.” Associate Warden Ben Green—tall, lanky, and serious as the dead—stepped into the room, leading a cuffed prisoner behind him. “As listed on the itinerary you were given, this is Hindley Orgonne. He’s serving out a life sentence and took his lunch and yard time on the same schedule as Schull. Several of our correctional officers reported Orgonne and Schull as having frequent conversations.”

The associate warden had entered and exited with stone-cold professionalism each time a new interview began. Officers Danverlittle and Peters had exhibited a reined-in yet simmering sense of annoyance at being questioned by the Feds.

But Hindley Orgonne stepped into view with a blatant snarl curling his lips. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Two females?” He plopped his plump ass into the bolted-down chair across the interview table, allowing Associate Warden Green to cuff him to the holding bar with zero resistance.

Autumn narrowed her eyes, her previously neutral expression tightening into a stern mask. “Nearly twenty-five percent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s special agents are women, Mr. Orgonne. That includes my colleague, Special Agent Bree Stafford, and me, Special Agent Autumn Trent. Wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

The associate warden chuckled, breaking character for the first time since their arrival. “Behave, Orgonne. You’re talking to the big dogs now, and I’ll be watching you the entire time. That’s a promise. I’ll be right outside if you agents need anything.” He left the room, and the lock clicked as the door closed behind him.

Orgonne gave no response, pressing his lips together as Green disappeared. He turned his beady eyes on Autumn and Bree.

“Do you know why we’re here, Orgonne?” Autumn clasped her hands together, noting the slight tremor in her fingers and cursing herself for overdoing the coffee.

“Everybody knows why you’re here.” He scoffed, shaking his bald head. “Schull the psycho busted out of the prison van transporting him to super max. Don’t see what the hell that’s got to do with me. I’m still in cuffs, case you hadn’t noticed.”

Bree leaned forward, fixed on Orgonne like he was the most interesting man in the world. “We noticed. We’re pretty observant people, given our profession and training. I’m sure you know that, and we know there’s no way Wagner Schull managed his escape alone. Somebody in here knows something. Maybe that’s you.”

Orgonne scowled, stretching toward the table as far as his restraints allowed. “Thought the consensus was that Officer Snow helped him. I’ve dealt with a lot of correctional officers in my time, and Snow was a dipshit if I’ve ever seen one. Sounds like he paid for it too. With his life.”

“And what exactly leads you to believe that?” Autumn refused to confirm or deny the truth of Snow’s demise.

“Oh, come on.” He gave an aggravated roll of his head. “A place like this? Word travels fast. Big news like that always makes the rounds. Always.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen your share of everything in here, considering how long you’ve been a resident.” Autumn offered the inmate a pleasant smile. “You’re serving life for the murder of your wife and her lover, correct?”

“Not talking about that.” Orgonne gave a violent shake of his chin. “And I don’t have to.”

“You’re right. You don’t.” But Autumn knew the question would make Orgonne much more eager to talk about anything else. “How about Wagner Schull? Anything to say about him? Sounds like the two of you were regular conversationalists when you weren’t locked up in your cages.”

Orgonne’s features twisted with insult. “When you’re at the zoo, you talk to the baboons because there ain’t no other choices. A man’s gotta attempt to keep his sanity, you know.”

Impressed with the valid point, Autumn pretended to back off. “Fair enough. I can imagine quite a bit of loneliness comes with a sentence like yours. Probably not a lot of friends and family making frequent visits.”

“Everyone took her side.” Orgonne spoke through gritted teeth. “Like she was some holy saint who didn’t have it coming. I promise you, she got what she deserved. And I don’t recall a single visit with anyone from the outside since the day they threw me behind bars.”

Bree tilted her head, nodding as though she couldn’t be more interested or sympathetic. “So you interact with what you’re given. We get it. Doesn’t mean you and Schull were best friends or anything. But maybe he mentioned a thing or two to you that seemed a little off.”

Orgonne laughed out loud. “More off than nailing his victims to crosses like a damn medieval nightmare freak show? The guy’s sick. Sicker than most. I certainly wasn’t attempting anything beyond small talk.”

“And yet you were pegged as the one he talked to the most.” Autumn leaned back in her chair. She wanted to outright call bullshit but needed a different tactic. “Maybe you know and maybe you don’t, but Wagner Schull believes himself to be a man chosen by God. On a holy mission. When he’s caught, he won’t be protecting anyone he manipulated into helping him escape.”

Saying nothing, Orgonne averted his gaze.

That made you uncomfortable, didn’t it?

“Cooperating with us now,” Autumn pressed harder while Orgonne was off balance, “might spare you from any consequences when we bring Schull in. Lots of ways the court could punish you, but I’m assuming the warden might get creative all on his own with this particular case. Ever been in solitary confinement?”

She’d hit the target dead center.

Hindley Orgonne’s disdainful expression disappeared, replaced with earnest, borderline desperate eyes. “I’m not going to solitary for that soulless maniac. I had no part…none…in Schull’s escape. All I did was give him a little inside information on the Fabbris.”

10

Autumn and Bree exchanged alarmed glances. “Everyone Wagner Schull could’ve come into contact with in the prison had their background checked and double-checked to ensure they had no links to the Fabbri crime family before Schull was brought on the grounds. How could you possibly have such information?”

Something entirely too close to a smirk spread across Orgonne’s face, making him appear more smackable than ever. “You government types like to think every damn thing that happens in this country is on record somehow, some way. That you couldn’t possibly miss anything. It’s an idiotic, arrogant assumption and the main reason you all chase your tails like drunk donkeys from time to time.”

Autumn ground her teeth together. “Okay. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me why you feel that way?”

“When I was younger, I worked a lot of construction. Odd jobs that I often got paid under the table for. You know, off-the-books gigs that make the powers that be so damn angry. One of those jobs was building a trio of cabins across our dear state of Virginia for some rich asshole.”

Bree scribbled notes across a small pad of paper while Autumn held Orgonne’s gaze.

He shrugged as much as his restraints allowed. “We didn’t know who the guy was. Our supervisor wouldn’t even tell us his own last name. Just told us to call him Rob. Super nice guy. Family man. We all loved Rob, and working for him was easy, because he wasn’t a dick like ’most every other site manager in the world.”

“Let me guess.” Bree paused her note-taking. “Rob’s last name ended up being Fabbri.”

“Nope.” Orgonne flashed her a smug grin. “Wrong. But one day, I overheard Rob on the phone when he thought we’d all left the building site. He was talking to the big boss, or so I figured by how serious he was. Kept calling the guy Mr. Fabbri and sounded scared as shit about keeping him happy. Something about that call made my damn blood run cold.”

Autumn raised an eyebrow. “Well, your instincts were spot-on there.”

“You’re telling me. I went home that night and looked the Fabbris up on the computer. A known crime family. Mobsters. I was scared as shit.” Orgonne shuddered at the memory. “But I wasn’t about to quit the gig and piss the big man off. We finished the cabins, and everyone went their separate ways.”

“But that wasn’t the end of it.” Bree waved a hand at the inmate. “Continue.”

“Sure as hell wasn’t.” Orgonne’s jaw tightened. “A week later, Rob’s obituary showed up in the news alongside his entire family’s. I recognized his picture right away. Rob Botley, his wife, his two young kids, and his father-in-law. All shot while sleeping in what the news called a break-in, robbery type of thing. Sounded like more of an execution to me. You can look it up.”

Bree’s fingers flew across her phone. “Already on it.” She paused for a second before showing the screen to Autumn. “He’s telling the truth.”

“You believed at the time that the Fabbris were responsible?” Autumn didn’t doubt the theory for a second.

“Damn right I did.” Orgonne nearly shouted the reply. “Rob knew the Fabbri guy’s name, and I’m guessing that made him a loose end. Period. He made sure Rob and his family weren’t ever gonna mention the Fabbri name again.”

Autumn shoved a renegade strand of hair behind her ear. “And it never occurred to you to go to the police with that information?”

“And get my own family killed?” Orgonne shook his head. “How stupid would I have had to be to do that? Rob’s family getting wiped out was a clear message to anyone else who might’ve known about the job. And that message was ‘shut the fuck up or else.’”

“You sound awfully concerned for your own family, but let’s not forget that your wife died at your hands.” Autumn crossed her arms. “Or had you already killed her?”

“She was still alive then.” Orgonne’s brows joined each other as he cast a hateful gaze Autumn’s way. “And like I said, when I killed her, she deserved it. At one time, I loved her very much. And even if I hadn’t, I had three little ones of my own to protect.”

Not even one of Orgonne’s kids had ever come to see him. That had to sting.

“Not sure if either of you have children,” his gaze slid from Autumn to Bree, “but if you do, you know their safety is about the only damn thing you can focus on from the day they’re born. They just dig right under your skin like splinters. And if they’re ever threatened, you become this damn feral beast. No controlling it.”

Autumn wondered if maybe Orgonne hadn’t opened up a bit more than he’d meant to. “Did you kill your wife to protect your children, Hindley? Was she harming them in some way? Because I didn’t see that in your case files.”

Recoiling at the realization that he’d entered territory he’d been hell-bent on avoiding, Orgonne said nothing.

“That’s why she deserved it?” Bree prodded a little further. “For your kids’ sake?”

“Doesn’t make one fucking shit of a difference now. All that matters is she didn’t get to raise them.” He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw flexing. “When the Fabbri massacre made the news, I was happy. Bastard got what he deserved. And when Schull showed up here, having killed two of the surviving little Fabbri shits and claiming there were more, I was inspired to share what I knew. Maybe gain a little justice for Rob and his family.”

“Share that the Fabbri family had committed multiple murders?” Bree took the question from Autumn’s lips. “Schull already knew that. Hence his own murders. How did that information help Rob’s family?”

Orgonne chuckled, a hoarse and mirthless sound. “I didn’t just tell him what Fabbri had done. I still remembered how to get to the cabins. We knew what they were when we were building them. Peepholes instead of windows. Reinforced doors. Weird hidden compartments in every room.”

“I’m guessing they weren’t meant for family vacations.” Autumn began to see the full picture.

“You guessed right, Red.” Orgonne nodded, smiling like he considered himself the wisest man in the world. “Safe houses. Stash houses. For money or drugs or hostages or hiding. And I knew the approximate addresses. It all seemed kinda meant to be, and I hoped Schull and his crazy ass might get a chance to finish the job someday.”

“Eye for an eye, huh?” Bree’s words were laced with disgust. “That’ll fix it.”

“You’re damn right it will,” Orgonne returned defiantly. “Justice means different things to different people, sweetie. Fabbri’s family deserves exactly what Rob’s family got.”

Autumn swallowed the scream creeping up her throat. “Mr. Orgonne, are you aware that one of Wagner Schull’s intended targets, one of the ‘little surviving Fabbri shits,’ is a one-year-old girl? Her name is Marisol. She’s Maury Fabbri’s granddaughter, and Schull intends to kill her. A baby.”

Orgonne took an audible gulp, paling slightly. “I didn’t…I did not…he never said there was a baby involved.”

“And now he’s free.” Autumn stretched across the table until mere inches separated their faces. “Tell me how this happened. How did you help him escape?”

“I didn’t.” Orgonne pulled away. “I don’t have that kind of power. Yes, I told him what I knew, and yes, I hoped he’d even out the scales. Someday. But I had nothing to do with his escape. Didn’t know shit about it. Why in the living hell would I still be here if I knew how to get out? Does that make any sense at all?”

Autumn didn’t have an argument for that. And without grabbing his hand to find out the truth, she was inclined to believe Orgonne.

But she had something more important to focus on, regardless.

The stash houses.

“These cabins you built. The ones you still remember the addresses of.” Autumn pulled a prison-approved pen from her jacket pocket. “We’re going to need you to write those down. They’re safe houses specifically built for the Fabbri family, and Alta Fabbri could be headed to one of them with Marisol right now. No doubt Wagner Schull’s thinking the same. Tell us where they are. Help us save that child.”

Orgonne lowered his voice to a near whisper. “I can’t. I won’t.”

Bree smacked a hand on the table. “You have children. How can you say that?”

“Maybe you’re looking at solitary after all.” Autumn added the threat that had seemingly triggered the inmate’s confession to begin with.

“You might be right. Maybe I’m destined for a prison closet or worse.” Hindley Orgonne flexed his jaw, signaling he was done talking. “I wouldn’t go to solitary for Schull’s crazy ass. But I’ll go there happily to keep my kids off a fucking cross.”

11

Charity peered out the window from her assigned spot in the back seat, the weight of the world on her shoulders as the rural Virginia scenery flashed by.

Marisol clutched her finger, staring up at her mother with those big brown eyes that made Charity feel like she might break in two.

She’s counting on me to keep her alive and safe. And all I’ve done is stand by while my mother was gunned down like an animal.

The possibility that she wouldn’t be able to protect Marisol bounced around inside her brain like a doomsday drumbeat.

Yes, Charity was still alive, as was Marisol.

But for how long?

Charity envisioned Marisol crawling away from Alta as the unhinged woman followed, wielding a knife slick with Charity’s blood. Alta had threatened multiple times to dispose of the baby, and she was certainly more than capable.

Even if she doesn’t kill her, what if Marisol dies from neglect?

Maybe Alta would leave her on the side of the road after growing tired of her crying. Or inside a hot car while she went to get her nails done. Even simply not feeding the baby enough or properly could result in malnutrition and eventual death.

Alta glanced at her in the rearview mirror, her soulless gaze sending fresh waves of terror through Charity’s bones. “We’ll be switching cars again soon. You know your part. Get the baby in and out. No fuss. No hassle. That’s the only way you keep living. Got it?”

“Yes.” Charity spoke the word as clearly as possible. The last vehicle swap they’d made had been in an abandoned gas station parking lot off a deserted country road surrounded by overgrown bushes and trees. It wouldn’t have mattered if Charity had screamed at the top of her lungs.

No one would’ve heard her, and Alta knew it.

Regardless, Charity would do as she was told. No matter what. As long as it kept her daughter safe.

And maybe I’ll have a chance to escape. Alta’s just one person. She’ll get tired. She’ll let her guard down eventually. Probably.

True for a normal person, but Alta seemed to be fueled by something extra. Some type of evil, supernatural adrenaline.

Or maybe just pure hatred kept the woman going.

“I’m considering letting you live in general.” Alta spoke again in a tone that could almost be mistaken for friendly. “If you cooperate. Follow instructions. Maybe I’ll let you help raise that little brat back there. But make no mistake, Charity. She’ll never be your child again. You’ll be raising her as a Fabbri, because that’s what she is. She belonged to Kevin, and now that he’s gone…now that everyone’s gone…she belongs to me.”

A spark of rebellion flamed in Charity’s chest. “So the fact that I’m her mother, that she came out of my body, just doesn’t matter? She doesn’t belong to me too?”

“Does a hammer belong to the toolbox or the carpenter?” Alta’s venom returned in full. “You carried her. You did your job. But she was always Kevin’s.”

Charity bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood. Arguing with a woman who’d just murdered a federal agent and an innocent middle-aged woman with no hesitation, no remorse, was a bad idea.

But the thought that her baby belonged to the son of a bitch who’d knocked her up and left her and Marisol to fend for themselves without so much as a second glance was infuriating.

Against her better judgment, Charity spoke her mind. “Kevin never loved Marisol. She’s a person. Not a piece of property. And he didn’t want anything to do with her. She was never his.”

“Watch your step,” Alta growled, holding up a finger of warning, “or I’ll shoot you in the head right now. Spray your brains all over that baby and let her soak in them. You are not allowed to speak ill of my family. I don’t care how many times Kevin crawled on top of you. His life meant more than yours ever could. He was a part of something powerful.”

Charity jutted out her chin. “So powerful, he spent his entire childhood in hiding.”

Alta pulled the gun from her lap and held it up as they raced down the highway. “Do you think I’m kidding? You need to shut your smart mouth before I blow it off your face. He was in hiding because of his power. My family comes from greatness. And regardless of how bad the Feds screwed up, regardless of who they let die, I’m going to put the Fabbri name back on top.”

“But the entire FBI will be looking for you now that you killed Agent Hayne and my…” Charity wondered if Alta really would shoot her while driving ninety miles an hour.

“Your mommy.” Alta giggled like a middle school girl. “I killed your mommy, Charity. And you know what’s great about being part of a powerful family? The insanely powerful connections that come with it. I couldn’t give a shit about the Feds and their hunt. You, me, and that kid back there? We’re going to disappear, and they can do nothing to stop it.”

Was it really that simple?

Charity worried Alta might be telling the truth. After all, she’d been able to track down their safe house in the middle of absolutely nowhere and take out a trained professional in minutes. She had to have connections.

“Are we…leaving the country?” Charity tested the waters, unsure of just how much Alta might reveal.

If Alta managed to get them out of the United States, what were the odds they’d ever be rescued? Who would she even turn to if she managed to escape in a country where she didn’t know a soul and might not even speak the language?

Even if she made some heroic escape, she had no way of explaining herself or her situation. And how would she know who to trust even if someone did attempt to help her? Possibly she’d end up trafficked or in an equally dangerous predicament as the one she’d fled.

“Don’t you worry about where we’re going.” Alta shut the inquiry down calmly, replacing the gun in her lap. “Just keep taking care of that kid, rent-a-nanny. That’s the only reason you’re here, and the only reason you matter at all from this point forward.”

Charity fought back tears. As long as she remained Alta’s prisoner, the statement was completely true.

12

Keaton brought the SUV to a stop in front of Gerald Brady’s impressive suburban home. The structure boasted three stories of stark white siding with multiple decorative brick columns and a gargantuan picture window view from both the first and second floors. Wrought iron fencing encased the sides, leading to a backyard, where the tip of an in-ground swimming pool peeked out from the home’s west end.

Roman let out a low whistle. “Maybe Brady just decided to play hooky. It’d probably suck to leave this place every single day.”

“His wife said he hasn’t been home since last night.” Keaton opened the driver’s side door and grabbed his phone from the console. “But it’s hard to imagine running away from a house this nice.”

ADD Cassidy Ramirez had pulled everything the Bureau had on Gerald Brady by the time Keaton and Roman entered her office. The plethora of information about Brady’s private life had reinforced the reality of the microscope all federal agents lived under, but Keaton was unsurprised and unbothered.

It didn’t matter how closely you were watched if you had nothing to hide.

Regardless of the mountain of intelligence on Gerald Brady, Cassidy had made it very clear that they were to start with the simplest, most basic of squares.

The spouse.

“You think she’ll really cooperate with us?” Roman pushed his own door open. “Not sure I’d throw my husband under the bus if it meant putting all this at stake.”

Keaton admired the well-kept lawn and perfectly trimmed hedges lining the driveway. “I guess it’ll depend on what kind of a person Mrs. Brady is. Let’s go.”

He led the way up a neatly paved lane stretching from the sidewalk across the front yard and all the way to the bright-red double doors. Over the phone, Virginia Brady had said she was more than willing to speak with them and had seemed nothing short of polite, despite the concerning circumstances regarding her husband’s whereabouts.

Phone calls are one thing. An in-person conversation is much harder to fake.

Roman gave the doorbell a quick press, stepping back as a series of harmonizing chimes echoed through the interior. A steady click-clack of heels grew louder until the front door handle turned and the red doors opened wide.

“Hi. I’m Ginny Brady.” The smiling woman before them was nearly six feet tall, though her pointed-toe stilettos accounted for at least three inches of that height. She refrained from offering a handshake, instead patting at her perfectly coifed blond bob.

Keaton noted Ginny’s trembling red lips and wagered that she was more nervous than standoffish. “Hello, Mrs. Brady. I’m Special Agent Keaton Holland. I spoke with you on the phone earlier. This is Special Agent Roman Arnett.”

“Please, call me Ginny. And do come in.” She proceeded to lead them down a wide hallway to the first door on the right. “Have a seat wherever you’d like. Could I get either of you some water? Coffee? Iced tea?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Keaton chose the sofa closest to the door, allowing himself only a moment to be impressed by the expansive room and top-of-the-line decor of the Bradys’ living room. “We just have a few questions, and to be honest, we’re in a bit of a hurry. It’s very important that we find your husband, Mrs. Brady.”

She smiled again, her red-rimmed eyes betraying the gravity of her husband’s situation. All the makeup in the world couldn’t hide sadness or betrayal. “Ginny. It’s Ginny. And of course. Well, like I told you, Gerald hasn’t been home since last night. He went out to grab something from the grocery store and just…didn’t come back.”

“Did you call him immediately once you realized he was missing or wait until this morning?” Roman took a seat beside Keaton, keeping his attention trained on Ginny, even though Keaton was certain his colleague was every bit as wowed by the extravagance of Agent Brady’s home.

“Honestly?” She glided toward a chaise lounge, smoothing her skirt as she perched on the chair like a frightened bird. “I didn’t realize he was actually missing until this morning. I usually go to bed before him, and I take prescribed medicine for insomnia. I only noticed his absence when I woke to my alarm clock and saw that his side of the bed wasn’t mussed at all.”

Keaton double-checked his notes. “I understand you have five children with Agent Brady. Did any of them see or hear anything that could indicate where he was going or why?”

Ginny’s lips turned downward. “We do have five children. Two of them, the twins, are away at college, and the younger three are all currently enrolled in boarding school. All our children have attended the same boarding school upstate for the entirety of their academic careers. So, you see, none of them are here or know anything about this just yet.”

Of course, they would need to verify that claim too. Maybe all five of the Brady children were aware their father was gone. Highly unlikely, but maybe they were his mini accomplices. What struck Keaton more was that the Bradys had created so many offspring only to send them all away for the majority of the year.

“So it’s just you and Gerald alone in this big house for the most part. Has your husband been displaying any odd behavior recently?” Keaton was determined to draw whatever insight he could from Ginny while they had the chance. “Saying or doing anything suspicious or just off in general?”

Ginny lowered her gaze to the floor. “He’s acted the same as always. Irritable. But never mean. You must understand there’s a long history of my husband and my parents…not seeing eye to eye. My parents have always been a bit overly involved in our lives, and Gerry only put up with it for my sake. Over the years, it turned him sour. It’s my fault.”

Keaton exchanged a glance with Roman. “It’s your fault that your husband made nice with the parents of the woman he chose to marry? He built a family with you, fully aware of the situation with his in-laws, whatever it might be. I don’t see how that’s your fault.”

“I’m a trust fund baby.” Ginny put an exquisitely manicured hand to her forehead as if the words pained her. “The life we have, the lifestyle I prefer to keep, has always been dependent on keeping my parents happy. I suppose it was worth it in the beginning when he was madly in love with me. But you know how that goes. After nearly three decades of marriage, the shine dulls.”

Roman whirled a finger over his head. “This lifestyle benefited Gerald as well. He chose to stay and create a family with you. No reason to blame yourself for that.”

Ginny emitted a mirthless chuckle. “What I blame myself for really doesn’t matter now, does it? I’m sure you’re not here because my husband didn’t clock in for work today. He must’ve done something, or you suspect he’s done something, for two of his federal colleagues to show up at my front door. So what is it? What did Gerry do?”

Knowing he couldn’t answer the question, Keaton attempted a different approach. “All we’re at liberty to say is that it’s imperative for us to find him as soon as possible. If you have even a hint of an idea where he might’ve gone⁠—”

“He took one of my credit cards.” Ginny picked up a cell phone from the cushion beside her and swiped furiously at the screen. “I checked my purse this morning, and sure enough, the Platinum was gone. There’s a charge at a gas station last night all the way by the interstate and two more at separate…separate…”

“Separate what?” Keaton kept his tone as calm and reassuring as possible, though he wanted to yank the phone from her hands and check himself.

“Motels.” She flipped her phone toward them, showing the screen. “I think maybe he’s holed up with prostitutes. The motels are both in run-down neighborhoods. Opposite edges of Richmond. Maybe he bought drugs at one and hookers at the other. I don’t know.”

Ginny had obviously spiraled deep into what she viewed as the worst-case scenario. Keaton wondered how the woman would feel when she found out the actual nature of Brady’s betrayal.

Roman tilted his head, examining Ginny’s phone alongside Keaton. “You didn’t think to maybe open with this information?”

Keaton shot him a sharp look. The question reeked of accusation, and they weren’t there to put her on trial. Not yet.

“I don’t actually know for sure that he’s at either establishment or if this was some sort of midlife crisis. I was hoping he and I could get past it.” Ginny’s cheeks flushed a deep cherry red. “I thought maybe you two would tell me something that made the motel rooms make sense. Maybe some type of stakeout or something that he failed to tell me about. But I can see that’s not the case.”

The open catalog of recent charges to Ginny’s credit card wasn’t concrete evidence of Brady’s whereabouts, but it certainly gave them somewhere to start searching.

Keaton pulled his phone from his pocket and photographed the screen. “We’ll need your account number and card details.”

Ginny nodded as tears dripped down her cheeks, creating a zebra pattern through her mask of makeup. “I know you can’t tell me what he did.” She met Keaton’s gaze with a trembling chin. “But I’m not stupid. Gerry did something very, very bad.”

13

Relaxing in the refuge Margie had provided on her farm was becoming increasingly difficult.

I walked to the edge of the barn loft, resting my elbows on the ledge overlooking the expansive floor. For the most part, the barn was completely cleaned up. No lingering smells of manure or stacks of moldy hay bales.

Just a few piles of wood neatly stockpiled in the far corner.

Time certainly wasn’t on my side, but the urge to create crosses for the remaining Fabbris sent chills through my body. What beauty, what joy to be found in finishing my mission the way I’d started it.

Crucifixions.

“Focus.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to avert my gaze. “If the tools are there when the time comes, you will use them. If they are not, you will complete this journey with what the Lord gives you.”

My natural inclination upon learning of Alta Fabbri’s procurement of little Marisol was to head straight to the nearest stash house that my dear friend Hindley had informed me of. From the sounds of it, those cabins were the perfect hiding spots for the Fabbri family and their associates.

Hindley’s priceless information was just an example of the Almighty placing the needed tools in my hands to accomplish his glory. While I’d been grateful to Hindley for the info, I’d also painted a clear picture of what his offspring might look like up on crosses should anyone else find out where those safe houses were. That didn’t sit well with the father of three.

Hindley Orgonne was a wise man. And he was no letch like Morris Snow. He’d never reveal the stash cabin locations.

“She’s holed up in one right now with her demon niece. I just know it.” I shifted from foot to foot, no longer able to relax in Margie’s armchair.

Yet I had to wait for the initial flurry of law enforcement activity to blow over.

Patience. The Lord requires patience.

An old box television set up on a wooden shelf with an ancient VHS player beside it caught my eye. Maybe Margie liked to come up here to watch old movies and relax in her armchair with a bowl of popcorn.

The rabbit ears on top of the TV told me it might be good for more than that. Walking to the set, I flipped it on and smiled at the familiar screen of snow that greeted me. Nostalgia warmed my bones as I delicately adjusted the antenna until a somewhat clear picture appeared.

I flipped through the channels—more static than stations—but eventually found what I wanted. The news.

As if the stars themselves were aligning above me, I found myself staring at my own face. Even in my prison mug shot, with the cares of the world dragging my cheeks downward into a haggard mask of exhaustion, the fire of my holy mission shined bright in my eyes.

The newscaster’s solemn tone, as he announced what a danger I was, made me laugh out loud. “Wagner Schull, better known to the public as the Crucifier, should be considered armed and dangerous. If you see this man, do not approach. Get yourself to safety and call the police immediately.”

As if I had even the slightest bit of interest in the average joe on the street. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.

The media didn’t understand who I was or what I was about. Only that I’d put “innocent individuals” on crosses in their front yards.

The Crucifier? I’d heard the moniker more than a few times behind the prison walls, but it still struck me as ridiculous. The boogeyman deserved a title, perhaps, but not a humble servant of God like me.

“At least the world won’t forget me. And someday you’ll all understand exactly why I’ve done these things. Performed these righteous acts.”

The screen flashed to previously recorded footage of the country road and prison van I’d escaped from. Uniformed LEOs dotted the scene, hard at work attempting to track down a man they considered an absolute savage.

A flash of bright-red hair caught my attention. I knelt until I was eye level with the screen.

Beautiful, elegant, and gracefully moving about in the background was the one and only Special Agent Autumn Trent.

How I adored that woman. So pure and valiant.

Even if she did shoot me in the leg barely four weeks ago.

Still, all I felt was a little twinge in my leg now. All was forgiven.

Her brow stitched together as she studied the ground, trying to trace my tracks. I’d meant to simply put time and space between me and the responding officers. Slow down the hunt.

But Autumn was entirely too smart to fall for the ruse. In my heart of hearts, I was sure she’d been the one to discover how I’d actually fled the area entirely.

“I’m glad it’s you.” I ran a finger across the dusty television screen, caressing her long red locks. “I couldn’t think of anyone better to go on this journey with me. We started the Fabbri quest together. We’ll end it the same.”

Autumn wanted Alta Fabbri dead every bit as much as I did. Of this I was certain.

Someone on the outside had shared the horrible news of SSA Aiden Parrish’s fate with someone on the inside, and the information had circulated like wildfire in a dry field.

Immediately, I knew Alta Fabbri had sought vengeance for her dead brothers against the agent who’d sworn to protect them. Taken out her vicious anger on a good, dutiful man like Parrish.

Alta had to die, as did Marisol, or the Fabbri madness would perpetuate.

Autumn Trent had loved that man, just as I’d loved my family. She’d lost her world to the mob’s insanity. She understood my pain.

I suspected she even understood my mission.

“I knew you were special from the moment I met you.” I hoped to soon tell her so in person. “And now I understand why. We’re the same, you and me. The Lord has sent me an ally. An equal.”

When and how we would unite was unclear, but I’d waste no time worrying over logistics. I hadn’t known how I’d end up a free man when they locked me away in that prison, and here I was, just weeks later.

My burner phone beeped on the armchair seat. I rushed to it, goose bumps breaking out across my body as I read the text from my one and only contact, Margie.

The FBI is here. They’re questioning everyone. I’m next in line. I love you so much. I’d do anything for you. But what if they break me? I wasn’t prepared for this so soon.

“Oh, Margie.” I tilted my head back and examined the barn ceiling, appreciating the way the smooth planks protected all inside without question. “You worry too much. I chose you because you had faith.”

I typed out my reply.

Relax. All is well. Have you gotten a look at the agents? Any women with red hair?

Her response was swift.

Yes. Why?

I chuckled. My God was great indeed. This was how Autumn and I would unite. This was how we would merge our destinies.

Do your best to bluff. But if you feel like they’re not buying it, tell them the truth. The redhead specifically. Tell her everything. The Lord will protect you and use this situation to further our mission.

An influx of replies followed, all of them amounting to the same blatant lack of faith and worry. That I’d get caught. That Margie would be thrown into a cell.

I was growing more disenchanted with that woman by the second. And Agent Autumn Trent was looking better and better.

“One more text, and then you’re going to have to trust me, Margie. You must trust in the Lord.”

I carefully chose what could be my last words to Margie.

You joined forces with me because you believed. Right now, I need you to lean into that faith more than ever. I have a plan. Trust it. And know that I will come back for you, dearest. Even if it means breaking you out of a prison cell.

I hit Send and gave the matter to God, knowing damn well that if she ended up incarcerated, she’d have to rely on a much greater power than mine to regain her freedom.

Under no circumstances would I be returning to prison ever again. Not for anything or anyone. Certainly not for a hapless nitwit like Margie Bethune.

And now I wait.

Autumn would ride in on her chariot. And we’d hunt the two remaining Fabbris together.

14

Autumn chugged water, attempting to even out the caffeine jitters she’d unwisely triggered in herself throughout the interview process. Hindley Orgonne’s refusal to share even the slightest detail about the trio of Fabbri cabins he’d helped build so long ago had pushed her agitation to a boiling point, but she had to stay calm.

“There’s got to be a way to get Orgonne to cooperate.” Bree rested her neck over the back of her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe promises of protection instead of threats to keep his mouth shut.”

“It won’t work.” Autumn had gone down this road in her head already. “He isn’t trying to protect himself at this point. He wants his kids to keep living. Even if we promised to protect them too, after the very obvious federal failure concerning the Fabbri children’s safety, he’d call bullshit.”

Bree huffed out a sigh. “And honestly, with Orgonne knowing full well what Wagner Schull is capable of, who can blame him? I might forget how to talk altogether if the alternative was someone nailing my offspring to a cross. Those stakes would understandably send someone into vow-of-silence territory.”

“Exactly.” Tossing her empty bottle into a small recycling bin near the door, Autumn decided to temporarily take the loss. “Orgonne might be holding in some information that could lead us to where Schull’s headed, but we still don’t know anything about who helped him escape.”

Two abrupt raps at the door pulled them from their musings. Swinging it open wide, Associate Warden Green ushered in an officer almost as tall as him. “Agent Trent. Agent Stafford. This is Correctional Officer Margaret Bethune. She worked Schull’s block daily. Had more interactions with him than Danverlittle and Peters put together. She’ll be able to give you a clear picture of the man’s schedule and habits.”

“Good to meet you, Officer Bethune.” Autumn examined the woman, whose graying blond hair was pulled back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Not many women worked in men’s maximum security facilities. Fewer still lasted long.

“Must’ve taken some grit.” Autumn offered her hand. “I imagine being one of the few woman officers in here hasn’t always been easy.”

Bethune’s chin lifted. “It’s my legal right to be here. And I earned my place.” A flicker of something passed behind her eyes—pride, maybe. Or defensiveness.

Autumn let the woman’s abrupt attitude slide. “Go ahead and have a seat. We’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible.”

“Take all the time you need, Agents Trent and Stafford.” Officer Bethune gave Autumn’s still-outstretched hand a quick shake. “I’m happy to help.”

An electric current of panic shot from the officer’s grip, jolting Autumn into an instant state of alert.

Not just panic. Fear. Guilt.

They’d finally hit the jackpot.

Bree offered her hand as well, giving the impression that they were just three LEOs sitting down for a chat with the same goal in mind. Tracking down that incomprehensible bastard, Wagner Schull. “So you worked Schull’s block daily? That’s promising. You just might be able to point us in the right direction here.”

“You see, Officer Bethune,” Autumn picked up the dialogue with a smooth swoop, “we’re certain that someone on the inside, someone other than Morris Snow, helped Schull escape.”

Bethune’s brown eyes widened as if the thought alone horrified her. “More dirty cops? That’s unlikely. We’re a tight-knit group in this prison. Everyone takes their duty very seriously.”

Autumn nodded, throwing the obvious hole in the bucket at Bethune’s line of thinking. “Except for Morris Snow, of course.”

“Yes, of course.” Bethune twisted her fingers together, her anxiety palpable. “Officer Snow was more interested in growing his bank account than honoring his sworn duties.”

“Bank account?” Bree placed her elbows on the table, eagerly leaning forward. “We’ve considered that some type of payout might’ve motivated Snow to act as he did, but we don’t have actual evidence. What reason do you have to believe Morris Snow was financially persuaded to assist Wagner Schull?”

Bethune had raised Bree’s suspicion flag with Autumn barely having to say a word.

“Oh.” The officer’s expression wrenched as she seemed to seek a way to roll back her comments. “I’m just assuming, as you all probably are. What other reason would Officer Snow have to help an inmate?”

Autumn spotted the sweat beading on Bethune’s forehead. “Fair enough. Especially when considering a lunatic like Schull. I mean, this prison is full of the unhinged and deranged, but Schull takes the cake when you look at the big picture. He’s completely out of his mind, and anyone who’d aid him would have to be an incredibly disturbed individual.”

Glancing Autumn’s way for a brief moment, Bree appeared to catch on to the assignment. “Guy thinks he’s on a mission from God.” She mimed spitting on the floor. “Utterly delusional. Schull doesn’t need to be setting foot in the free world. He’s lucky he’s still breathing air after the atrocities he committed.”

The slight jut of Bethune’s chin at the agents’ verbal attack on Schull solidified Autumn’s impressions of the woman.

“Wagner was very dedicated to what he believed in.” Bethune narrowed her eyes. “It’s not our place to analyze the actions that led him to a prison cell. He’s already stood before a judge and jury.”

“And he will do so again.” Autumn identified the telltale devotion seeping from Bethune’s words. “I have to say, I’m not sure your supervisor would agree with you as to what is and isn’t the place of correctional officers. Or all LEOs, for that matter. It’s important to keep in mind what Schull has done so we don’t forget the kind of threat he is. Without constantly reminding ourselves of his insidious nature, we run the risk of falling prey to whatever tricks or charms he may throw our way under the guise of connection and humanity.”

“Very true.” Bree tapped a pen against the table in slow, steady beats, as if to hypnotize Bethune. “Psychopaths like Schull feed on those with weak minds. Suck them in like flies to honey. And it’s all lies. I assume you witnessed firsthand how charming Schull can be on occasion. Such bullshit.”

“He,” the officer coughed, grabbing at her throat and avoiding eye contact, “w-wasn’t charming at all. I didn’t…I don’t…put a lot of thought into his crimes is all I meant. He’s done what he’s done. The way he sees it, he had good reason to do so⁠—”

Autumn clapped a hand down on the table. “Good reason to crucify a pair of innocent brothers who hadn’t yet reached their twenty-first birthdays? Two old men who’d served their time and paid their dues to society for ever having worked with Maury Fabbri? Or how about that pregnant, defenseless young woman at home alone in her apartment?”

“What were those good reasons, Margaret?” Venom seeped from Bree’s demand. “He must’ve shared them with you, despite you not putting a lot of thought into his crimes. What did Wagner Schull tell you about his mission?”

Bethune shook her head. “He didn’t tell me an-anything. I-I barely knew the first thing about him.”

“Garbage.” Autumn let out a scoffing laugh. “You worked his block every single day. Associate Warden Green said you’d know the most about him. Why are you lying to us? Why is it so hard for you to say anything negative about a man who gruesomely crucified other human beings without a second thought? What’s wrong with you, Margaret?”

Her eyes met Autumn’s, and her nostrils flared. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I see a different picture. A bigger picture.”

Autumn fought to remain in her chair. “You mean Schull’s picture.”

“He’s doing the Lord’s work.” The officer’s walls had cracked, and the truth poured out like a dammed-up river. “You’ll never understand, and you don’t need to. Nothing can stop Wagner now.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” Bree exhaled softly, clearly forcing herself to relax. They had to gain this woman’s trust, and verbally wrapping their hands around her throat wouldn’t help. “What did you do? How did you help him? We’re not leaving until you tell us the truth. All of it.”

“Let me guess.” Autumn took a not-so-wild shot in the dark. “You fell in love with him and then fell in love with his mission. He coaxed you into helping him by convincing you that you were taking part in something holy. And by telling you that he was also in love with you. You’re a trained prison guard. I hope you didn’t believe that.”

Bethune crossed her arms in defiance. “He’s in love with me. And I’m in love with him. I don’t expect common minds like yours to comprehend the reason he’s on this planet or what he was born to do. Most people can’t.”

The admission was disgusting, yet simultaneously unsurprising. Falling in love with a violent offender was a well-documented phenomenon. Prison groupies, Bonnie and Clyde syndrome, hybristophilia. Margaret Bethune was far from a pioneer.

Bree motioned at the two-way mirror behind them. “Let’s be clear. You’re confessing to aiding and abetting a murderer in front of two federal agents and your own associate warden? You do recall that you have the right to remain silent.”

“Yes.” Bethune took a deep breath through her nose, worry lines disappearing as she embraced her fate. “But I don’t need the law’s protection. Not when I have Wagner’s.”

Autumn resented the calm that had come over the officer. “You could be charged as an accomplice to murder. Spend the rest of your life behind bars. Is your love for Schull worth that?”

“He’ll come back for me. He’d never let me rot in prison.” Bethune shook her head as an unbelievable smile stretched across her face. “And even if I did, yes. It’s worth it.”

“I hope you still feel that way when he leaves you here alone.” Autumn leaned forward until mere inches separated her face from Officer Bethune’s. “Because he will.”

“I trust him. With my life. And besides, he said I can tell you everything. Especially you.” The officer nodded at Autumn before gesturing to her front pocket. “I have a burner phone in here with all our text messages. You should be able to confirm with GPS that he’s staying at my farm. I picked him up not far from the prison van site and drove him there myself.”

Refusing to allow her jaw to drop despite the urge, Autumn turned to Bree, flashing a glance of incredulity. “Give us the phone. And what do you mean ‘especially me?’”

“He mentioned you. The redhead. You’ll see in the texts. Also,” Bethune handed over the device nonchalantly, “I’m the one who recruited Morris. I knew what kind of a man he was. He’d never have helped Wagner because of his mission, but for money? Morris Snow would’ve done a lot of things for money. He wasn’t a good person.”

“But you are?” Bree chuckled. “And I didn’t think we could find another individual as ridiculous as Schull. Ding ding ding. Here she is, folks.”

“Passcode?” Autumn held up the phone, and Bethune gave her the passcode. Once she had access, Autumn homed in on one of Bethune’s claims. “Schull said you could tell us everything, huh? Seems counterproductive to his escape plans.”

Lifting her shoulders, the officer continued, unfazed in her defense of the Crucifier and bolder with every passing moment. “He’s doing the work of the Lord, and he knows no one can stop him. Wagner trusts in a higher power, and I trust in Wagner.”

“Oh, we understand that.” Autumn turned to Bree. “We need to update Mullen.”

Giving a courtesy tap before entering the room, Associate Warden Green strode toward the table, his entire being locked on Officer Margaret Bethune like he’d just spotted the fox in the henhouse. “Agents, I’ll stay with Bethune while you speak to SSA Mullen. She’s not going anywhere.” The warden detached a pair of cuffs hanging from his belt. “Margaret Bethune, I’m placing you under official arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law…”

As the Miranda rights rang out behind them, Bree led the way from the interview room, with Autumn on her heels. To both their surprise, Mullen, with Sun at his side, stood waiting just outside the door, gazing through the two-way mirror at Officer Bethune and Associate Warden Green.

Spine straight, Bree faced Mullen like a soldier returned from war. “We have our snake.”

Mullen turned to meet them, arms crossed and expression stern. “Good. Agent Ming and I weren’t having any luck with our interviews. We’ll be tearing through Officer Bethune’s phone. We can use any incoming numbers to triangulate Schull’s potential present location. It seems ridiculously easy that Schull could be just sitting on Bethune’s property, waiting on his ‘devoted chauffeur,’ and we need to consider the real possibility that this is a setup.”

The same idea had crossed Autumn’s mind. “I don’t think Bethune’s lying about what she did or where she took Schull. I even believe he gave her the green light to share. But I agree with you. There’s no telling what he has planned and waiting at Bethune’s farm.”

Mullen held up his phone, jaw flexing as his features morphed from stern to severe. “I’d prefer the four of us go to the property together, but we’ll have to split up. I put our interviews on pause to take an incoming call from Agent Holland regarding our MIA colleague, Agent Brady.”

Bree’s brows shot high. “They found him?”

“Not yet.” Mullen exchanged a glance with Sun. “But Holland and Arnett learned from Brady’s wife that he used her credit card at a gas station on the outskirts of Richmond earlier this morning. He used the same card to book two separate rooms at establishments on opposite sides of the city. He’s possibly trying to confuse and stall us.”

Sun crossed her arms with a snort of disdain. “He had to know it wouldn’t take us long to pin him as the rat.”

“Indeed.” Mullen’s mustache twitched as he bobbed his head in agreement. “But leaving a trail, even on purpose, isn’t the smartest plan, and likely, panic is clouding his judgment. Either way, locating him is imperative.”

Autumn’s heart raced at the prospect. “If Brady truly is Alta’s man on the inside, he might have information about her plans for Charity and Marisol.”

Mullen grunted. “Exactly. But I want you and Stafford to stay on Schull’s tracks. Go check out Officer Bethune’s farm. I’ll get SWAT moving to that vicinity, so don’t hesitate to call them in the second anything feels off. Do not try to take this guy alone if he’s there.”

Autumn nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He eyed her. “I’ve already dispatched Agents Holland and Arnett to one of the hotels indicated by Brady’s card usage. Agent Ming and I will search the other. Brady might not be at either of them, but we need to confirm.”

Autumn briefly wondered if Mullen was keeping her focused on Schull instead of Alta Fabbri’s rat because it was “safer,” considering what Alta had done to Aiden. But she had no time for that analysis. Besides, Bethune had her curious about Schull’s comments about her. She was looking forward to taking the man down.

And little Marisol Atkins didn’t give a damn about personal vendettas among agents and Mafia associates and serial killers. She was just a baby who deserved a solid chance at reaching her second birthday.

15

Sun studied the Arbor Motel as Mullen parked discreetly near the chain-link fence that marked the edge of the property. An unimpressive line of one-story brick structures housed fifteen suites, sporting what likely had been brightly painted doors at some point in the past. Now the scraped-up, rust-colored entryways welcomed visitors to rooms with bars across their singular picture windows.

“Nice place.” Sun had promised herself she’d cut back on the sarcasm around Mullen, who didn’t seem to understand or appreciate the comedic artform, but she had her limits.

The Arbor Motel demanded commentary.

“Just the type of seedy joint Brady might’ve stopped at to catch his breath.” Mullen strapped on his vest. “He may have even been meeting up with other accomplices. We don’t know just how many people Alta’s roped into this escapade.”

Sun considered the Fabbri family history of avoiding loose ends. “You’re right, but I have a feeling she’s kept it as minimal as possible. In fact, I’m surprised Brady’s still alive at all if she’s truly done with him. I doubt it’s an oversight. Maybe she needs him for something else. That or…”

Mullen sighed. “That or she’s so far ahead of us that she’s not worried about Brady in the slightest. We have to consider that her connections and resources may have gotten her and her hostages out of the country already.”

Assuming she took Charity and Marisol with her. They could be dead and disposed of by now.

Keeping the gruesome thought to herself, Sun cracked the passenger door open. “Intel said room eight, right?”

“Correct. The manager confirmed over the phone. He’s probably watching us through the lobby curtains right now.” Mullen exited the driver’s side and retrieved a battering ram from the trunk. “Follow me.”

Wouldn’t have dreamed of leading the way while I’m partnered with you, sir.

Sun matched pace with the SSA, crossing the parking lot and hugging the building as they approached Agent Gerald Brady’s suite. She pulled her service weapon, taking the right side of the door. Mullen took the left and slammed his fist against the peeling paint three times.

“FBI! We have a warrant. Open up!”

They waited, listening for any signs of life and hearing nothing.

Mullen pounded again. “FBI! We’re entering the premises!” He positioned the battering ram and braced himself, preparing to bust the door open, but Sun held up a finger.

“Wait.” While she would’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching the SSA bash in the door—they hadn’t even bothered to ask the front desk for a key card—she figured it was her duty to try one more thing. She twisted the door handle, and her instincts proved accurate when it opened. “Not locked.” The path of least resistance.

“Could be waiting for us.” Mullen set down the ram and pulled his gun, holding it ready. “Swing it. I’ll lead. We clear the place immediately, whether it seems empty or not.”

Sun gave the door a push, and the SSA rushed into the suite, announcing their presence yet again. “FBI. If anybody’s in here, come out with your hands up.”

Only silence met them as Sun followed Mullen in.

Mullen moved past the still-made bed and ancient plaid armchair in the main room to check the bathroom while Sun opened the sole closet.

“Closet’s clear but not empty.”

“Bathroom’s clear,” Mullen called out, rejoining her while she hastily pulled on a pair of gloves to inspect the meager contents of the small space.

“Suit jacket in here.” She grasped a lanyard hanging from its front pocket. “And what do you know? Special Agent Gerald Brady’s sign-in badge. He was definitely here. The question is whether he’s coming back.”

Mullen examined the card, pointing toward the bathroom. “No toiletries in there. Not even a toothbrush. And I didn’t see a suitcase or duffel bag anywhere either.”

Sun narrowed her eyes, looking over the room slowly. “He left behind the one thing he’s certain he won’t be needing again. Brady’s never getting back into the field office. He wouldn’t even make it through parking lot security.”

“Possible he wants us to be uncertain, and I’ll have local officers posted at the motel entrance just in case.” Mullen whirled a finger in the air. “But it’s too slick. Too clean. You and I aren’t going to waste any more time here. Brady did enough to make his presence in this room known and radar-worthy but too little to convince me he means to return.”

Agreeing with her superior in full, Sun realized she and Mullen had reached a possible turning point in their co-working relationship. For maybe the first time since his arrival at the BAU, she was seeing eye to eye with the man while simultaneously experiencing zero annoyance with his mannerisms.

It was bound to happen sooner or later. Could just be a freak coincidence. Don’t put too much thought into it.

“Shit.” Mullen’s grim tone pulled her from her thoughts. “I’ll take this outside. Stay.”

“And just like that,” Sun muttered as she watched him disappear into the parking lot, “we’re back to dog commands.”

A simmer of disappointment burned deep in her stomach. Even on his best of days, Gil Mullen would never come close to being the leader Aiden was.

Safe to say, without the stellar guidance of an equally stellar SSA, the BAU itself might never return to its former glory.

We operated like a well-oiled machine. And now…the machine’s been dismantled.

“Agent Ming.” Mullen reappeared in the room’s open doorway. “We’re returning to the field office. Now.”

“But what about⁠—”

“Others are coming to handle the scene.” The SSA cut her off, his lips set in a tight line. “We leave now. Something’s come up.”

Nearing the end of her patience and every resolution she’d made since Mullen’s introduction, Sun refused to take another step until she’d been treated with the respect a special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation deserved. “What has come up? Surely you can give me a little more than that.”

Mullen’s dark eyes pierced her petulance. “I promise you, Agent Ming, I cannot.”

16

Keaton took in his surroundings from the lobby window of Motel Sleep. The two-story budget motel lacked any flash or flair that might be expected at a five-star establishment, but overall, the premises appeared tidy.

“You want me to accompany you to Brady’s room?” Kurt Batelle, the elderly front desk manager, made the offer with all the sincerity of a priest. “He came by earlier and grabbed a soda from the vending machine. Seemed nice enough. Might open up easier for me.”

“No.” Keaton held up his hand. Their meeting with Brady could quickly go wrong, and he didn’t want Mr. Batelle anywhere near the crosshairs. “Thank you. It’d be best if you sat tight in the lobby and locked the front doors until this is over.”

Roman grunted his agreement. “In fact, we’d appreciate if you locked all entrances and exits into the main building.”

“You got it.” Mr. Batelle persisted with his pleasant compliance. “I can’t imagine the kind of stress you…” Stopping abruptly, the man’s wrinkled features tensed as he pointed a gnarled finger out the window. “Looks like Mr. Brady’s leaving, folks.”

Keaton followed the gesture, spotting Agent Gerald Brady exiting his first-floor room with a suitcase in one hand and a disposable coffee cup in the other. The man headed for a black SUV parked curbside out front.

Shit.

“We gotta go, Rome.” Keaton rushed toward the front entrance, calling over his shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Batelle. We’re grateful for your cooperation. Time to lock up.”

Though the small parking lot—squared off by the hotel’s cube shape—stood between them and their suspect, little hid their forward approach from the lobby entrance. Brady spotted them almost immediately, throwing his coffee to the ground and fumbling with his key fob at the driver’s side door.

“Agent Gerald Brady. Stop!” Keaton took off at a dead sprint, service weapon drawn, as Roman’s thundering footsteps sounded right behind him. “Hands in the air!”

Brady dropped his suitcase and pulled his handgun, pointing it directly at his oncoming colleagues. “Just let me go, dammit. I don’t want any trouble. Let me leave.”

“You know we can’t do that.” Roman moved at an angle, flanking the rogue agent on the left while Keaton continued his head-on approach. “You’ve already caused a lot of trouble, and the Bureau certainly won’t look the other way.”

“We know what you did, Brady.” Keaton halted, leaving a mere ten feet between him and the scowling man. “The information you provided to Alta Fabbri. Your breech of conduct got a fellow federal agent and an innocent civilian killed. You put a young mother and her infant child in serious danger at the hands of a woman you know is completely unhinged.”

Brady slid his narrowed brown eyes from Keaton to Roman and back again. “Do you think I care?”

You unbelievable bastard.

“I think you used to.” Keaton took a step forward. “You can’t escape now, so tell us what the plan was. What’d she give you? What did Alta Fabbri promise you that made it worth betraying your badge, your oath, and your entire country?”

A small, sadistic grin stretched across Brady’s face. “She offered me three million dollars. But I would’ve done it for a lot less.”

Exchanging a quick glance with Roman, Keaton moved closer. “That’s a pretty extreme thing to admit to two armed federal agents pointing their guns directly at you. I’m guessing you have your reasons. Drop your weapon and we can talk about them.”

Gerald Brady wavered for a moment, swearing under his breath as he considered his options, which weren’t stellar. “I’m not dropping shit or telling you anything until I’m guaranteed a promise of leniency for my cooperation.”

Keaton envisioned the bloody mess the Atkins’ safe house must’ve been after Alta blindsided them.

No one showed them leniency, asshole.

“Okay.” The empty promise slipped past Keaton’s lips. “We’ll make sure your cooperation is taken into consideration. Now drop your weapon and tell us what happened. Tell us the plan.”

Sneering, Brady kept ahold of his gun and lifted his shoulders. “She found me at a bar. My first instinct was to bring her in, but she had some incredibly interesting possibilities to discuss.”

Roman closed in on Brady. “Meaning the possibility she could use you to get the intel she needed and pay you off. How do you think she knew you’d be the one to break, Brady?”

The agent shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe she was following me for a while before she approached me. Any idiot taking a gander into my life could’ve figured out I wasn’t the world’s happiest man.”

“So you decided to throw away everything that matters in life because you’re unhappy?” Roman doubled down on the heart of the matter.

Brady’s nostrils flared. “Everything that matters to you is not everything that matters to me. Fabbri offered me the three mil in exchange for the safe house whereabouts, and I took the deal. She was supposed to meet me here last night to make good on her offer, but she never showed.”

Keaton barely held back an amused chuckle. “And you were surprised by this?”

“I wasn’t.” Brady ground his teeth together. “I know what kind of a woman she is, just like she pinpointed what kind of a man I am. She didn’t show, and I decided to get the hell out of here. But then, of course, you two showed up just in the nick of time.”

Seething rage announced itself in every tight line of Gerald Brady’s face. Keaton didn’t know everything about the man, but after speaking with Ginny, he had enough basic information to be certain that the gray-haired fifty-two-year-old had a lot more to consider in life than just himself.

“You didn’t care how this would affect your family?” Keaton’s question was edged with the disgust now churning in his gut. “Your wife? Five kids? You’re giving up your family, your home, your highly respected career for some money in the bank. Dirty money at that. Money you don’t even need.”

Brady let out a laugh. “You’re naming these things off like they’re deterrents. My wife, my kids, my house, my job—all reasons I was willing to take the deal. It wasn’t about becoming rich. It was about having enough money to disappear. Start over. Do something else with whatever time I have left on this cursed planet.”

“You wanted to run away from all your responsibilities.” Roman’s voice dripped with disdain. “How inspirational.”

“Screw you.” Brady’s brow furrowed at the judgment. “You’re too young to understand, but someday you’ll get it. I wanted a change of scenery.”

Keaton wondered what reality Gerald Brady had allowed himself to live in where the havoc the agent had wreaked could be described so flippantly. “Last time I checked, prison counts as a change of scenery. I guess you’re going to get what you wanted after all.”

“I’m not going to prison.” Aiming his gun at Keaton, Brady made his stance on the situation crystal clear. “Agent Arnett. You’ll want to put your gun down unless you’d like to see a bullet go through Agent Holland’s brain.”

“Not doing that.” Roman’s fierce expression made him almost unrecognizable. “You shoot him, you’re getting shot too. You know that. And you also know there are better ways out of this.”

Brady laughed, never taking his gaze off Keaton. “What I know is I’ve already said too much about Alta Fabbri. That crazy bitch is going to have me killed the second she finds out I’ve been taken in. Someone will get to me in a matter of days. Disappearing’s my only option.”

Keaton glanced from Roman to Brady, knowing a bulletproof vest would do nothing to stop a head shot. Brady’s desperation made him a ticking time bomb. If they allowed him to strike first, the disgraced agent most certainly would.

“Ginny seemed pretty upset about you not coming home last night.” Keaton hoped, for Brady’s sake, a piece of the man’s soul still cared about his family. “I’d even go so far as to say she loves you. And those five kids of yours probably do too.”

“You gotta give up that family man angle. I wouldn’t piss on Ginny if she was on fire.” Brady’s voice had taken on a distinctive psychopathic tone Keaton was far too familiar with. “One kid, two kid, three kid…a wife doesn’t make me a husband. Five kids don’t make me a father. They’re just a small crowd of annoying leeches that never go away.”

Roman snarled at the callous admission. “And you don’t deserve a single one of them, you piece of shit.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed you’d end up being the bigger asshole, Agent Arnett. But it looks like we have ourselves a winner.” Brady’s visage twisted with demonic fury as he swung his gun toward Roman. “I’ll see you in hell.”

Keaton fired immediately, beating the rogue agent to the trigger.

Gerald Brady dropped to the pavement, his ruined life over and done.

17

Winter couldn’t find an easy way to say she was almost certain Jewel had some connection to the dead. Maybe the M.E.’s ability wasn’t the same as Emma Last’s, the spitfire special agent out of D.C.’s Violent Crime Unit, who could actually see and converse with the deceased.

But somehow, some way, Jewel had a private line to the afterlife.

Winter took a swift right onto the dead-end street that led to the cemetery parking lot, Jewel in her passenger seat. Traffic getting here on a Saturday had been a bitch and a half. How had she forgotten what Richmond traffic could be like?

She almost couldn’t believe her proposition had worked. But diving in as Jewel re-entered The Lyft had seemed appropriate, as she’d been beating around the bush for hours.

“I was actually wondering if,” Winter had cleared her throat, “you’d like to take a little field trip with me. To…the cemetery where Aiden Parrish’s ashes are buried.”

Yep. Came out about as bizarre as expected.

Jewel had said nothing for a moment before managing a response. “Sure. I haven’t been to a cemetery in at least ten years, but…yes. I think maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Really?” Winter hadn’t predicted the quick acquiescence. “Just like that? Do you even want to know why?”

Shut up and take the win, moron.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me, but I can guess the roundabout reasoning.” Jewel’s voice had remained calm and even. “Agent Trent and I are professional acquaintances. You’re close to Agent Trent. You obviously have questions about the passing of your friend and former colleague, Aiden Parrish. And as a medical examiner, I specialize in the very thing most people spend their lives avoiding. Death. Sometimes, people think proximity will help them find peace.”

“Wow, that’s…” Winter had drummed her fingers across the tabletop where she’d still sat in the booth. “So would you say you’re available now?”

Jewel had glanced at her watch before shrugging. “Sure. Field trip it is. Would you like me to meet you there? I know which cemetery he was⁠—”

“Do you just want to ride over with me?” Winter had wanted as much time to observe Jewel Plath as possible.

I sound like a serial killer. She’s going to change her mind. She should change her mind.

Jewel surprised her again, though, answering without hesitation. “Sounds fine. Just let me go pay for the extra coffee. I’ve had enough caffeine today that I might actually be able to fly us over there.”

Winter had taken the free moment to check her messages yet again. Still nothing from Autumn. She hated to harass her friend while she was quite obviously busy. With Alta Fabbri and the Crucifier both on the loose, how could she not be? But anxiety was growing in Winter’s chest, refusing to be ignored. She was, after all, in Richmond primarily out of concern for Autumn. She hoped her friend would check in soon.

An update of any sort would go a long way to quell the worries prickling like cactus spines in her brain. Winter had typed out a quick message.

Believe it or not, we figured out that you weren’t coming back for breakfast after four hours. No worries. I’ll see you whenever you get home. Just making sure you’re all right.

Autumn could have no clue Hailey had informed Winter of the APBs and the double trouble the team was facing. They’d discuss it all later, after the fact, assuming they could talk about any unclassified details at all. Mid-case and mid-chaos, they always found it best to keep the conversation simple.

She’d no sooner hit Send than Jewel had reappeared. “Ready?”

Now, in the cemetery lot, Winter put the car in park, the doors unlocking as she waved a hand at Jewel in the passenger seat. “You agreed to this so easily.” She couldn’t help making the observation out loud. “Why?”

“I guess it occurred to me that maybe I’d finally met someone who could help me answer some pressing questions. Questions that have been haunting me…literally…for a while now.” Jewel released the seat belt from across her chest. “There’s something off about you.” Instead of getting out, she relaxed into the leather, as though the comment wasn’t even slightly strange. “And I mean that in the best of ways. Maybe we can help each other.”

“Fair enough.” Winter frowned out the windshield at the rows and rows of tombstones dotting the green ahead. “Just how well acquainted are you with Autumn?”

If the doctor was that adept at picking up on people who were “different,” she would only need a few hangouts to realize Autumn was in the weirdo club too.

Jewel offered her a broad smile. “I think very highly of Agent Trent, but I’ve only spoken to her a few times after the tea party case. I had the opportunity to meet SSA Parrish before his death. I deeply respected him as well. He had a very commanding presence. And again, I mean that in the best of ways.”

Winter allowed herself a grin, visions of Aiden’s nearly always serious expression flashing through her mind. “You hit that nail on the head. A likable yet bossy pain in the ass we’ll all miss forever.”

“I surmised as much.” Jewel clasped her hands in her lap. “Now is when you ask me what you were really trying to ask back at The Lyft.”

Now or never.

“Okay.” Winter considered the best way to proceed, given the forward nature of Jewel’s statement. “I was under the impression you didn’t appreciate me poking around in your brain during breakfast. And after it. And all through the lunch rush. And all the way here.”

“Oh, I didn’t.” Jewel also kept her gaze fixed on the cemetery outside, but Winter wondered if she was seeing any of it. “But like I said, part of me realized you were coming from a different place. Then I remembered how yesterday, when I got to work, one of my ‘patients’ was screaming for his mother over and over, and I decided it was time to either share this nightmare with someone or just go completely insane. The latter seemed the less attractive option.”

“Whoa.” Winter had been waiting all day for this. “Considering your ‘patients’ are all deceased, I’m going to assume my previous suspicions were correct. You communicate with the dead, don’t you, Doc?”

Jewel shook her head. “No. Not exactly. I hear them. Sometimes. And when I do, it seems like they’re always…miserable. Crying or moaning or begging for something or someone. Not something I imagined myself ever admitting to, but here I am.”

Winter considered giving Jewel’s arm a pat of reassurance but refrained. “It’s okay. You can say whatever you want to me. Your weirdo radar was spot-on. I have visions about things that are really happening. And occasionally, I see important details outlined in red. Like a drawer or a fork or someone’s disgusting pinky toe. If there’s a freak of the week club, I’m the president.”

Jewel turned toward her, hazel eyes popping wide. “Really? I mean, I felt something unique there, but…wow. Knowing I’m not the only one after all this time is just…”

“Really.” Winter met her gaze, letting her know she spoke the truth. “I have a friend who can intuit a person’s emotions with a simple touch. And I know another woman who sees and talks to ghosts. Interacts with them. That sounds like it’s more in your wheelhouse of impossible abilities. Am I right?”

“Like I said, I only hear them.” Jewel bit her lip as she considered her own unexplainable gift. “I don’t see them, thank God. And I can’t talk to them. Not that I’m aware of. They just seem to want me to listen. To hear their pain. I’m still figuring it all out, and honestly, I used to think I had a mental health condition. Or a brain tumor.”

Winter snuck a glance at the M.E. “But now you don’t? Why?”

“Because of the tea party case. The dead old man I heard crying out for his son was on the property, calling for Scooter. His son’s nickname. Not something I could’ve known, but it was factual.” The emphasis on the last word told Winter facts were important to her.

Even her off-the-wall gift or curse—however Jewel would come to look at it—had only become acceptable when it made proper sense of some sort. Connected dots she couldn’t deny no matter how supernatural they seemed.

Winter gestured toward the cemetery “Well, I was pretty positive you had a finger in the afterlife somehow. Your talent is even better than I’d thought.”

“What do you mean?” Jewel tilted her head.

“I was simply hoping you could reach Aiden. Sense him…or something much less precise.” Winter pointed in the direction of his tombstone. “But now I know you can hear him.”

She hopped out, closed her door, and took off.

The greenery was divided into imperfect square lots with a grid of sidewalks. Aiden’s grave was two down and three to the left.

Jewel’s footsteps soon tapped just behind her. “But I don’t always hear them, Winter. Like I told you, some of them are quiet. A lot of them are quiet. In fact, if we’re talking percentages…” The doctor’s mildly panicked voice cut off abruptly.

Winter swung around to find Jewel staring at a tall tombstone with a praying angel statue set on top.

“Doc?”

Jewel put her hands over her ears. “This is why I’ve avoided cemeteries for so long. So. Many. Voices. But I need to…I have to…face it. Face them.”

This was a prospect Winter hadn’t considered. If Jewel could hear the dead, graveyards had the potential to be as loud as a crowd in a football stadium. “Maybe try to focus on just one.” She glanced again at the angel statue. “What are you hearing here?”

Hand shaking, Jewel pointed toward the stone. “A little girl. She’s wailing that her nanny’s mean. Meaner than mud. She keeps saying it. ‘Meaner than mud.’ She sounds scared.”

Winter examined the aged granite.

Lucille Maureen Brayton. Born October 1962. Deceased September 1967.

“Holy shit. She was only five.” Winter stepped closer to the grave. “Do you think her nanny might have…hurt her?”

Murdered her?

Lucille’s name glowed red against the rock, as if to answer Winter, even if Jewel remained unsure. Before Winter could say another word about the child’s fate, Jewel passed the grave and headed for another.

“What now?” Winter hurried after her, freezing as Jewel knelt at a much smaller rectangular headstone.

Jewel lowered her head. “This man is repeating over and over that Bertha needs to stop grabbing the steering wheel. He’s literally shouting it. ‘Bertha, stop grabbing the damn steering wheel! You’ll get us both killed!’”

Harvey Dean Lutz. June 1949—July 1982.

Winter’s gaze drifted to the stone beside Harvey’s, and she was not surprised at all to find Bertha Jane Lutz with the same month and year of death. The headstone added one more fact about Bertha.

Loving wife.

“I have a feeling that’s not quite true,” Winter muttered.

Jewel stood. “They’re all around us. It’s making me seasick. Like we’re on a ship getting hit by ocean waves in the middle of a hurricane.” She placed a hand on her stomach.

“Are any of them…calm? Happy? Saying anything that borders on being okay?” Winter studied Jewel’s distraught features, feeling she’d pinpointed a very unlucky fact about the poor doctor’s curse.

Because if I’m right, she will see it as a curse. Anyone would.

Jewel’s eyes welled with tears. “No. They’re all suffering.”

Winter took her arm and pulled her a few graves down. “What about this one? Roberta Peterson?”

Jewel leaned forward, seeming to concentrate to block out the other voices. “Nothing. She’s quiet.”

“Uh-huh.” Her hand still secure around Jewel’s wrist, Winter hurried to some others. “And this one. Lyndsey Donato. What’s she saying?”

“Nothing.” Jewel’s shoulders sank as she pointed to the crumbling tombstone that bordered Lyndsey’s. “This woman, Kelly Mills. She’s asking someone named Donny what he put in her drink. She doesn’t feel good.”

“Good lord, Jewel.” Winter glanced around, regaining her bearings and locating Aiden’s grave, still two sidewalk-bordered lots to the left. “You only hear the ones who were murdered. The victims. Souls that can’t rest in peace.”

Jewel let out a burst of unlikely laughter before putting a hand to her throat. “That’s absolutely absurd. Why just the troubled souls? No. Why?”

If Winter had the answer to that question—why this freakish ability she did not want and never asked for had been dropped into her lap—she might be able to get a decent night’s sleep for the first time since she was thirteen.

“I’m not sure why. Come with me.” Winter yanked Jewel along as Aiden’s name came into clear view. “There. Aiden. He was blown up. No way in hell that was an accident. He might be able to help us know for certain who was responsible. What’s he saying? What’s he telling you?”

Winter released Jewel, who approached the grave timidly. The earth was softer there, the grass not yet fully grown over the dirt, though it had come a long way in the past few weeks.

Jewel closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths as if to clear her mind of all the other voices. The woeful chorus Winter couldn’t hear.

After what seemed like an eternity, she turned to Winter, her hazel gaze apologetic. “I’m sorry. He’s not telling me anything. He’s completely silent.”

Aiden was murdered. No possible way was he resting in peace. Cars didn’t just blow up. Maybe with some major malfunction…but CSI hadn’t found any evidence of a faulty vehicle.

Or had they?

Why did it feel as if even Cassidy had been kept in the dark to some degree concerning Aiden’s death? What was being hidden…and who was trying to hide it?

Considering Aiden’s ghost wasn’t wailing about anything, Autumn’s paranoia about the Bureau was quickly becoming less ridiculous.

He’d either died from an accidental explosion and the powers that be were allowing it to appear as a murder for whatever shady reasoning, or…

“Crap.” Jewel’s soft voice invaded Winter’s thoughts. The M.E. was frowning at her phone. “I have to get to work immediately.”

“New customer?” Despite her mind swimming with possibilities, Winter followed Jewel, who was already hauling it to the sidewalk.

“Yep.” Jewel’s shoulders sank as she halted for a moment. “How about we make this day even more bizarre? Come with me. We’ll see if this one’s a talker.”

18

Autumn studied Margaret Bethune’s enormous red barn, pleased that SSA Mullen had allowed her and Bree to handle searching the property on their own. SWAT was around the corner, if needed.

An entourage might scare Schull off, and losing track of him now could mean the end for Marisol. They needed to know where the cabin hideouts were—assuming Alta was using them at all—to even begin the search for Charity and her daughter.

This trip has to end with Wagner Schull in handcuffs. It just does.

GPS tracking of the phone from which Schull had texted Bethune had indeed placed him on her farm, but Margaret insisted she didn’t know what building the man had decided to stay in because she’d given him free rein of the house and outlying structures.

Autumn and Bree had decided to first clear the small collection of sheds scattered across the land, then the barn, and last the house.

A frustrating fifteen minutes had found all the sheds empty. Autumn stepped toward the white entryway beside the barn’s classic and gargantuan sliding door.

“I still say we should’ve brought SWAT.” Bree stepped up beside her.

“If Schull’s in there, he needs to see a familiar face. He told Bethune to tell us everything because he wanted us to show up. Me, specifically. He needs the reassurance that we came. Alone.”

Bree raised an eyebrow. “Let’s not forget Schull might want only us to show up so he can ambush and kill us.”

That wasn’t really his M.O., but Autumn wasn’t about to argue.

The murderer had surrendered to Autumn when she’d caught him the last time—granted, she’d shot him in the leg first—and now that he’d busted out of prison, she was positive he only had one goal. The complete and total annihilation of the Fabbri family tree.

Entering the barn, Autumn and Bree scattered to clear the first floor and take in their surroundings. Tidy was the proper word for the order in which Margaret Bethune kept her inherited space. Boxes and bins stacked neatly in rows against the far-left wall. An impressively huge pile of firewood stored to the right. Six horse stalls lined the long wall of the barn’s northside, but no hint of old manure tainted the air.

It actually smells good in here. Like apple or cinnamon.

Realizing that scent was no accident, Autumn raised her gaze to the hayloft, where lights seemed to flicker. She walked over and nudged Bree’s elbow with her own. “There are candles burning up there.” Without waiting for her colleague’s response, she beelined toward the wood-plank stairs and began her ascent. Candles required someone to light them.

“I guess we’re going up, then.” Bree immediately adjusted to the plan and followed her.

Drawing her gun, Autumn cleared the last step and spun around the expanse of the open loft. The space was empty of human fugitives. But the easy chair and television, three burning candles, and a half-emptied glass of lemonade on a makeshift wood-crate coffee table told the story of someone’s recent presence.

“He can’t have gotten far.” Autumn’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. “We have to check the house.”

After flying down the stairs, she and Bree made the short trek across the tree-dotted yard to the main house, repeatedly checking their surroundings.

Autumn paused at the porch steps. “I’ll take the basement. You clear the first floor. We go upstairs together.”

“Perfect.”

They ascended the porch side by side, announcing themselves at the front door—to no response whatsoever—before turning the unlocked handle and entering the premises.

Autumn paused, taking in their surroundings.

Margaret’s mostly open-concept floor plan boasted high ceilings complete with thick wooden beams and hanging copper light fixtures. A beautiful main staircase, apparently the original oak woodwork, circled up the right side of the living room. The furniture, knickknacks, and decor gave a decidedly country chic vibe.

Bree let out a low whistle. “I guess Bethune’s inheritance worked out well for her. This house is beautiful. Too bad she won’t be seeing it again anytime soon.”

Spotting what could be a basement door off the kitchen, Autumn took off across the house. “Yell if you need me.” Despite the house being over a hundred years old, the staircase to the lower level was covered with a plush, stain-free cream carpeting leading to a wide-open room covered with more of the same.

Someone had put a lot of time and effort into remodeling the subterranean room into a cozy, modernized oasis complete with an electric fireplace, wide-screen television, and massive sectional couch strewn with pillows and thick crocheted blankets.

Perfect place to unwind after a long day of assisting convicted felons in their escape plots.

Autumn studied the space carefully, finding two attached rooms. One a squeaky-clean half bath, and the other a decked-out laundry room complete with stocked shelves showing off an array of laundry soap, stain-removing treatments, and fabric softeners.

In comparison to this house, Autumn’s one-bedroom apartment seemed more like a walk-in closet.

Schull wasn’t in the basement, and every minute ticking by was another chance for him to disappear again. Autumn scaled the basement stairs two at a time.

“First floor’s clear.” Bree’s gaze locked onto the stairs to the second floor. “I’m assuming the basement is as well?”

Autumn nodded, joining Bree and waving a hand upward. “We split at the top. I take rooms on the left. You take rooms on the right. We call out as soon as we spot him.”

The creak of the polished wooden steps betrayed the true age of the house, as well as the presence of two approaching federal agents. Autumn counted three doors on each side of the upstairs hallway. Wasting no time, she and Bree went their separate ways.

If Schull had set the entire thing up as a trap, they were walking right into it.

The first room was clean and well-kept with nothing in the closet aside from extra pillows and blankets. A guest room. The next appeared to be a bedroom repurposed as an office of sorts.

She nearly ran into Bree as she exited that second room.

“Two bedrooms. Both clear.” Bree pressed her lips into a thin line of frustration.

“Last ones.” Autumn stepped toward the final door on the left. “Be careful.”

Bree made a soundless entry across the hallway, and Autumn followed suit, entering a much smaller room full of labeled boxes and totes. A sewing machine was nestled into the corner with a stack of encyclopedias on top. A single window offered a ray of afternoon sunlight and a high view of the backside of the Bethune property.

“Where in the hell are you, Schull?” Autumn muttered as she took in the outdoor scene from a new vantage point.

Behind the thick row of evergreens edging the vast backyard, a flash of white caught her eye. Satellite imagery had shown nothing beyond the tree line. But the boxy shape in the distance peeking through the boughs had to be another shed. Autumn turned, her adrenaline pumping once again.

She opened her mouth to call out, but Bree cut her off. “Trent. You’ve gotta see this.”

A few strides took her straight from the storage room and across the hallway.

“Here.” Bree pointed at an open door nestled into the slanted ceiling of the far end of the room.

Autumn strode across the creaking hardwood floors and stuck her head into the closet. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Moving farther inside, she made room for Bree. Lit by a single string-pull bulb hanging from the closet ceiling, an elaborate display atop an ancient wood chest met them in all its disturbing glory.

Bree planted her hands on her hips and shook her head in disgust. “A shrine. For the Crucifier.”

Autumn shook her head. “Damn. Margaret’s a little more messed up than we realized.”

On the wall above the chest, push-pinned clippings of articles about Schull’s crimes and sentencing intermingled with handwritten Bible verses and mantras—no doubt from Schull himself. Strewn across the top of the chest sat some dried flowers, a few candles, and a multitude of cross jewelry.

Everything had been positioned to accentuate an eight-by-ten framed portrait…hand painted…of the Crucifier’s smiling face.

“Do you think Bethune painted this herself?” Bree crouched to get a better look. “It’s actually pretty good.”

“Great.” Autumn fought the urge to kick the painting straight in the pearly whites. “She can work on being the next Van Gogh while she’s in lockup.” She noted a deep drawer at the bottom of the chest and gently tugged it open. “Holy hell.”

Spread out inside the drawer were printed pictures of the Fabbri siblings next to a photograph of Marisol Atkins. Michael’s and Kevin’s pictures had pocketknives stuck through their chests into the bottom of the drawer. Alta and Marisol had two more pocketknives lying next to them.

The Crucifier’s end game had somehow become Margaret Bethune’s mission too. And the brainwashed woman wasn’t letting it go anytime soon.

Bree sucked in a sharp breath. “Well, I’d say Bethune’s all in on this one.”

“She’s drowning in the Crucifier’s Kool-Aid.” Autumn stepped out of the closet. “We need to check the shed out back past the tree line. But as soon as that building’s cleared, we need CSI in here to catalog all this garbage.”

After they found Schull—or concluded he wasn’t at the Bethune farm at all—she and Bree could comb over the entire property if they wanted to. Maybe more shrines were waiting. Or piles of handmade crosses Bethune had fashioned just for the love of her life to use in his holy ritual killings.

Perhaps they’d find rotting human sacrifices made to the almighty Schull for no other reason than she’d thought the blood offering might fuel his mission’s success.

But for now, making the final determination of whether the Crucifier was on the premises was their priority.

One building left.

Bree let out a long sigh, cracking her neck. “All right. Let’s do it. Daylight’s wasting.”

Autumn led the charge down the stairs and out the front door. They cleared the porch and barreled past the house and barn before taking off at a run for the stand of evergreens in the distance.

Pushing through the fragrant boughs, Autumn spotted the building in question. It, too, had been updated with the same clean white siding that matched the house and other outlying buildings. Tiny, though, and Autumn wondered if the construction had once been an outhouse.

She gestured toward the unlatched wooden door. “You open. I lead.”

But as Bree reached for the rusty-hinged handle, the door burst open, and the Crucifier stepped out with his arms raised, sporting the same wide smile of delirium as when Autumn last saw him.

“Agent Trent.” Schull’s voice dripped with happiness. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. I never doubted I would see you again.”

19

If Autumn and Bree hadn’t known Schull was a serial killer, he would’ve come off as a harmless, happy middle-aged man ecstatic to see a long-lost friend. His hazel eyes sparkled with gold in the sunlight, exuding a dangerously believable kindness. Autumn assumed his objectively handsome face had aided him in procuring Bethune’s devotion.

“Don’t look so thrilled, Wagner.” Autumn immediately wished she hadn’t used his first name. “You’re going back to prison, and my guess is you’re really not gonna like wherever they put you this time.”

Schull tilted his head. “I know you’re just doing your job, but please. Let’s not pretend we don’t want the same thing. The same person. Alta Fabbri murdered the love of your life. Tell me you don’t want her to pay for what she stole from you.”

Pain stabbed Autumn’s chest like tiny knives. She bit her lip. Schull wanted her to believe they were fighting the same good fight. He wanted her to slip into first-name territory.

“I don’t want to murder Alta Fabbri.” Autumn stepped closer to the man who’d taken such joy in hanging still-living human beings from crosses. “And I certainly don’t want to murder a baby. You’re trying to end an infant. That makes you a special kind of sick, Schull.”

She couldn’t afford to let her guard waver for a second, considering they were hunting the woman who’d murdered Aiden.

Schull waved one of his raised hands in a circle. “It’s all semantics. The bottom line is that we need to find Alta. Margie told me what happened this morning. How that savage woman attacked and killed and kidnapped. She’ll have to lay low as she slithers off to wherever she’s going, and I happen to have very helpful information regarding some hideouts the Fabbri family built long ago.”

Autumn grinned. “You mean the information Hindley Orgonne gave you about the trio of cabins he helped build? That information?”

His smile finally vanished. “You spoke with Hindley? I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me. But I’d bet my hat you don’t know where the cabins are. Hindley wouldn’t be dumb enough to share that information with you fine folks.”

Infuriated by Schull’s calm confidence, Autumn forced herself to keep cool. “You’re right. Orgonne wouldn’t give us the specifics. It’s amazing what the fear of having your family nailed to a cross can do to shut a man’s mouth.”

“No need to fret, Agent Trent. Hindley gave me the addresses…approximate addresses anyway.” He tapped his forehead. “All the information you need is right up here.”

“What we need is to cuff this man,” Bree interjected for the first time since Schull’s jack-in-the-box appearance. “You wanna do it, or do I get the honors?”

“I’ll do it.” Autumn rounded Schull, pulling out her cuffs with one hand and grabbing his wrists behind his back with the other. “Wagner Schull, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…”

Schull made no effort to resist as Autumn rattled off his Miranda rights. Rather, he struck up a pleasant conversation with Bree. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Agent…?”

Bree flashed Autumn a quick glance. “Agent Bree Stafford.”

“Ah. I remember reading about you when I did research on the Behavioral Analysis Unit. The reports made it sound as if you’d moved on to a different department, but I’m so glad to see you’re in action with Agent Trent. She’s just the best. Isn’t she?”

Not so much as flinching, Bree took the strange comment in stride. “She’s great.”

Schull bobbed his head in agreement. “Exactly. I’m a huge fan of hers and the Richmond BAU’s. Yours as well. And as you’ll soon come to find out, we’re all on the same team here. We all want to stop Alta Fabbri.”

“Stop. Not kill.” Bree stepped closer to Schull, gun still drawn. “I’m not sure you comprehend the difference. We,” she waved a finger from Autumn to herself, “are not a part of a team that kills.”

“Of course not.” Schull chuckled. “Job parameters and all that. Anyway, I can lead you to the Fabbri hideouts. We can go there right now.”

Autumn wanted to tell him to shut his damn mouth and take a last look around at the blue sky he would likely never see again except for minuscule spurts here and there.

But he has the exact information I need. I can’t deny that.

The swift contact she’d made with Schull as she cuffed him had all but confirmed he was sincere. Heartfelt, even, in his own demented way.

Though the thought made her sick to her stomach, Autumn considered accepting the awful truth. The success of tracking down Alta Fabbri before the maniacal woman could kill Marisol, or at the very least disappear with the baby, might depend solely on none other than the Crucifier.

Autumn looked over the expansive green lawn of Margaret Bethune’s property. “I’ll call SSA Mullen and update him on our apprehension. Find out what he wants us to do.”

“Mullen’ll tell us to bring Schull in.” Bree raised an eyebrow. “He won’t trust a word coming out of this guy’s mouth.”

Schull shook his head rapidly. “I don’t lie. Your new supervisor, Agent Mullen, might not realize that yet, but I assure you Aiden Parrish knew I was a man of my word. Agent Trent can vouch for me. She’s deeply aware of the kind of man I am.”

“Please stop talking,” Autumn snapped at Schull. “I’m deeply aware that you’re capable of horrific, unbelievable violence as well as lying.”

Schull’s shoulders slumped. “Autumn, we both know that’s not entirely true. Whatever you think of my mission, I do not lie. Let me take you to the first location. It’s not even a full hour away. Bring a team of burly officers if it makes you feel better, but let me help.”

“I’m calling Mullen.” Autumn ripped herself away from the Crucifier’s piercing hazel eyes. “Watch him.”

Taking a few steps away, she pulled out her phone. Bree was correct. Mullen certainly wouldn’t okay a plan that involved taking off for a place that might not even exist solely on the word of a convicted felon.

Immediately seeing a missed message from Winter, Autumn took a momentary detour and opened it.

Believe it or not, we figured out that you weren’t coming back for breakfast after four hours. No worries. I’ll see you whenever you get home. Just making sure you’re all right.

“Shit.” Autumn’s fingers moved rapidly across the screen. Had they really sat at The Lyft for hours waiting on her?

I’m fine but slammed. I’ll call as soon as I can.

She wanted to tell Winter more but didn’t have time. The Crucifier was standing a mere ten feet away. And Alta was still out there with Charity and Marisol.

Autumn called Gil Mullen next but hit the SSA’s voicemail three times before giving up. She then typed out a text message with the basics of what had transpired.

No one can say I didn’t try.

Turning back toward Bree and their detainee, Autumn pocketed her phone and prepared herself for her colleague’s pushback. “Mullen isn’t answering.”

Bree stiffened. “The only reason Mullen wouldn’t answer is because something big’s happening. Something important.”

“Agreed.” Autumn gestured at Schull. “But we won’t know what that is until he calls back. In the meantime, there’s no harm in driving toward the first cabin while waiting for his response. We can see just how full of shit our man here is.”

“The absolute second we get the order to turn around,” Bree’s features tightened with a quiet ferocity she rarely revealed, “we do it. We’re going to get absolute hell for even heading that way based on this asshole’s story, but I’m sure as shit not letting you go alone.”

Autumn understood Bree’s hesitation. But nobody could talk her out of going for a Fabbri hideout.

“So we’re all agreed.” Schull beamed. “You’re going to take a chance on my intel, and I’m going to prove to Agent Stafford I’m an honorable man.”

Stepping around Schull, Bree grabbed him by the cuffs. “You will never, ever prove that to anyone. Any chance you had of being an honorable man is dead and buried with all your victims.”

Schull’s jaw flexed, and for a moment, Autumn was certain his calm and friendly demeanor would finally crack. Instead, he took a deep breath through his nostrils as his smile returned. “Seeing is believing, Agent Stafford. In time⁠—”

“In time nothing.” Bree gave the cuffs a shake, causing Schull to lose his balance and teeter for a moment before she steadied him.

“Don’t let him suck you in. It’s what he wants. Wagner feeds off others’ emotions.” Autumn caught Bree’s gaze and held it. “We need to go. This isn’t about him or you or me or Mullen. We need to find Charity and Marisol. Stop Alta and put her behind bars. And return this animal to his cage.”

Schull’s brows stitched together as he lowered his gaze. Autumn would’ve assumed she’d hurt his feelings…if she believed he was truly capable of having any.

20

Charity pressed Marisol to her chest as she followed Alta across a short paved driveway toward the back door of a small cabin. The roads they’d taken to get to this place were so varied and winding, she couldn’t have recited the directions to anyone.

Sometimes gravel. Sometimes paved. One road nothing more than dirt.

All she knew was that they were most certainly deep in the middle of nowhere, and nowhere was a thick, forested world that might as well have been another planet.

No one will ever find us here.

Obviously, that was the point.

Alta typed an unbelievably long code into a keypad near the doorknob, pushed the door open, and turned to Charity with a triumphant smile. “Musty as hell but still standing. My father was a wise man.” She shooed her captives inside, closing and locking the door behind them before flicking on the overhead lights.

Glancing around, Charity was less than impressed. One room seemed to serve as the kitchen and living area. A pair of doors at the end of the room suggested only two other areas of living space, one of which, she reasoned, had to be a bathroom.

She’d expected something grander from such an all-powerful Mafia family.

“The water should be running.” Alta pointed a perfectly manicured fingernail toward the kitchen area. “Mix up some of that formula junk you brought. I don’t need a hungry baby making a fuss when it’s time to move to the next stop.”

Charity dropped the diaper bag to the floor, kneeling carefully with Marisol to retrieve the formula. She’d never regretted her decision to wean her baby from breastfeeding a month ago more than she did right now. They needed distilled water. Plus, Alta would be less likely to kill her if Marisol depended on breastmilk completely.

“How many next stops are there? Babies aren’t exactly known for their love of traveling.” The snark in her own voice surprised her, but Alta seemed to take no notice.

“You’re smart enough to know I’m not going to give you that information.” The brunette busied herself with touching up her lipstick in a tiny mirror from her purse. “Curiosity killed the cat. If I told you, I’d have to kill you. You can’t handle the truth. All that clichéd bullshit is actually true.”

Charity carefully measured scoops and poured them into a pink bottle as Marisol watched, squirming and eager to get her hands on the meal. As she worked, Charity allowed herself more questions.

“There are no windows in here.” She glanced around, genuinely curious as to why. “Don’t you need to see if someone’s coming? If they find this place somehow, I mean.”

Alta laughed, dropping the vanity items back into her purse. “That doesn’t seem likely, does it?” She twirled a finger above her head. “There are plenty of peepholes in this cabin. You just haven’t noticed them yet.”

The conversational tone Alta had taken on gave Charity hope. Not that the woman would have a change of heart and let her and her baby go, but that Alta might just have an almost human side to her personality. She seemed to be getting comfortable having Charity around.

Maybe she’ll begin to see me as more of a companion than a hostage. If I play my cards right.

“That’s kind of cool.” Charity lowered herself to a sitting position on the floor with Marisol on her lap, not even bothering to ask for a chair. “I didn’t really know places like this existed. It’s like a hideout, right?”

Alta froze, locking her narrowed eyes on Charity, who braced herself for the woman to call bullshit.

I came on too strong.

But as smart as Alta Fabbri was, she did seem to enjoy the forced awe on Charity’s face. “A family like mine has to be prepared, so yeah. You could call it a hideout. One of many.”

Charity bit her tongue to hold back the acidic comment dying to fly past her lips. The Fabbris certainly hadn’t been prepared enough, seeing as how only one of them remained. Two, if you counted Marisol, and Charity refused to do that.

“It’s like being in a movie.” Charity nodded, continuing to gaze around the single, unfurnished room as though she’d just stepped foot in the Taj Mahal. “A lot more exciting than what I’m used to.”

Alta raised an eyebrow, flashing a no shit, Sherlock eye roll her way. “Too bad Kevin didn’t take you more seriously. If you hadn’t just been one of his fuck buddies, he might’ve brought you into the family. Shown you our world.”

The very idea of being that close to Kevin after he’d shown himself to be nothing more than a selfish dick of a man made Charity nauseous. But she dutifully swallowed the emotion. “I guess he just didn’t think I was good enough. But I kind of get it now. If you’re a part of something this complicated, it’s gotta make normal girls look pretty boring.”

“There you go.” Alta nodded, a thin smile showing her approval. “You thought he was a jerk, and maybe he was, but he had good reason to be. Fabbris have more to worry about than the average person. Power brings stress. If anything, he might’ve thought he was protecting you by shutting you out.”

Whatever helps you sleep at night, bitch.

Charity tightened her arms around Marisol. Alta was far more creative with her excuses for Kevin’s failures than she’d expected. But it all went with the narcissistic territory, she imagined. A Fabbri couldn’t possibly be in the wrong for anything. Especially not when it involved a peasant like Charity Atkins and her bastard child.

“Right.” She forced herself to smile. “That would make sense. And it would make me feel so much better about it all. I really loved your brother, Alta. I would’ve done anything for him. Followed him anywhere. It broke my heart when he didn’t want to be with me.”

Alta slid to the floor across the room, leaning back against the wall and shaking her head. “Kevin wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, but he was my brother, and he never should’ve died the way he did. Bullshit agents and their bullshit promises.”

“The government is pretty twisted.” Charity had no idea what she was saying at this point, but so long as it pleased Alta Fabbri, she didn’t care. “Full of assholes who don’t give a damn about the people they’re supposed to protect. Kevin’s proof of that, I guess.”

A jeering chuckle poured out of Alta’s mouth. “So’s your mother.” She pulled her knees to her chest, peering at Charity like an intriguing science experiment. “You seem pretty okay for someone who just watched her mommy get shot in the head. Especially considering I’m the one who did the shooting. Don’t you just hate my guts right now?”

Some deeply buried feral instinct ripped through Charity’s body, sending rage and adrenaline pulsing through every inch of her soul. For a moment, she thought she might attack Alta with her bare hands.

But the gurgle of little Marisol, hungrily downing her bottle and blissfully unaware of the misfortune that had befallen her grandmother that morning, brought Charity back to her senses.

“As it turns out,” she did her best impression of a snarl, “my mother was a bitch and a half. I couldn’t fucking stand her, and if anything, you did me a favor.”

The visible glow in Alta’s eyes made Charity’s stomach turn. This woman, who had murdered her defenseless mother in cold blood, was absolutely delighted to hear such a declaration come out of her mouth.

“I can relate to that better than you realize.” Alta stood, brushing the front of her pants. “If there’d been a way to do it, I would’ve taken out the hag that raised me years before her heart attack did.”

Laughing as though Alta had just cracked the world’s best joke, Charity blinked away the tears burning the corners of her eyes.

“I don’t really have any other family.” Charity let out a contented sigh, lifting her shoulders in the most nonchalant manner she could manage. “So even if I’m just the rent-a-nanny, the only real loyalty I have left is to you and Marisol.”

“You just remember that if we run into any trouble. Me and the kid. You’ve got nothing else.” Alta pointed to the pair of doors. “Use the bathroom if you need to. We’ll be leaving soon. And make sure to change the brat’s diaper. And lose those contacts. You look ridiculous.”

Charity couldn’t wait to take the irritating blue things out of her eyes.

“We’re leaving already?” She hoped the heavy disappointment didn’t sound as obvious as it felt. What chance did she and Marisol stand of being rescued if Alta kept them bouncing around like a pinball in a machine?

You’re making progress. Winning her over. Don’t screw it up now.

Alta crossed her arms, proudly gazing around the barren cabin. “I’ve just got to collect a few things. And then it’s on to the next stash house. Smart people spread their goodies out like squirrels. There’s a reason those fuckers live through the winter.”

21

Winter made the drive to Richmond’s Inner-West District morgue with a lead foot and millions of brewing uncertainties overtaking her thoughts. Jewel didn’t seem to mind her companion’s silence at all, and Winter figured the limited reprieve had to be a relief from the incessant voices at the cemetery.

“Curb okay?” Winter pulled to a stop in front of the building.

Jewel opened the door. “This works. The ambulance will be delivering the body through the back entrance. I’ll have to meet with them and go over the paperwork and incident information with the accompanying paramedics and cops. After I get the body settled, I’ll touch base with you about, um…”

“About whether this one’s a talker?” Winter couldn’t help cracking a grin. “You want me to wait out here?”

“No. Of course not.” Jewel grabbed her purse and exited Winter’s car. “We have an incredibly nice lobby. Coffee and soda and snacks. Magazines. A fish tank. The whole bit. Come make yourself comfortable.”

Winter followed Jewel up the sidewalk and stairs, wondering exactly how comfortable anyone could truly be in a morgue. But sitting alone for a while would give her a chance to process the myriad of deliberations currently marching circles in her brain.

Or so she thought.

After Jewel disappeared to tend to all the unpleasant medical examiner duties awaiting her, Winter settled onto a soft leather sofa with a fresh cup of steaming hot coffee. She managed to get a single sip down before the headache hit.

Just a slight throbbing at first but growing angrier by the second.

“Crap.” She placed her cup on the coffee table and snatched up a tissue from the box beside the magazines. “Here we go.”

She caught the first drip of blood, and the second, but as the vicious vise tightened around her temples, she struggled to keep her eyes open. Leaning back against the sofa cushions, she welcomed the blackout.

Winter stumbled down a cracked sidewalk, surrounded by a cold, misty fog. Not a soul in sight, but she had the distinct feeling of being watched. She stumbled to the right, realizing she’d stepped onto a road paved with yellow bricks and flanked by tall weeds blowing in the breeze.

Alarmed and distrusting the phenomenon, she retreated to the sidewalk on the other side of the line of weeds.

As the fog lifted, she could see shops on the street. A beauty parlor. A shoe store. A guitar shop. All with closed signs in their windows. Farther down, a giant slice of pizza flashed on a neon sign, with the words Secret Recipe in squiggly pink boasting the restaurant’s product.

Winter walked toward the lights, still seeing no one in the strange, yellow-brick-road neighborhood with three-foot weeds climbing out of the sidewalk. At the pizza joint, the windows were all painted black.

“No.” She slammed a fist against the glass. “Let me in. Let me in.”

“You don’t belong here,” a husky male voice responded from nowhere and everywhere at once. “Go home.”

Winter’s limbs began to go numb. She swayed weakly, certain she would fall if she didn’t⁠—

“Oh, my god.” Jewel Plath’s soft voice brought Winter back to the morgue lobby. “You’re bleeding. Winter? Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

Coming back to her senses, Winter met her new friend’s worried gaze and accepted the wad of tissues the doctor pushed into her hand.

Tell me I didn’t bleed on the doc’s couch.

She hadn’t. Only on her white t-shirt.

“Do I need to call 911?” Jewel moved toward the receptionist’s desk.

“No.” Winter waved one hand at Jewel while pressing the tissues to her nose with the other. “That was…one of my episodes. The vision thingies I told you about.”

“Oh.” Jewel froze. “What’d you see?”

Winter recalled the absurd, short-lived dream. “Nothing that makes one bit of sense.” She sighed. “What about the arrival? Talker or no? What’s the story?”

Jewel’s brows stitched together. “Talker. And you won’t believe this. He was a federal agent. Shot in the head by another federal agent from the Richmond BAU.”

“What?” Winter stood, still holding her nose. “Did they tell you who?”

“Keaton Holland did the shooting.” Jewel pointed toward the hallway. “And I think Gerald Brady, that was his name, is trying to tell me something else.”

Winter gave a vehement shake of her head. “Keaton wouldn’t murder anyone. If he shot someone, he had no choice.”

“But if the dead person believes they were wronged,” Jewel tilted her head, “maybe that’s enough to prevent them from resting in peace. Agent Holland may’ve done exactly what was necessary. That doesn’t mean Brady agrees.”

“Can I go with you to wherever he is? You can tell me what he’s saying.” Winter didn’t have a clue as to the connections between all the randomness of the day, but surely, some thread tied it all together.

“Yes. Follow me.” Jewel took off for the hallway, curls bouncing like springs with each determined step.

Winter stayed as close behind as possible, barely registering the white walls and clinically clean surroundings as she followed Jewel to a door marked Stairs and descended into the much cooler basement level of the building.

Jewel led her to a room with a giant viewing window making up one of the outside walls. “I can’t legally let you in there. But he’s on that table. Under the sheet. And I can hear him from out here.”

“What’s he saying?” Winter watched as Jewel contemplated the corpse.

“‘I wasn’t gonna pull the trigger. Shoulda told that bitch about the pizza place. Let her take him out for real.’” Jewel lifted her shoulders, flashing Winter an apologetic glance. “I have no idea what that means.”

Winter didn’t understand it either, not exactly, but she sensed some puzzle pieces drifting closer together. “The vision I just had. A pizza shop on a street full of closed businesses. The street was made of yellow brick. Yes. Like the damn movie.”

Jewel raised an eyebrow. “You think your vision is connected to what I heard? How?”

“I don’t know yet.” Winter whipped her phone from her pocket, pulling up a map of Richmond and typing in word after word, attempting to get a hit.

Yellow brick. Yellowstone. Yellowfish. Yellow…

“What are you doing?” Jewel leaned against the glass, crossing her arms and observing Winter with the calm patience her career demanded.

“Flower. What’s a yellow flower?” Winter tapped her thumb rapidly, racking her brain for answers.

“Um. Tulips can be yellow. Daffodils, sunflowers, roses, lilies.” Jewel bit her lip in concentration. “Marigolds are yellow and orange.”

“Gold.” Winter envisioned the bricks again. They’d glistened slightly. Shined a little despite the fog. And the weeds weren’t dead, now that she thought about it. They were in bloom.

“We’re going with gold now?” Jewel switched gears without hesitation or any demands for explanation. “What about goldenrod? Or some variants of California poppies.”

Winter typed as fast as her fingers allowed, preparing to tell Jewel they should probably exit the floral arena as nothing showed up.

Goldenrod Boulevard stopped her in her tracks. Yes, everything in the vision had been gold, including the weeds.

Zooming in on the map until business names appeared, Winter spotted a section of the road with a barber shop, a beauty parlor, a shoe store, a guitar shop…and a pizza place.

Bonchovies Pizza and Motley Brew. Definitely a long way off from the pink Secret Recipe sign, but this is all I’ve got.

Winter hit the button that would give her directions. The restaurant was in a rougher section of Richmond that was brimming with business until the introduction of mega department stores and, more recently, internet shopping.

“Twenty minutes.” She pocketed her phone and headed for the stairs.

“What?” Jewel called after her. “Twenty minutes to what?”

“I’m not sure.” Winter wished she could offer more. “But that’s where I’m going. Come with me if you want.”

“Drop me at The Lyft after so I can get my car?” Jewel’s footsteps echoed off the basement walls as she followed.

“You got it, Doc.”

Winter drove down Goldenrod Boulevard at a snail’s pace, noting that every business she’d seen in her vision was open. Except for the pizza place. No neon slice hung in the sky announcing Bonchovies. Just a rusting sign above storefront windows that revealed an abandoned restaurant. A few tables and chairs. A cash register. But the place was long out of business.

“We’re going in there.” Winter parked on the relatively empty road. That much of her vision had been accurate.

Jewel peered out the passenger window. “I’m pretty sure it’s closed down.”

“Yep.” Winter swung her door open. “Still going in.”

“Maybe I’ll wait for you in the car.” Jewel’s tone betrayed her unwillingness to break any trespassing laws.

Winter flashed her a smile. “I’ll be right back.” She shut the door and hustled toward the entrance, glancing around for any lookie-loos and spotting none. One push followed by a hard yank assured her the front door wasn’t the best bet for getting inside.

Even if the closed-down pizza joint didn’t have security cameras, every other business on the stretch of road likely did.

She jetted for the alleyway. Empty and dotted with litter, the pavement was more cracks and grass than roadway.

“I don’t know why I’m here, but I know I came for a reason.” She jogged down the passageway, noting three high-set barred windows.

Those definitely weren’t entry options either.

A garage door, with no handle to raise it, took up the entire wall, save for a small red door with an opaque glass window in its center. An exit sign above flickered on and off.

Remote controlled only, huh? I guess it’s the back exit or nothing. Watch me end up in jail tonight. That’ll be a great story to take home to Texas.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She might be able to bust the glass with her elbow. If that didn’t work, she could retrieve her service weapon from her car and try a little harder.

Winter turned sideways, lifting her arm and bracing herself for a painful—and likely unsuccessful—attempt at breaking and entering.

A split second before she pulled her elbow back, a husky voice broke through the silence. “You don’t belong here. Go home.”

Just like the vision.

Winter swung around, attempting to spot a speaker or camera she’d missed on first approach. “I’m not leaving. I need to get inside.”

Surely if she could hear them, they could hear her.

If the voice asked her why, she was going to have one hell of a time explaining herself.

But the voice said nothing further. Winter waited for as long as her patience allowed before declaring, “I’m coming in! One way or another.”

I could be talking to a gangster drug dealer with an assault rifle aimed right at me. What the hell am I doing right now?

She wanted to kick herself for not having her gun. Just as she was centering her core to throw a kick and second-guessing this vision-based adventure⁠—

The door swung open, and Winter froze.

Aiden Parrish looked back at her, thinner than she’d ever seen him, but alive.

Alive.

22

Autumn dropped her phone into her lap, all too aware of Bree’s frustrated glances from the driver’s seat. “He’s still not answering.”

“What the hell could he possibly be doing?” Bree slammed a hand on the steering wheel. “It’s been almost an hour. Long enough for the Crucifier to take a nap in our cozy back seat while we drive our dumb asses even farther into the middle of nowhere.”

“Not all that cozy, Agent Stafford,” Schull piped up behind them, his tone obnoxiously cheerful. “But it goes with the territory. And we’re definitely on the way to a specific place. I promise you. A few more turns, and we’ll be there. You don’t need this Mullen person to answer his phone to establish that I’m telling the truth.”

“Maybe something happened to him.” Autumn pondered the possibility of losing another team member as the trees grew thicker around them.

What would I do if we found out Mullen was dead? Cry? I don’t have any tears left. And I’m not sure I’d waste them on that man even if I did.

Bree gave an adamant shake of her head. “No. Someone would’ve let us know by now. He’s busy. Hopefully that means they’re on Brady’s tracks. They might’ve even found the bastard.”

“That’d be great.” Autumn gestured toward the highway. “And meanwhile, we’re on the hunt for Alta’s hideouts with a fully formed and logical plan. Not making half-assed, irresponsible decisions. We’re trying to find the perpetrator. It’s our job, and Mullen can’t be mad about that.”

“Trying to find the perpetrator based on information from the other perpetrator.” Bree kept her focus on the road. “You know Mullen’s going to shit kittens over this.”

“Unless he’s dead.” Schull inserted himself once again. “Death does seem to have a way of finding you folks, despite the nobility of your unit. And either way, I’m not really a bad guy. Misunderstood? Certainly. Bad? No. I don’t believe I have a bad bone in my body.”

Growling at the rearview mirror, Bree refused to take the bait.

“Wagner.” Autumn turned, gaining his sole focus. “Let’s try quiet time again, shall we?”

He tilted his head, grinning at Autumn like she was his favorite person on Earth. “If I’m quiet, I can’t tell you the next turn is just a mile down the road. You’ll want to take a right. And you’re welcome, by the way, that I committed all this incredibly useful information to memory.”

Autumn glanced at Bree. “You got that?”

“Got it.” Bree worked her jaw in circles. “I’m not deaf. But I still say we’re dumb for doing this.”

Settling back into the passenger seat, Autumn spotted the turn up ahead. “There has to be a part of you that believes him, or you wouldn’t be here. I know you. You would’ve refused to come.”

Bree slowed the SUV just enough to steer onto the gravel road Schull indicated. “I believe that if this place exists, he’s only leading us there for his own purposes. An ambush, maybe. And just so we’re clear, I know you, Autumn. I had no doubt you’d take off for this little hideout that may or may not exist. I came because I didn’t want you going off on your own and getting yourself hurt.”

Guilt crept down Autumn’s spine in icy tendrils. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry that we came?” Bree snapped the question.

“No.” Autumn couldn’t bring herself to lie. “I’m sorry you’re only here because you felt the need to protect me. I would’ve been fine doing this alone.”

Bree let out a mirthless chuckle. “That’s where you’re wrong. You remember Nightmare Forest? How we all set off alone? Remember how well that went down? We’re better when we’re together. Stronger. Safer. I didn’t come back to the BAU to watch you die.”

The words hit like a knife to Autumn’s heart. She’d never been careless or reckless. Her career path had required logic, patience, and carefully checked compassion. Bree spoke of her like she was a renegade on the loose just looking for trouble.

“Slow down a bit, Agent Stafford.” Schull spoke like the tense moment between the agents wasn’t taking place at all. “You’ll see a turn to the left coming up. It’ll look like a dirt path, but it’s a road. Or at least, it used to be. If Alta’s at this place, that’s how she got there.”

The calm in Wagner Schull’s pleasant voice struck a nerve in Autumn’s chest. “Why are you even doing this? Leading us to Alta’s cabin? There’s nothing in this for you. You’re restrained in a veritable cage. Locked in like an animal. You have zero chance of getting to Alta or that baby. No opportunity to kill either of them.”

“Oh, Autumn.” Schull spoke to her as though she were a petulant child. “I’m not worried about finding an opportunity to kill Alta. I don’t think I’ll need one.”

Bree pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Why does he keep saying shit like that? What’s going on between you two?”

Autumn’s jaw dropped as Schull burst into laughter. “She’s on to us, Agent Trent. That’s how clear our connection is. I’ve been trying to tell you all along⁠—”

“Shut your damn mouth!” Autumn screamed through the mesh cage, turning her wrath on Bree immediately after. “You claim to know me. If you did, you’d be certain there’s absolutely nothing going on between me and this convicted felon. Murderer. Psychopath.”

“He thinks otherwise.” Bree’s softened tone bordered on apologetic as she turned onto the dirt path Schull had described. “It’s off-putting.”

“Tell me about it.” Autumn wanted to scream again but reminded herself this was all part of Schull’s plan to divide and conquer. “He’s insane. No way around it. And yes, he’s holding out hope in that insanity that I’ll also lose my mind and morals and dedication to a sworn duty to protect life, not end it, but that’s his delusion. I want to save Charity and Marisol and stop Alta. Period.”

Bree reached out to pat Autumn’s arm. “I’m sorry. It’s my first case back, and the stakes are high as hell. Of course you’re just trying to do the right thing. I know that.”

Still fuming and struggling to contain those flames, Autumn took a deep breath and turned to Schull once again. “I am not a killer. No matter what Alta took from me, I will not kill her. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”

The Crucifier looked deeply into her eyes, saying nothing for a few moments before breaking into his usual maddening grin. “Accidents happen, though, don’t they, Autumn? We’re almost there.”

23

Winter’s breath locked in her throat. The world tilted. No…no, this couldn’t be real.

She stumbled back a step, grabbing the doorframe like it might anchor her to reality. “You’re…you’re not…”

“Dead?” Aiden’s voice cracked around a ghost of a smile. “Guess I owe you a hell of an explanation.”

A choked sound threatened to strangle her—half laugh, half sob. “You son of a bitch.”

He winced but said nothing to dispute the fact.

“You’re alive.” Her whisper grew louder, sharper, like her heart had finally caught up to her brain. “You’re alive!”

Emotion surged too fast to understand or contain. Before Winter even knew what she was doing, she smacked his chest with the flat of her palm. Once. Again. It was real. He was real. As a final test, she pressed it there, felt his heartbeat. His warmth. His aliveness.

The liar.

She pulled her hand away as if scalded. “You let us bury you.”

“Winter, I⁠—”

“You let Autumn break.” She took a step closer and shoved him again. “You let her shatter, Aiden.”

“I had to.” He grabbed her wrists, eyes pleading. “It was the only way to protect her.”

“You were everything to her.” She wrenched free from his touch. “You were ours. And you left us to drown in your absence.”

“I know.” He pressed his palms to his temples. “I’ve seen it. She’s been under surveillance. I’ve watched her fall apart.”

Winter clenched her fists at her side so she wouldn’t shove him again…or do something worse. “And you still stayed away?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

She wanted to scream. To hit him again. To wrap her arms around him and cry like a child. But she did none of those things. She just stood there, staring at the man who was supposed to be a memory.

“Let me guess…you escaped down a manhole just seconds before the explosion.” That was why her special ability had painted the street red.

“Yes.”

“Autumn’s on the verge of killing Alta Fabbri.” Winter trembled with rage over the pain her best friend had gone through. The pain she also endured. “She thinks she won’t do it, that she isn’t capable. And I believe she believes it. But she’s a different person now. You changed her, and I’m not sure what she’ll do if she gets to Alta first.”

“She won’t have the chance.” Aiden took a wary step closer. “Everyone’s convening at the field office to reveal the secret operation. She’ll know Alta never laid a hand on me. And we’ll catch the woman together.”

A wave of relief washed over Winter. If nothing else, her best friend wouldn’t be a murderer by the end of the day. But Aiden’s reappearance after the hell he’d buried Autumn in wouldn’t go over smoothly. “How could you do this to her? To any of us?” Winter’s voice cracked, her eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall.

“I told you. I had no choice.” Aiden glanced at his watch. “It was the only way to protect her. And the rest of you. We’ll talk soon. I don’t know how you found me, but I guess this isn’t the first time I haven’t understood your abnormal, above-average instincts. Please let me be the one to tell Autumn. And mention this to no one else. Promise me.”

Winter barked out a dry laugh. “Fine. I promise. And my word still means something, Aiden.”

He flinched as though she’d actually hit him. “That’s fair.” He lowered his gaze.

“I knew you’d never be that quiet!” That inner voice had nudged her at his grave, told her that he wasn’t dead. Wasn’t there.

“Be that quiet?” Aiden looked confused. And for good reason. “What?”

“Never mind. It’s nothing.”

He didn’t move, and if she wasn’t watching him so closely, she wouldn’t have even known he was breathing. Not until tears glistened in his eyes. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

Winter wasn’t willing to speak for Autumn, and after everything her best friend had been through, she couldn’t be sure of the incoming storm or its aftermath. “I don’t know.”

“And you?” Aiden looked more like a sleep-deprived child than a highly respected federal agent. “Do you forgive me?”

Winter backed away at the question, preparing to flee the unimaginable run-in with a dead man as quickly as her feet would carry her. “Do I forgive you?” She searched the face of her former boss and longtime friend, her stomach clenching tight. “Not today, Aiden. Not today.”

24

Keaton strode down the quiet hallway leading to the BAU offices with a heavy heart. He hadn’t experienced a single “easy day” as a federal agent since first joining the Violent Crime Unit in D.C. But some days were harder than others, and he figured this twenty-four-hour period would haunt him for its specific brand of disturbing.

Roman gave him a nudge as they moved. “Don’t let desk duty get you down. It’s only temporary while they review the incident. I know it sucks, but you had to fire your weapon. Try not to let Brady’s death get to you too much either. He didn’t give you a choice.”

“I know.” Keaton appreciated his colleague more than he knew how to express in this moment. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

While Keaton certainly didn’t feel great about having taken a human life, he agreed with Roman. Brady hadn’t given him a choice. In no world would Keaton have stood by while a teammate was gunned down.

Something else ate away at Keaton’s core. A darker, ugly reality that played out like a Shakespearean tragedy right before his eyes in the Motel Sleep parking lot.

Special Agent Gerald Brady was dead and would never be taken into custody, but even if the man had lived, Keaton didn’t believe any prison cell or rehabilitation system in this world could return the man’s moral code to its former nature.

Brady’s steely, emotionless gaze and soulless words about his own family painted a picture of an agent forever jaded. Compromised with no regret.

Lost.

“It’s almost worse.” Keaton had spoken aloud, not having meant to.

Roman slowed beside him. “What is?”

Wishing he’d kept his mouth shut, Keaton attempted to explain the thread of thought. “Someone like Brady going bad. Selling his soul or whatever you want to call it. The guy was all in. A federal freaking agent. That’s about as dedicated as it gets, and he gave everything up.”

“Right.” Roman came to a stop outside the breakroom door. “Good guy gone bad is about as maddening as they come. But in the end, he paid for what he did. Justice smacked him over the head just like it does any other LEO who goes dirty.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Keaton’s stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since his protein shake early that morning. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…agents like Brady, regardless of if they make it to a trial and sentencing and whatever else, almost seem more hopeless than some of the killers we’ve taken in.”

Roman pushed his way into the breakroom, heading for the vending machines. “I’ve gotta mow down a sandwich before my stomach eats itself.” He hit a few buttons on the snack machine. “But go on. Brady was a lost cause, but what? Someone like the Crucifier isn’t?”

Selecting a water bottle and a granola bar after Roman retrieved his order, Keaton shook his head. “I wouldn’t go that far. Wagner Schull’s insane. That’s a whole other beast. But someone like, say, Alta Fabbri. Born into a crime family, finding out what she was a part of at a young age, growing up brainwashed into believing mob life was the way. Sure, she’s done terrible things and needs to be locked up, but she has a chance. She’s never understood being ‘good.’ She might still find the light.”

“I get it.” Roman ripped the plastic wrapper from his ham-and-cheese. “Brady purposely turned his back on what he knew was right. He stopped caring. Went stone cold and evil on purpose. Alta’s grown up with a mentality that was always stone cold and evil based on her family. She could still have an epiphany. Turn it all around.”

“Exactly.” Keaton didn’t bother sitting. He wanted to get back into the office and touch base with the team. “What Brady did is just sickening. Hacks away at your faith in humanity.”

Roman chewed a giant bite of his sandwich and swallowed before speaking. “Don’t waste too much time tossing that around in your head. Brady let himself become jaded. You’re never gonna understand why ’cause you’re better than that, buddy. And honestly, I gotta believe that even for a traitor like Brady, there was a light at the end of the tunnel if he’d chosen to see it.”

Keaton peered at Roman, hoping the day never came when anyone or anything broke the man’s spirit. In their line of work, they’d certainly face more challenges. Roman’s easygoing nature wasn’t going to up and die on him, but the guy’s good-humored armor would inevitably crack the longer his career lasted.

That was simply the truth.

“Wow.” Sun Ming’s voice sent a jolt of shock through Keaton’s brain. “For two federal agents, you guys are about as oblivious as preschoolers. I’ve been sitting here this entire time, listening to every word of your sentimental after-school-special convo. Gotta say, I’m feeling all fuzzy inside now.”

To be fair, Sun was all but hidden at a two-seater table in the corner, camouflaged behind a giant ficus. But that fact did little to curb Keaton’s instant embarrassment.

“You’re back.” He opted to ignore her jibe entirely, always the first and best line of defense against Sun’s snark. “I guess Mullen’s waiting for us in the office?”

She wrinkled her nose in apparent displeasure. “Nope. We’re under strict orders not to enter the office, actually. Some type of top-secret meeting going on in there.”

“What?” Keaton set his granola bar on the nearest table, no longer hungry. “A top-secret meeting in the BAU office that BAU agents aren’t allowed to attend?”

Roman’s eyebrows shot high. “The heck could that be about? Maybe we’re in trouble.”

The speculation was fair, but Keaton didn’t buy it. Gil Mullen wasn’t the type of man to keep his misgivings to himself. If the team had messed up, they would’ve been the first to know.

“You have to do something wrong to be in trouble.” Keaton spun a finger, indicating all of them. “To my knowledge, we haven’t. But it’s gotta be about something big.”

Sun rubbed her temples in swift circles. “Bigger than Alta Fabbri and Wagner Schull put together? Because Mullen literally dropped the case and came running after one single mysterious phone call.”

“What about Autumn and Bree?” Roman eyed the breakroom door. “Where are they right now?”

“Still going after Schull, as far as I know.” Sun stood, wiping her hands with a napkin and tossing it at the trash can. “But they might’ve checked in with Mullen by now. What we really need⁠—”

The door swung open so hard, the hinges squeaked. SSA Mullen entered, eyeing the trio of agents with a neutral expression. “We’re ready for you now.”

Keaton wanted to ask who “we” consisted of but didn’t. Sun apparently didn’t know, either, so the reveal would be news to all of them.

“Will Agents Trent and Stafford be joining us?” Sun broached the subject of their absent colleagues with her usual boldness.

“Eventually.” Mullen exited the room without another word.

Exchanging quick glances with both Roman and Sun, Keaton took off after their leader, anxiety high and curiosity reaching the point of agony. The SSA barely paused at the entrance to the BAU offices, entering the room as though he neither knew nor cared if his agents had followed.

The boss is in some kind of trance or something. Almost like he’s in shock.

Sun was right. Alta Fabbri and the Crucifier were mega news. Whatever was happening in that office had to be of colossal importance.

Keaton’s stomach turned as he stepped across the threshold. His gaze shot past the desks and tables to the small group of federal agents gathered at the head of the room. Solemn and still, the assembly brought back memories of Aiden’s funeral, though Keaton recognized very few of the attending individuals.

Meeting ADD Cassidy Ramirez’s gaze, Keaton tried to read her stoic expression. She gave him a nod of acknowledgment before stepping aside to reveal the man standing directly behind her.

A fleeting moment of surreal insanity flooded Keaton’s body as he processed the scene before him. He was dreaming…or had traveled to an alternate universe. Or had he simply lost touch with reality altogether?

Looking back at him, cool blue eyes shadowed in deep half circles, Aiden Parrish lifted a hand in greeting to the newest arrivals. “Agents. It’s a great relief to see you again.”

25

Alta crossed the cabin to the front door, peering through one of the several peepholes her father had insisted on installing. If anyone was approaching, they’d be coming down the dirt road in the front. No one knew about the gravel path that led from the back of the cabin through the woods to a completely different highway.

She’d had that laid very recently, and she’d made sure the man who assisted her in the endeavor ended up six feet under the same day the job was complete.

Loose lips sink ships.

She’d stabbed him in the neck while straddling him in his truck bed, right when he was getting ready to come. The dipshit deserved it as far as she was concerned for ever having the audacity to believe she’d wanted his disgusting naked body anywhere near her own, let alone inside her.

Took one for the team. My team. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again if I have to.

“The power women have over men is ridiculous.” Alta shook her head, scanning the front of the property. “Yet they think we live in their world.”

“What?” Charity’s voice carried from the far end of the room.

Alta turned, glaring at her captive. “Nothing. I was talking to myself. Mind your own business. I thought I told you to use the bathroom and lose the lenses. You look absurd. We’ve got things to do. Places to be. Let’s go.”

Not for a second did she miss the slight wince as Charity took in the statement. Her dead brother’s side rat was trying her best to play up the “let’s be best friends” angle, but Alta could spot a liar from a mile away.

Either way, it worked in her favor to have Charity under the impression that she believed the whole “I hated my mother anyway” bullshit.

Her hostage would continue to kiss her ass and be as compliant as humanly possible while Alta kept her guard up and played nice.

Nice-ish.

The arrangement was easier for everyone. And when it came time to get rid of Charity—whether now or ten years from now—the dumb fake blond would never see her fate coming. She was a picture-perfect candidate for Stockholm syndrome. Mostly because of the baby but also because Charity believed she was smart enough to manipulate and befriend a murderer.

Because that’s what I am. I kill people, dipshit. Anyone, anytime. That will include you someday. You’re disposable. Kevin knew it, and so do I.

“Could you maybe,” Charity’s voice trembled, “hold Marisol while I go? I don’t want to just lay her on the floor. Her car seat’s still in the car.”

Alta could only imagine the amount of courage it had taken for Charity to offer up her infant child to the woman who’d kidnapped them both. The girl was really committing to character.

“Hand her over.” Alta held out her arms, taking Marisol from her mother in one swift motion. “And hurry up. If she spits up on this sweater, you’re both going to die. It’s my favorite, and it’s discontinued.”

Charity scurried away to the bathroom, and Alta glared down at the brown-eyed creature looking right back up at her. Babies had never held any appeal to her, and certainly not one that required so much trouble to acquire as tiny Marisol had.

But you’re all I have left. You and me. We’re going to rebuild the Fabbri empire together. You will be a queen among peasants.

Marisol giggled as if she’d read Alta’s thoughts and approved. A foreign punch of emotion followed, striking Alta right in the gut.

“I refuse to like you,” Alta whispered. “At least not until you understand who you are. And I will never love you. You were Kevin’s property. Now you’re mine. That’s how this works. Keep your giggles to yourself, you bubble-blowing brat.”

As if to prove the point to herself, Alta placed Marisol on the floor. Charity would be upset by the sight, but no matter. The little runt could roll around in the dust for a while. She wasn’t weak and fragile like her mother. Marisol was a Fabbri.

She could handle the floor just fine.

Within seconds, Charity exited the bathroom, her face contorting in horror as expected at the sight of her baby girl on the floor. “I asked you to hold her.”

The accusatory tone in the girl’s voice grated against Alta’s patience. “She’s fine. You can see that with your own two eyes. Get over it. We have bigger things to focus on.”

Charity scooped the baby up like she’d found her in a lava pit and checked her over for cuts and scrapes that weren’t there. Marisol was her Achilles’ heel.

Alta figured Kevin and Michael—especially Michael—had been hers. With both of them dead and gone, she was stronger than ever.

The initial loss had been brutal, of course.

But now? I’m invincible. I have nothing to lose.

Marisol cooed at her over Charity’s shoulder. Alta ignored her.

“Come into the spare room with me so I can keep an eye on you.” Alta led the way toward the only other space in the cabin. “It’s time to pack up the goodies and get going.”

Charity followed her like an obedient dog, and Alta congratulated herself once again on having already gained control of her hostage through nothing more than simple threats.

The spare room, which could’ve been used as a bedroom if needed, was empty except for a small cot in the corner. Someone who didn’t know better wouldn’t see a need for the room at all. No closets, no dressers, no decorative fake plants.

Alta couldn’t help laughing at the confusion on Charity’s face as the girl’s brows knitted together. “You’re getting to learn so much fun stuff today. I’d say you’re pretty damn lucky I plucked you out of the monotonous hellhole of your normal existence.”

Pretending not to notice the twitch of Charity’s lips, as though the girl wanted to say something but knew better, Alta smacked her hand against a knot in one of the wood planks comprising the wall.

A drawer the size of a trunk slid out. Glancing back at Charity, Alta caught another of the girl’s wide-eyed looks. At least her eyes were a normal color again. That electric blue had been grating on Alta’s nerves.

And fake expression or not, this little game was at the very least entertaining.

“Would you like to see what’s inside?” Alta waved Charity forward.

The girl all but tiptoed across the room, peeking over the edge of the drawer like a ball of venomous snakes awaited.

Instead, stacks of money and a pile of shiny black guns sat inside.

Charity immediately took a step back, clutching Marisol even tighter to her chest. “I guess…I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“No shit.” Alta pulled a duffel bag from the back of the drawer and stuffed the cash in first. “At least there aren’t any drugs. I bet your poor innocent soul wouldn’t be able to handle that.”

“I’ve done drugs,” Charity declared entirely too loudly. “I’m not as squeaky clean as you think.”

Alta threw her head back and laughed at the hilarity of the statement. “Honey, you had sex with my brother. Multiple times. You’re as dirty as they come. Trust me. I never mistook you for an angel.”

Charity scowled, fully breaking character and letting her rage shine through. “That’s not funny.”

“Hey.” Alta playfully punched Charity’s shoulder—the one Marisol wasn’t slobbering all over. “We’re friends now. I’m just giving you shit. But on a serious note,” she picked up a small handgun and held it out to Charity, “you’re going to need to get used to looking at this. Holding it. Using it.”

“You trust me with a gun?” Charity made no move to take it.

“Not yet.” Alta shrugged, dropping the weapon into the duffel. “But when it’s time, you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do with it. Prove that loyalty you’re so vocal about all of a sudden.”

Charity swallowed. “Of course I will.”

Alta grinned, enjoying every moment of Charity’s suffering. Soon, she’d have the girl labeled a criminal, too, and then there’d be no faking. Once Charity did something the law found unforgivable, she’d align with Alta of her own free will. And not just for the baby’s sake.

The sound of a car engine snapped Alta from her good mood. She ran to the nearest peephole but didn’t spot anything at first. Yet as her eyes adjusted to the scene, she noted a black SUV parked way back down the dirt lane.

It looked very much like the vehicles federal agents generally drove.

“Dammit.” Alta turned to Charity. “No one can possibly know we’re here. I didn’t tell anyone about this place.”

She racked her brain. No. She hadn’t slipped.

And the lackey who’d made the back path through the woods wasn’t a problem.

He’s definitely dead.

Adrenaline pumped through Alta’s body, igniting the stubborn flame that absolutely refused to give up or give in.

Who the hell would know where we are?

“This is not how it ends for us.” She grabbed Charity by the neck, ignoring Marisol, still in the girl’s arms. “Do you hear me? Your chance came a lot sooner than expected. You’re going to prove your allegiance to me.”

“H-how?” Charity choked out the word, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Alta ripped the baby from her arms, causing Charity to shriek with panic. “Well, we’ve got some unexpected visitors. I’m going to hold little Miss Marisol and put a gun to her head. And you’re going to pull your shit together and shoot whoever the hell gets out of that SUV immediately, or you’ll watch your daughter die. Baby brains spray just like everybody else’s.”

26

Aiden accepted the rage contorting Sun’s features just as readily as he absorbed the happiness flooding Keaton’s. He’d expected a wide array of emotions in response to his return from the grave, and thus far, his prediction had proven correct.

Equally varied were his own internal reactions as agents he respected, worked with, and led came to understand they’d been lied to for weeks.

The sting of betrayal when Cassidy first laid eyes on him had hit him like a gut punch. Her jaw had dropped, and she’d managed only two words. “

You’re alive.”

The associate deputy director had been left out of the small and highly classified group who pulled off Aiden’s “death” and kept it quiet. The theory among those calling the shots was that it would overcomplicate her position to have the burden of truth on her shoulders.

The Bureau needed Cassidy to do her job without distraction.

Aiden had known from day one she’d take the exclusion as a great affront to her career. He hadn’t expected, however, that she’d hold the omission against him personally.

The short welcome-back speech she’d given him after recovering from the initial shock was the follow-up TKO.

“I had to answer to Autumn for your murder. To the woman who loves you, Aiden. She blamed me. She hates me, and once she knows the truth, I don’t think she’ll ever forgive you for this. I know I wouldn’t.”

He hadn’t formulated a proper response—wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to—before the briefing. Now that the meeting was over, the ADD excused herself and made a swift exit from the BAU offices.

If it weren’t for the trio of agents staring at him and waiting for answers, he might’ve followed her. But in this moment, his hands were tied.

“I’ll lead these gentlemen out.” Max Osbourne, the Special Agent in Charge of Richmond’s Violent Crime Task Force, rounded up the remaining agents with a whirl of his finger.

Some of them outranked Max, but the man didn’t care. He cast a wary gaze at Aiden for a quick moment, as though he had plenty to say about his longtime colleague’s faked murder but understood the time wasn’t right to say it.

Aiden glanced at Gil Mullen, whose anger was clear in the constant grinding of his jaw. The SSA had relocated from Utah at the drop of a hat to fill his position, and the man had every right to be upset. To some extent, Mullen had been duped.

Basic human decency dictated a certain amount of empathy toward the SSA. But under no circumstances would Aiden allow his team of BAU agents to be led by Mullen. Surprises came with a career in the Bureau. The fact that the unexpected should always be expected had been one of the most finely explained points of training.

Mullen knew this truth every bit as well as Aiden, Cassidy, and Max did. But without any sort of personal attachment to soften the blow of betrayal, Mullen had no reason to be anything aside from furious.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to some important matters in my office.” Mullen’s words were polite enough, but his tone dripped displeasure.

Aiden waited until Mullen left the room before turning to his agents, prepared to face those who’d looked up to him. Trusted him. “I’m sure you all have questions.” He cleared his throat, unaccustomed to the nervousness flooding his brain. “And I’ll give whatever answers I can.”

Which, I’m sorry to admit, are minimal and evasive and will provide you with almost no level of closure regarding the false narrative you were led to believe.

“Go ahead.” Sun spit the words out like bullets. “Explain why you’re not actually a pile of ashes buried underground.”

Aiden envisioned Autumn, her sparkling emerald eyes dulled by a shadow he could barely stand to witness. The Bureau had installed surveillance around her apartment building—street cams, hallway feeds, a doorbell camera rigged with enhanced audio. All to ensure her safety. All to give him eyes on her from afar.

He hadn’t meant to watch as often as he had. But during those first impossible weeks—when she wandered the halls like a ghost, whispering to the silence, crying behind closed doors—he couldn’t look away.

Hearing her grief, knowing he was the cause of it, had gutted him more than any threat ever could. This plan was meant to bring peace of mind. Instead, it hollowed him out.

Aiden rallied his categorically ice-cold internal agent, shocked by how little of that man was left. “It was determined that Alta Fabbri had placed a target on not only my head but on the entirety of my team and our friends and family. To lure Fabbri into a state of false security that would draw her out into public view once more, classified measures were taken to create the illusion that I’d been removed from the equation.”

“Wait.” Sun stepped toward him with clenched fists. “Please tell me that’s not the speech you intend to give Autumn. Because if you start off with that bullshit, she’ll make you wish you really were dead. I can promise you that.”

Keaton glanced from Aiden to Sun and back again. If they hadn’t been in this professional setting, he imagined, Sun would’ve slapped him across the face.

He understood her anger in full. Despite the wave of joy that had washed over him at the sight of Aiden, another far darker sentiment had followed.

The sheer deception he and his coworkers had been force-fed churned furiously in Keaton’s chest. Worse than his personal pain was the torture he’d witnessed Autumn experience. Aiden’s murder had changed her.

How many nights had Keaton spent comforting Sarah as she lamented her sister’s altered state?

Keaton doubted Aiden would ever understand the absolute hell Autumn had endured for this all-important classified mission. Or the way her misery had deepened the ripple effect of hopelessness their leader’s death had caused the team.

Autumn had certainly suffered the most. The worst. But they’d all agonized right along with her.

On the other hand, Aiden’s never looked so miserable. Almost sick. When’s the last time he slept?

“I’ll have a private conversation with Autumn. I assure you.” Aiden ran a hand through his light-brown hair, the slight tremor in his voice indicating he was far from ready for that confrontation. “But right now, I’d like to focus on the agents in this room. I want you to understand this wasn’t simply a spur-of-the-moment bait and switch to get what we wanted.”

Sun sputtered out a hollow laugh. “You’re right. It was a carefully thought-out magic trick orchestrated by the powers that be to force what they wanted with no concern for those beneath them or the irreversible trauma their plan might cause. Zero.”

“We tried to prevent further trauma from raining down upon all those concerned.” Aiden’s face reddened as he raised his voice, but his familiar bark lacked its famous bite. “A multifaceted 24-7 operation was undertaken not just to draw Alta Fabbri out but to protect you and your families as well. That means your parents, Sun. Your twin brother.”

Keaton raised his eyebrows. The Bureau had kept tabs on all agents involved in the Fabbri case and their families? Keeping all those people under surveillance for the duration of Aiden’s trip to the afterlife was no small task.

Despite the emotional turmoil boiling through his veins, he had to admit the scope of such an operation was impressive. He’d spent a large chunk of time battling the idea that the Bureau hadn’t taken Alta Fabbri seriously enough, when in reality, they’d treated her like a nuclear missile en route.

Sun, having gone temporarily silent, kept her dark eyes locked on Aiden. Keaton wanted to intervene, say something to soothe the tense air surrounding them all, but no words came out.

However, Roman had no such difficulty, perhaps because he hadn’t met the SSA yet. He seized the moment.

Stretching out a giant arm, he offered Aiden a hand and a wide smile. “SSA Parrish. It’s an absolute honor to meet you. I’m Roman Arnett. I transferred from Nebraska to this BAU right after…um, well, when things took an abrupt turn around here.”

The practiced neutrality of the SSA’s expression—Keaton knew it well—did nothing to hide that Roman had taken them all off guard.

“Agent Arnett.” Aiden accepted the greeting, giving Roman’s hand a quick shake. “I’ve heard good things about you. Glad to have you on my team.”

“Thanks for saying so, sir.” Roman continued, not one to let a good bout of silence go to waste. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that, wow, we’re really, really happy that you didn’t actually…you know.” He mimed an explosion with his hands, spreading his fingers wide. “Way cooler that you’re alive.”

For a terrifying second, Keaton thought he might burst into nervous laughter. Maybe Roman was oblivious to the bizarre delivery of his commentary, or possibly the guy understood a little misplaced humor might go a long way to disarm the standoff between Sun and Aiden.

Either way, the distraction worked. Sun instantly snapped back to her usual acerbic self. “You’ll have to excuse Rome.” She waved a hand from Roman to Aiden and back. “We’ve recently confirmed he belongs to an intergalactic alien species and is still learning how to properly engage with humans.”

Aiden opened his mouth but said nothing. Keaton pressed his lips together to hold in the mounting laughter.

“She’s right.” Roman didn’t miss a beat. “I’m a big weirdo.”

“Emphasis on the big.” Sun shot Roman an eye roll.

He shrugged, grinning back at her with his limitless corn-fed Midwest charm. “Sun here calls me the Jolly Green Giant. I don’t think she means it as a compliment, but I say, if the big-ass shoe fits…”

Aiden coughed out a chuckle. Then another. He covered his mouth, appearing to struggle to regain his composure before dropping his hand to reveal a rare smile.

Despite the borderline haggard shadows beneath his eyes and the complete nightmare of the last month, Aiden Parrish had maintained some semblance of humor within his bones.

“It’s so good to be back.” The SSA swallowed visibly, taking in the faces before him. “Even if you’re currently unable to forgive the illusion sold to you concerning my fate, Agents Ming and Holland, I hope you know I consider you not just colleagues. You are my friends.”

Sun’s rock-hard expression softened as her posture slumped. Aiden’s words had stabbed straight to the truth of the matter. The deception was so upsetting because their small team had been far more than a group of coworkers.

Friends. Family, even…of a sort.

Aware he hadn’t yet spoken, Keaton suddenly understood why.

Yes, he had a million questions. Yes, part of him was angry—maybe angrier than he’d ever been.

But Aiden was alive.

Closing the distance between himself and the man he’d so highly revered since their first meeting, Keaton threw his arms around Aiden’s shoulders in a tight hug. “It’s good to have you back. Everything else…it’s all going to be okay.”

27

Autumn squinted at the cabin lurking in view down the dirt lane. “Let’s wait here. If anyone’s actually in the hideout, we don’t want to alert them.

Bree, who’d brought the SUV to a halt, pulled a pair of binoculars from the console. She held them steady, peering at their distant target. “This place looks abandoned. Not a single sign of life. No cars. Nothing.”

Whipping around to face their prisoner, Autumn realized just how fully she’d trusted Schull was telling the truth about the hideout locations. “If you lied to us, you’re going to wish you hadn’t in the very near future.”

He held up his hands as far as the cuffs would allow. “Don’t start doubting me now. Not when you know better. Disbelief does not become you, my dear.”

“Are you serious?” Autumn clenched her fists. “I don’t care what⁠—”

“Cabin door.” Bree nudged her shoulder. “It’s open, and someone’s coming out.”

Autumn swung back toward the windshield, homing in on the person in question. “It’s…oh, my god, it’s Charity. She’s shouting something.” Opening her door as Bree lowered her window, Autumn strained to make out the girl’s words.

“Don’t shoot! It’s me. I’m okay!”

Charity’s expression was frantic. Pained. Her entire body trembled violently, and she had one arm behind her back.

Red flag.

Gears switched to the improbable as Charity revealed her other hand, which held a gun clutched tight and aimed their way.

“Get down!” Autumn dived for the floorboard as three shots rang out, one of them breezing through the still-open side door.

And the other two? Did they find homes in anyone?

More shouts came from the cabin, this time two distinct voices. “You absolute clown!” echoed across the yard, followed by Charity’s pleading apology.

Autumn lifted her head. “Is anybody hit? Bree? You all right?”

“I’m fine.” Bree threw her door open. “Schull?”

“Safe.” His tone was appeasing and obnoxious as ever as he hunched in the back seat.

“Stay down.” Autumn threw him a quick glare before peeking out the windshield. “She’s trying to get back into the cabin.”

Charity beat on the door she’d exited not even a full minute prior, screaming bloody murder. The gun was nowhere to be seen.

Autumn jumped down from the SUV. “She’s unarmed now. Careful approach.”

Within seconds, Bree was at Autumn’s side, gun drawn as they hurried toward the cabin and the hysterical teenage girl pounding on its entrance.

“Charity Atkins. FBI. Hands up!” Bree took the lead, rushing the girl and pulling her arms behind her back.

Autumn closed in with the set of cuffs from her belt and secured them around Charity’s wrists as the girl sobbed and attempted to yank free. Bree stepped away to call in back up, keeping a wary eye on the front door.

“She has my baby!” Charity’s feral brown eyes barely seemed to register their presence. “She has Marisol!”

“Okay, Charity. We need you to calm down so we can focus on your daughter. We won’t let anything happen to her.” Autumn tried the front door, which was indeed locked, and gave it a kick to no avail.

Solid construction. What did I expect from mobsters?

“You don’t understand! She has Mar…” Charity was hyperventilating.

“You shot at us.” Bree clapped her hands to get Charity’s attention. “Why would you shoot at us? We’re here to rescue you. Are you in on this whole scheme?”

Charity doubled over, shrieking, “No! Of course not. Alta made me, told me I had to shoot at you, or she’d kill my baby girl.” She jerked with all the force that a mother protecting her young could manage, considering the steel bracelets.

“Charity.” Autumn placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders and sat her down, instant empathy drowning her other angrier emotions. “We need you to calm down. Take some deep breaths and calm down. Is there another entrance to this building?”

“I got it!” Bree yelled, picking up the gun Charity used to shoot at them.

Eyes growing wide with hope, Charity nodded. “Yes. Around back. There’s a back en⁠—”

An engine roared to life nearby, gravel spraying like a stony waterfall as a dark sedan shot out from behind the cabin and away down an invisible path.

Bree gave chase, rounding the corner of the building much faster than Autumn would have managed.

“There’s no road back there.” Autumn had checked and double-checked the location on GPS.

“There is.” Charity’s tears flowed again. “It’s small and hidden, but that’s how we got here.” Her chest heaved as she struggled to take deep breaths. “She’s leaving with my baby. Alta has my baby! Please let me go! I have to save Marisol.”

“We can’t let you go.” Autumn wasn’t exactly sure what they’d do with the young woman, but releasing her into the wild in her current state was off the table. “You shot at federal agents.”

“But she made me.” Finally stilling, Charity seemed to understand for the first time that she was in trouble. “I never would’ve shot at anyone! And I purposely aimed low.”

Not a single bone in Autumn’s body bought that Charity Atkins had wanted to harm anyone a day in her life, but that wasn’t the point.

Autumn shook her head, attempting to keep her tone less than severe. “I believe you, Charity. But you could’ve hurt someone. You could’ve killed someone. We’ll take you in, make sure you’re safe, and have a chat. You’re not under arrest, okay? We know you acted under extreme duress.”

Bree reappeared, chest heaving. “We can’t go after her. We only have one vehicle. We can’t just throw Charity in the back seat with the Crucifier.”

“She’s too far ahead anyway.” Autumn glanced at their SUV, wondering if that was really true. “Right now, we need to focus on the maniac in the back seat and get Charity calmed down. Did you happen to catch make and model?”

Bree nodded and pulled out her phone. “I’ll request a BOLO on that car.”

Charity’s head jerked from Bree to Autumn. “You’re just going to let her take my innocent child and drive off to God knows where? Are you insane?”

Autumn bit her lip, wishing she had better news for the girl, as Bree called in the BOLO. “Every law enforcement officer in the state will be on the lookout for her now that we know what she’s driving. We can’t catch up to her like this. But I promise you, we will catch her.”

Charity’s fresh shrieks and a few expletives pierced the air. Autumn’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She yanked it out, leaving the inconsolable girl with Bree as SSA Mullen’s name flashed across her screen.

Shit.

Calling Mullen was the next step regardless, and they needed to touch base, no matter how explosive the SSA’s reaction would be to their current predicament.

“Agent Trent here.” Autumn took the call before she had time to build up any more dread over what was coming.

“I apologize for the delay.” Mullen’s gruff voice had an extra biting edge to it. “A matter of ultimate importance came up. Where are you and Agent Stafford?”

Autumn took a deep breath and braced herself before diving into a concise summary of Schull’s takedown on the Bethune farm and the hunt for one of Alta Fabbri’s hideouts.

The instant she stopped talking, Mullen laid into her as expected. “You took direction from a felon…a murdering psychopath…and began a manhunt without my knowledge, let alone my approval? Have you lost your damn minds?”

“We tried multiple times to get ahold of you and couldn’t, so we made a call. Schull was telling the truth. We found Alta.” Autumn hoped the SSA didn’t take her statement as a defense of Schull but only as confirmation that she’d followed her instincts and the action she’d taken had paid off.

Sort of.

“And do you have Alta in custody right now?” Mullen outright shouted this time. “No. No, you do not. You have a crazed lunatic in a cage, a hysterical teenage girl, and no idea where Alta is taking Marisol Atkins. One of you watch your captives while the other clears the cabin. I’m sending agents to your GPS location right now to bring you all in. No one leaves until backup arrives, and you both keep Charity the hell away from Schull. Do you understand?”

Autumn pressed a hand to her forehead. “I understand.”

“Pursuing Alta Fabbri with the Crucifier in tow. Unbelievable.” Though he was no longer shouting, SSA Mullen’s disgust still came through loud and clear. “You were both trained better than that. Or so I thought.”

He ended the conversation before Autumn could respond, and that was fine. In this moment, she didn’t know what to say.

28

Autumn gave Schull’s cuffs a tug, making sure he was still securely attached to the back seat holding bar of the SUV. After she hopped back out of the vehicle, she hesitated.

The cabin was empty. She’d cleared it herself.

Bree sat with a much calmer but visibly distraught Charity on the front doorstep.

While Mullen probably wouldn’t come himself, Autumn was still dreading returning to the BAU to face his wrath.

They hadn’t broken any rules, per se. But the choice to come to the cabin on nothing more than Schull’s word was something the SSA never would’ve approved of. Autumn had known it then just as she did now.

And I still wouldn’t have done anything differently. That’s the honest truth.

“You made the right choice, Agent Trent.” Schull’s reassurance rattled her dwindling patience. “If nothing else, you saved the life of that young woman over there. That’s something to be proud of.”

Autumn wondered what Schull would do if she slapped him across the face. Almost certainly, he’d simply keep smiling.

“You’re only saying that because Charity’s the one person in this equation you weren’t planning on killing. Unless you had to, of course.” Autumn figured the man would be relieved in some way. He’d desperately wanted to end Alta and Marisol, and Charity would’ve at the very least defended and fought for her child.

Her elimination would have come about by necessity. Schull took no pleasure in those murders.

Only the ones God has given the almighty green light on.

“Charity’s not tainted by Fabbri blood. She doesn’t have the same capacity to infuse this world with depravity and wickedness as her daughter.” Schull sighed, leaning back against the headrest. “You understand my mission, Agent Trent. We’ve both dedicated our lives to eliminating evil. If you only knew the hours I’ve spent praying that you would⁠—”

“Enough!” She hadn’t meant to shout. He was starting to get to her.

“Wait. Don’t shut the door.” Schull’s panicked plea was a refreshing switch from his normal unyielding confidence. “We still have time.”

“Save your breath.” Autumn grabbed the door, preparing to slam it shut. Schull had been nothing but a nightmare for her and her team since the second he showed up on their radar. Ridding herself of his presence would bring great and much-needed relief.

Whoever Mullen sent can’t get here fast enough.

“Autumn,” Schull whispered, urgency making his voice hoarse. “Think about it for one moment. I beg of you. I know the location of the other two stash houses. I can lead you to them right now, and you can save that defenseless baby girl.”

Hot rage blazed in Autumn’s chest. “The defenseless baby you planned to kill? I’m sure you’re very worried about her, Wagner.”

First name again. Stop. He is not my acquaintance. He’s a convicted criminal capable of heinous atrocities.

“I’ll make you a deal.” He cocked his head, observing her far too closely for comfort. “I understand what it means to you, keeping that baby alive. She stands for all that is innocent and pure in your mind, and you swore to protect the innocent and pure.”

Autumn narrowed her eyes. “I did.” She glanced toward the cabin, relief flooding her as she saw that Bree and Charity were still deep in conversation and therefore oblivious to her own exchange.

Schull let out a long sigh, his brow furrowing with apparent distress. “You’re wrong. Marisol is an instrument of evil. A veritable ticking time bomb. But I will promise to leave her completely alone, to not harm a hair on her head or even go near her, if you jump in this vehicle right now and let me lead you to Alta.”

In no world did Autumn strike bargains with murderers. The man truly was out of his mind. “If you think I’d throw away my career, my entire life, to hunt down Alta Fabbri with the likes of you under any circumstances, you are wrong. I’d never believe a word you said concerning Marisol, regardless of your proposed deal.”

“You believe me.” Schull’s expression smoothed, hints of a smile twitching the corners of his lips upward. “Because I don’t lie, and you know that about me. I won’t hurt the baby. It’s a mistake to let her live, one the world will pay for in the future, but I’ll make that exception so that you and I can ensure Alta’s destruction.”

“Bullshit just keeps pouring out of your mouth.” Autumn told herself to shut the door and walk away but stayed firmly planted by the SUV, staring Schull down. “I’m not a lonely, delusional prison guard or a money-hungry asshole. It won’t work.”

He nodded as though he’d expected that response. “Right. Okay. I guess you’ve forgotten what it felt like to watch Aiden Parrish go up in flames. The grief and despair and helplessness of such a moment. How many nights have you reached across the broad expanse of your bed only to realize he’s no longer there? Gone. Ripped from you in an unthinkable, unforgivable manner.”

Autumn opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her vision faded to a haze, a tower of flames consuming her memories.

Aiden gazed lovingly into her eyes while he asked her if Wagner Schull was correct. If she’d forgotten him…what happened to him. What happened to both of them. If she was going to let Alta Fabbri get away with destroying the life they should’ve had.

Had their fates been reversed, Autumn didn’t doubt Aiden would stop at nothing to avenge her, no matter what line he crossed.

Miserable guilt filled her chest at the very idea.

“The pain you’re feeling right now is something I understand. That dagger was shoved deep into my soul as well. My entire family, gone in an instant.” Schull leaned as close to her as his restraints allowed. “A person sees the world differently after a loss like ours. It’s unavoidable. And the burning desire to even the scales…to make Alta give the same as she stole…is your God-given right.”

Autumn knew the man meant every word he spoke. She took a tentative step toward the vehicle, peering through the back seat to the driver’s side. The keys dangled from the ignition.

“You know that if she gets away now, we may never have another chance to stop her.” Schull spoke with a softness that perhaps he’d used on his children long ago. “I will not hurt Marisol Atkins. I will only help you end Alta Fabbri. Do you really think you’ll ever be able to sleep at night again if you pass up this chance and she disappears forever?”

I won’t be able to sleep regardless.

Bree and Charity were still engaged in conversation. All Autumn had to do was climb into the driver’s seat and go. No one could stop her. She trusted Wagner’s intel was real. True.

Stop thinking of him as Wagner!

When had the man ever lied to her? Never. Part of his fractured psyche made him unable to lie. If he swore to spare Marisol…

I could save the baby and make Alta pay before the day’s out. Make Alta pay the way she deserves to pay instead of throwing her in a cushy cell with three full meals a day and recess privileges.

“This is fate, Autumn.” Schull’s gentle tone wrapped around her mounting adrenaline like a warm blanket. “You and I are meant to end Alta. How else would you explain us having this opportunity right now? You put me away once, and we’ve still reunited, but this time with the same burning desire.”

How would she do it? Shoot Alta? Beat her to death? Demand the woman grovel and beg for forgiveness before twisting her neck like a twig just to hear that satisfying snap?

And afterward. Whether she fled or ended up in prison, would it truly be worth the vengeance?

Aiden’s gone either way. I end up alone either way.

But in one of those scenarios, she was alone with a marred soul. The soul of a murderer.

“Shit.” Autumn backed away fast, feeling as though she’d ripped herself from a powerful dream. “Killing Alta won’t bring Aiden back. Just like killing every single mobster in the entire world won’t bring back your wife and children. It’s madness, Wagner. I am so sorry for what happened to you, but your mission is wrong, and I won’t be a part of it.”

She studied his face, imagining what he was like before the world broke his sanity with one ruthless strike. A father. A husband. A preacher. A peaceful man with good intentions.

And all that’s left of you is this. It’s a damn shame.

“Autumn.” Schull had lost her. Not that he’d ever truly had her. “This is the only way your team gets the locations. Please don’t close⁠—”

Slamming the door shut, Autumn swallowed the lump in her throat, allowing that she could only cling to two truths in her current reality.

Aiden was gone, and nothing would return him from his grave.

And even if she’d loved Aiden more than any woman had ever loved a man in the history of time, vengeance was meaningless.

Approaching vehicles roared in the distance. Autumn took a deep breath, ready to face what came next.

We’re done here.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. SSA Mullen. She answered swiftly. “Agent Trent.”

“Your backup should be approaching.” Mullen’s tone was curt, but he kept his disgust controlled. “Have Agent Stafford stay with Schull and Charity. You proceed to the perimeter and guide the arrivals in.”

29

Striding down the dirt lane toward the two arriving vehicles, Autumn endeavored to prepare a response for the lecture presumably awaiting her.

Hopefully, Mullen had sent agents from the BAU. Keaton, Sun, and Roman wouldn’t give her any speeches about responsibility. Or at least, not any she couldn’t handle.

But knowing the SSA, he’d likely sent higher-ranking agents who would not hesitate to make the drive back to Richmond a living hell.

For all I know, Mullen came himself, just so he could be the first to tear into us.

“I followed my gut. I did not go alone. I attempted to contact my superior multiple times. We brought Wagner Schull into custody without incident and saved Charity Atkins. And we did actually locate Alta Fabbri…even if we failed to apprehend her.”

Murmuring the statements as she walked, Autumn started to relax a little. The higher-ups might not approve of what they’d done, but they hadn’t broken any rules or crossed any unforgivable boundaries.

She and Bree weren’t naughty children. They were two grown, professional adults. No matter how ugly the upcoming confrontations might get, they’d conduct themselves in a manner worthy of federal agents.

“And I’ll tell them.” Autumn made a firm decision. “It was my call, and Bree only came out of concern for a fellow agent. I’ll take the heat.”

“Special Agent Autumn Trent?” A low, unfamiliar voice broke her concentration.

Autumn halted, taking in the tall, white-haired man who’d exited the first SUV.

Dressed in a suit and tie, he immediately showed his badge. “Deputy Director Stacks. Here to oversee and assist in taking Wagner Schull into custody, as well as ensuring Charity Atkins’s safe transfer to the field office.”

Deputy Director. Wow. This is worse than I expected.

She’d certainly never met the man, but the name Stacks seemed to ring a distant bell. At some point in her work with the FBI, she’d probably heard of him.

“Thank you for coming.” Now Autumn almost did feel like a kid about to get sent to the time-out corner. “I can lead you to⁠—”

“No need.” The deputy director interrupted her with a pleasant smile. “I’ll head down the lane and meet up with Agent Stafford. You’ll need to have a conversation with the waiting agent back there.” He pointed over his shoulder at the second SUV still idling behind them.

Ah. The hand-slapping I knew was coming.

“Okay.” Autumn eyed the vehicle warily, telling herself to stay calm and take it on the chin.

“Excellent.” Stacks walked past her at a quick clip. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The admonition would be the same no matter who was waiting to deliver it, but Autumn hoped with every fiber of her being for someone other than Mullen or Cassidy. Either of them might hit a trip wire of rage she couldn’t control.

She walked toward the vehicle, stopping short when the driver’s side door opened. A man stepped out.

And the world stopped.

Autumn’s knees buckled. Her breath evaporated. Time, sound—everything—collapsed inward like a dying star.

Aiden.

Her Aiden. The man she’d buried. Mourned. Screamed for in the shower. Cursed in her sleep. The man who had taken her heart and died with it clenched in his fists.

Dressed in his customary suit and tie, Aiden Parrish stood in silence, his brows knitted together as though he were enduring unimaginable torture. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again…but only managed one choked word. “Autumn.”

A strangled gasp tore from her throat. Her legs moved without asking permission, carrying her straight into his arms like a bullet loosed from a chamber.

He caught her. Held her. Buried his face in her neck.

Aiden’s life force flowed through her, jolting every inch of her body with the love and adoration he’d always exuded when they touched. Instant alleviation of the impossible grief she’d carried on her shoulders for weeks left her lightheaded. Confused.

His smell, his arms, his very presence—all things she’d worked so hard to forget while simultaneously fearing she’d truly forget them—roared back to life. Aiden trailed kisses down her cheek, across her jawbone, to her lips.

As passion took over, bringing the sweet habit back to life, another heat struck fire through her every cell. Guilt poured from Aiden’s body, echoing his affection with sharp and stabbing proof of his traitorous duplicity.

Autumn shoved him backward—hard—breaking away like she’d been kissing the devil.

“You lied.” Shaking with fury, she lifted a trembling finger, pointing at him and backing away until she’d reached the grass bordering the lane. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision. “You lied to me.”

“I had to.” Aiden took a step toward her and halted, running a hand violently through his hair. “It was the only way to protect you. To keep you alive.”

Shadows encircled his eyes. His cheekbones jutted like those of a starved prisoner. He’d been suffering through his own hell while he was “dead.”

I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.

“Alive?” Autumn choked down the bile rising in her throat. “When you died, I died too. You killed me, Aiden. You destroyed me.” She moved toward him, floating on a cloud of indignant outrage.

“Autumn, I⁠—”

“No.” She shoved him again, full of fury and heartbreak and some twisted cocktail of hope she didn’t know how to kill. “You don’t get to just be back. You don’t get to stand here with that voice, that face, and expect me to what? Thank you for the trauma?”

He flinched like she’d hit him with more than words.

“You were supposed to be my always.” She hated how her voice broke. “Instead, you became my ghost.”

“There was no other way.” A tear traced the hollow frame of his cheek. “You might never forgive me, but⁠—”

“I won’t!” She shoved him again, maddened by the betrayal, the all-encompassing misery. “I will never forgive you for this.”

This time, Aiden took the force in stride, staying firmly planted in place despite her efforts. “You might not believe me, but I am sorry.” He held out a hand, and she smacked it away.

A glint of dying sunlight danced across his wavy hair, reminding her of so many mornings when she’d woken first and simply watched his beautiful sleeping face as the sun rose. The now-familiar punch of pain hit her gut, as though Aiden were still gone and not standing a few inches away from her.

“I. Buried. You.” Her hands clenched, the desire to strike shooting through her veins. “You don’t get to…come back and just…”

But he did. He’s here. He’s alive, and I still love him.

Autumn sank to her knees, overcome by the emotion flooding her insides like a vicious, vengeful tidal wave.

Leaving like he did…returning in the blink of an eye…wasn’t fair. The entire fabrication was a slap in the face of the pure and unadulterated love she’d so freely given him. Entrusted him with.

Like a lamb to slaughter, she’d offered her heart to Aiden in an irreversible way. Whether he was dead or alive, he still possessed it. That was the damned truth.

Dropping to the dirt with her, Aiden grasped her face, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m begging you, Autumn. I’ll never be able to undo the damage I caused you, but I would do it again. I kept you alive, whether you realize it yet or not. Hate me forever, but please, don’t deny you still love me too.”

Autumn envisioned the cemetery. Aiden’s tombstone. She saw herself sobbing over his grave, believing nothing more than ashes remained of the man she’d chosen. Wanted. Loved.

That poor broken woman. She was me…she will always be a part of who I am.

Desperation and bleeding desire emanated from Aiden’s skin. He pulled back just far enough to look straight into her eyes. “I’ll explain everything. Tell you everything. I just need to know you might…consider even…giving me another chance. Every decision I made was for you. And now that I’m back, I don’t want to do this without you. I can’t⁠—”

“Stop.” She held her fingers to his lips. His eyes welled with tears, the tiny crystal droplets turning them into blue diamonds.

An electric current of raw hopelessness hissed through him and into her veins. She didn’t want to hear any more of his entreaties.

His shoulders slumped as his tears flowed freely and he covered his face with his hands.

“You will always be the loss of my life.” Her voice faltered as she spoke the words slowly, surrendering to the truth of what Aiden’s lie had cemented upon her soul. “But that doesn’t change that you’re also the love of my life. It doesn’t change that I belong with you. That I never stopped being yours.”

Dropping his hands, Aiden searched her face as if to assure himself that she truly meant it. He tried to speak but couldn’t. In lieu of words, he pulled her to him, and this time, she let him. Their foreheads met, and the world went quiet.

Just them. A thousand lies between them. And one impossible truth…

He was hers. She was his. The rest faded to nothing.

30

I reviewed the confines of my vehicular holding cell, every second awakening more of the righteous beast within. I didn’t have time for this nonsense.

Why were they focused on taking me into custody at a pivotal time like this? I posed no threat to anyone except the exact same person the Feds were hunting.

They wanted Alta. I wanted Alta. It should’ve been a win-win scenario.

Agent Trent knew this, and the entirety of the Behavioral Analysis Unit did too.

I yanked at my chains in frustration, resting my forehead against the cool steel bars of my prison. “Deep down, you desire her dead every bit as much as I do, Agent Trent.” I closed my eyes, imploring Autumn to hear my cries somewhere deep in her hurting soul. “After what that Mafia scum took from you, no one could blame you for taking your righteous vengeance.”

Goose bumps crept across my body, and I believed with all my heart Autumn was listening.

“Let he without sin cast the first stone!” My skin vibrated with the power and might of the Holy Spirit. “You lost everything just as I did. No need to pretend ending that woman is anything but honorable.”

I’d never been so sure of my purpose. And my connection to Autumn was undeniable. Our bond was forged in the fires of suffering, the flames that would burn hot in our souls long after the world was reduced to ashes.

“Hello!” I banged a cuffed fist against the bars. “Agent Trent! Agent Stafford! Someone answer me.”

Standing at the cabin doorway, Agent Stafford appeared to hear none of my cries as she conversed with a thin, white-haired man in a suit and tie. An older agent, and by the looks of that suit, someone who’d climbed the ladder high throughout his long career.

Great. The cavalry have arrived. More interference to get past.

Bree wouldn’t have paid me any attention regardless. She refused to see me for the man I was. I couldn’t expect the average federal employee to understand the clock ticking behind this matter.

They didn’t have the incredible insight Autumn did, and they didn’t understand the connection we shared. What we could accomplish together.

Autumn was drowning in regret over not going after Alta, but we could still end the Fabbri family once and for all—in a much less by-the-book manner than the law required.

She’d come to her senses. I just needed to speak with her one more time.

I’ve swayed many a mind toward my cause.

Autumn strode past me to converse with Agent Stafford and the white-haired man. She then took Charity’s arm, and the small group walked around the side of the cabin and disappeared.

“Are they taking a tour of the property? And just leaving me out here all alone?” The insult stabbed my gut. “Surely they haven’t forgotten who I am and what I’m capable of. Aren’t they even slightly worried I’ll escape?”

Rude.

Then again, my skill set didn’t involve Houdini breaks from cuffs and cages. I was a people person.

Metal clicks sounded throughout the vehicle as the locks released. A man passed the back seat window, and the driver’s side door opened.

A federal agent entered the SUV. Instantly, I recognized the face. But shock of witnessing a dead man walking caused my brain to take a moment to supply the name.

As Supervisory Special Agent Aiden Parrish locked his cool blue gaze upon me through the rearview mirror, tears welled in my eyes.

“You’re alive.” I tried to clap my hands together, but the cuffs prevented me. “Praise the Lord, you’re alive.”

SSA Parrish pulled the door shut behind him.

Laughter flowed from my mouth like a bubbling brook of joy. “It was a ruse. Some sort of undercover operation. You were never dead. Of course you weren’t. And now we can go forward and end the curse of the Fabbri family forever. I can lead you straight to Alta.”

SSA Parrish turned in his seat to face me, eyebrows raised. Saying nothing, he continued to stare at me.

Tell him what you know.

“Hideouts.” The faster he understood, the better. “This isn’t the only one. Alta has several of them. No doubt she’s holed up in another one right now with that innocent child. And I know where the others are.”

Silence. Was the born-again agent hell-bent on not uttering a sound?

I cleared my throat, determined to break through the stone wall before me. “Agents Trent and Stafford can attest to the truth of what I’m telling you. I led them to this location of my own free will, and we almost had that Fabbri monster. Let me help you make this right, SSA Parrish. Let’s do this together.”

The man leaned closer to my cage, and I noted the pallid cast of his face in the fading daylight streaming through the windows. Whatever he’d been busy doing in the “afterlife” had taken its toll. Mere weeks had passed, but SSA Parrish seemed aged by a decade.

He needed my assistance more than ever. I opened my mouth to tell him so, but he held up a hand.

“No more, Schull.” The SSA’s tone was laced with an ire I found quite off-putting. “It’s clear you’re still every bit as delusional as the last time I saw you.”

“Delusional?” The word hit me like a cheap punch. “With all due respect, I thought you were a more discerning man. Able to think outside the limited box of this desperately flawed world.”

SSA Parrish smiled, shadows casting him into some sort of cheery federal ghoul. “I’ve discerned, as has everyone else familiar with your case, that you, Wagner Schull, are a psychopath. In addition, I can assure you the federal government will never enlist the services of the Crucifier.”

“I never called myself that.” I shook my head violently, and my chains clinked together. “It’s just a silly nickname made up by a misled society full of moronic ingrates.”

“Not misled.” The agent’s jaw flexed. “You nailed multiple human beings to actual crosses. You earned yourself that moniker. And you plan to murder Alta Fabbri. Not bring her to justice. Murder her. Crucify her, if you can pull it off, I’m sure.”

“Well, I⁠—”

SSA Parrish slammed a hand against the bars, jolting me to my core. “You want to kill a one-year-old. A baby. Because you’re a sick man, Schull. You’re ill.” His lip curled up like he was a rabid wolf showing his teeth. “You will never ‘end the Fabbris.’ You won’t lay one finger on Alta or Marisol. And you certainly won’t be speaking to Agent Trent again.”

Too far, Parrish.

He didn’t even deserve to be informed of the offer I’d made to leave Marisol unharmed. Not with his current attitude.

“Autumn and I have been brought together by powers beyond your comprehension.” My words emitted as a seething hiss. “God orchestrated what is unfolding now. You can’t keep me from her. She and I are destined to complete this mission hand in hand.”

“No.” SSA Parrish reared back and made the decree as though he were above the Lord God Almighty. “The only thing you’re destined for is life behind bars.”

I swallowed a gulp of rage.

I can still turn this conversation around. Stay calm.

But I was unable to do so, instead pressing my face against the bars until my skull ached. “I’ve been called by an authority who doesn’t answer to you or the Bureau or the government or anyone else. I will not give up regardless of what cage you stick me in.”

“I’m aware.” SSA Parrish relaxed his posture and managed an almost pleasant expression once again. “I’ve seen your type before. Looked the devil incarnate right in the eyes. You’re nothing special, nothing new. And you’re beyond help. There’s a special place for criminals like you. A hell for the living where escape is impossible. And that’s where you’re headed now. My associate will be with you shortly.”

A foreign sensation stabbed my chest.

Panic.

No. I cannot lose it now. Re-center. Refocus. I am invaluable to these people.

“Are you forgetting I have the safe house locations?” All the man required was a gentle reminder. “I’m the key to finding Alta Fabbri, whether she dies or not. I have the addresses you need.”

SSA Parrish slid a hand into his suit jacket, pulled out a small piece of paper, and read straight from it. After several long seconds, he turned it around to show me. “Ring any bells?”

He had them. The godless son of a bitch already had the locations. The exact locations.

My mouth went dry, my tongue nothing more than a sheet of sandpaper. The only bargaining chip I’d had was gone.

Say something. Speak now. Speak well.

Words failed me. As though the Lord had stricken my voice from my body.

“We don’t need you, Schull.” Aiden slipped the paper back into his pocket. “No one needs a man like you. Do you understand me? No one. In fact, I imagine your god considers you quite the abomination.”

Before I could respond, he turned his back to me, flung open the SUV door, and exited just as swiftly as he’d entered.

I sank back against the seat cushion, barely registering the slam of the door as SSA Parrish left me and my mission behind.

Locks clicked into place, the finality of the metallic sound sending shivers of despair down my spine as I was left alone in my cage.

“My God…” I choked out a whisper. “My God, why have you forsaken me?”

31

Aiden stood outside the SUV, indifferent, as Wagner Schull came apart at the seams in his temporary cage. The man yanked at his cuffs until his wrists bled, sobs shifting to shrieks of fury as the true monster living within the Crucifier revealed himself. “You’ll pay, SSA Parrish. You’ll burn in the fiery pits of hell for this! There is no forgiveness for the damned!”

Images of the bloodied, sunken bodies Schull had nailed to his handmade crosses crawled through Aiden’s mind, turning his stomach, as such memories always did.

“I hope it’s true,” he murmured while Schull ranted, foaming at the mouth. “I hope there’s no forgiveness for the damned. And it’s okay if I’m in that category…as long as you are, too, you sadistic son of a bitch.”

As far as Aiden was concerned, the BAU had wiped its hands clean of the Crucifier. Schull would be transported to a pit not unlike the one Justin Black was rotting away in.

Some humans were beyond saving. Aiden had accepted that fact long ago.

But as the preceding hours had proven, some depraved and broken individuals still held shocking glimmers of light deep within their blackened, bitter hearts.

The moment news of Alta’s activity at the Atkins’ safe house had dropped that morning, he’d been on the road.

With an infant and a teenage girl in Alta’s hands, they’d needed new measures regarding the Fabbris and their spiderweb of chaos. Measures not everyone on the secret task force agreed with. Nonetheless, Aiden had taken them. He’d made the two-hour drive to the Waverly prison in ninety minutes flat. A few flashes of his badge and a lot of walking had put him in front of the solitary prison cell occupied by Maury Fabbri…

“Looking a little rough around the edges, SSA Parrish.” Maury’s gravelly rumble of a voice had carried weakly across the cell.

Aiden had noted the former Mafia boss’s exceptionally frail figure hunched on the prison mattress. “I could say the same for you.” He’d expected Maury to make his usual defiant parade to the bars, but the old man had stayed seated. “This may not be the Ritz-Carlton, but last time I checked, you were being fed.”

Maury grinned, his emaciated face stretching thin with the movement. “Doesn’t matter what they feed you if you’re dying.”

Certainly, Aiden had been busy since his “death” a month back, but he was surprised he’d missed word of Maury Fabbri going under. “Dying?”

“Guess no one told you, huh?” Maury chuckled, sputtering out a few coughs. “Don’t take it to heart, Parrish. Just found out a couple of days back. Lung cancer. Stage There’s No Going Back Now. Or so I’m told.”

Aiden digested the information, experiencing neither joy nor sadness. “No treatments?”

“Don’t want any,” Maury growled, his smile disappearing. “Live longer so I can stare at this godforsaken cage all day every day? No thank you. I’ll take my card and punch out now, if it’s all the same to you people.”

“Fair enough.” Aiden crossed his arms, wondering how Maury’s recent health crisis would affect the forthcoming conversation. “But before you go, you’re going to help me with something.”

Maury raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that.”

Wrong answer.

Aiden needed information only Maury had, and he wasn’t leaving the prison without it. Even if he was forced to lose a bit of his federal agent soul, a few morals, and a pound or two of decency behind these walls, when he walked out of the Waverly prison, Aiden would be taking Maury’s private intelligence with him.

“You have no options.” Aiden sighed, exhaustion seeping to the core of his bones. “We’re out of time. You’re going to tell me what I need to know.”

“You going to beat the deets out of a man on his deathbed?” Maury shook his head, more coughs erupting from his brittle lungs. “That’s low, even for you. And you’re wrong anyway. Your dumb ass has plenty of time. Me? Not so much. The clock’s ticking for these old bones.”

The Fabbris had killed and orchestrated the killing of so many individuals—some innocent, some not—that Aiden found it hard to view Maury’s plight as anything other than poetic justice. The man was a monster. He deserved everything that came his way, and his obstinate attitude only reminded Aiden of just how much evil the Fabbri empire had unleashed upon the world.

But Maury had a weakness that made him just as human as any random civilian on the street.

His family.

“The clock is also ticking for a one-year-old girl by the name of Marisol Atkins.” Aiden ground his teeth together at the mere thought. “Your granddaughter is in imminent danger.”

Maury’s features tensed, creasing his face with lines of worry and sickness. “Alta found her.” He attempted to stand but stumbled and instead settled back on the bed. “Did my daughter find that child?”

Aiden clapped his hands together. “She did. Although I’ll bet you never doubted that she would.” He grabbed a bar, leaning down slightly to match Maury’s eye level. “She killed a federal agent on duty and Marisol’s grandmother. Took Marisol and her mother hostage. I don’t think I have to remind you how unhinged your daughter has become.”

Maury swallowed hard, his eyes clouding with an emotion Aiden hadn’t been sure the man could feel.

Fear.

“You have to find them.” Maury held up a finger. “You go and you find them. She’s going to kill that baby. Alta isn’t in her right mind. I warned the redhead agent about this very thing. She must not have taken me seriously.”

Autumn.

The constant aching drum in Aiden’s chest had pounded louder. All the Bureau had to do was take Alta Fabbri into custody, and Aiden could be with the woman he loved again. That had been assuming she’d forgive him.

Even now, he still didn’t know if she truly forgave him.

“She took you very seriously. We’ve been trying to locate Alta.” Aiden hadn’t been about to share the details of their underground mission with Maury. “But it seems your daughter has many a hideout to run to. Like any good mobster, I’m sure you saw to it that your family had a way to disappear when necessary. Rabbit holes to slip into. And you’re going to give me the location of those holes now.”

Maury’s lip had curled defiantly. “Am I?”

“You are.” Aiden hadn’t backed down. “One way or another.”

Only a moment of silence followed before Maury crumpled into himself like a deflating balloon. “No point in fighting you off anymore, is there? I’ll hate you until the day I die, Parrish, and haunt you from the grave if I’m able. But right now, I’m going to give you a gift.”

Aiden waited, refusing to give any physical response to the bait.

“I’m going to give you the chance to atone for letting my sons die.” Maury spat the sentence out, glaring venomously across the cell. “You keep Marisol off a cross, and maybe you won’t end up burning in hell for failing to protect Michael and Kevin.”

The reminder was unnecessary. Aiden often thought of the two young men, nailed up like nightmarish biblical fodder. Their gruesome murders weighed on his mind every single day.

He hadn’t killed them, but he certainly hadn’t protected them as promised. Even saving Marisol Atkins from Alta wouldn’t change that cruel fact.

Aiden pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket. “Tell me what I need to know.”

With astonishing ease, Maury rattled off three precise addresses, describing the locations as cabin hideouts. The dying man was certain his daughter would make use of at least one of them, if not all three. She had money and weapons to collect on top of needing to lay low.

“But that’s not her final destination.” Maury ran a hand through his thinned hair, pale as a ghost and destined to be one sooner rather than later. “Alta will flee the country as soon as she possibly can, with the baby or without. She’ll use one of two exit routes that’ve existed since I was just a twinkle in my father’s eye. We call them By Air and By Sea.”

Aiden had surmised as much when considering Alta’s possible options of escape. “Give me the information, and I’ll do everything in my power to ensure Marisol stays alive and well on U.S. soil. You have my word.”

Aware his word had meant nothing to Maury since the Crucifier murdered two of the mob boss’s children, Aiden struggled to contain his shock when Maury nodded and offered a simple, calm response. “I trust you will.”

Maury described a boathouse and a hangar—both on the Virginia coastline—giving exact addresses as well as the tip that both exit routes would likely be under the watch of armed guards, regardless of which Alta chose to use.

“That’s it.” Maury closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s how you’ll find her. But I know my daughter. Whatever her plans are for Marisol, Alta will die before she gives her up.”

Aiden had enough Fabbri siblings’ deaths hanging on his conscience. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He pocketed the notebook of information

“Actually, there’s one more thing.” Maury forced himself to a standing position, hobbling slowly across the cell until he was close enough to grab the bars for support. His breathing, raspy and labored, acted as an unnecessary yet constant harbinger of death.

“What’s that?” Aiden’s insides shuddered at the close-up view of the man’s decaying, ghoulish face. Blue veins glared against yellowed, sagging skin.

He’d despised Maury for years, but what stood before him now was far from the powerful Mafia boss who had garnered such spite.

This man was decrepit. Pathetic. Sad.

“I know it still bothers you.” Maury looked at him, into him, through him. “You killed that Trombino bastard who butchered my wife. My people. You pulled the trigger when you didn’t have to. You wiped Johnny T. from the face of the planet instead of taking him in and throwing him in a cage. It haunts you.”

Aiden could still feel the disgust coursing through his body when he made that fateful decision. Staring at the man who’d left a pile of human tongues on the Fabbris’ marble floor, Aiden had made the one mistake he could never fix. Never take back. “We’re not discussing this, Maury.”

The old man tightened his grip on the cell bars. “We are. Because you think it makes you a bad man. But ending that horrible piece of shit, right or wrong, saved a whole hell of a lot of lives. I guarantee that. And isn’t that what you wanted to do? Badge aside, you chose the path you did so you could save people. Killing him…was not a mistake.”

Part of Aiden agreed with Maury, though he refused to tell him so even now. But a much larger part of him worried it made him no better than Wagner Schull. Aiden didn’t get to decide who lived and who died. No one got to make that decision.

“I wish I could see it that way.” Aiden wondered what it would be like once Maury was dead, and he was the only remaining person on Earth who knew he hadn’t had to pull the trigger that day.

A relief in many ways…but also…lonely, maybe. No one else would ever know the truth.

“You can’t, and you won’t.” Maury shrugged his bony, slumping shoulders. “Because you’re a good man. The pure of heart can’t see justice for what it is. Only incurable assholes like me truly understand that some people don’t deserve to live. If you could see it properly…you’d be just another lost cause.”

Discerning the truth behind Maury’s words, Aiden still doubted he’d ever forgive himself for the decision he’d made sixteen years ago. But possibly, he could atone for his failures, as Maury suggested.

He’d carried this secret for too long now. It was time to either turn himself in or let it die with Maury.

“I’ll find Marisol. I will keep her safe.” Aiden hesitated as Maury’s ragged breathing grew louder. “And I’m sorry. About Michael and Kevin. I won’t fail again.”

“Like I said before,” something hinting at a genuine smile stretched across Maury’s face, “I trust you won’t.”

But it wasn’t enough just to save Maury’s granddaughter. Aiden had promised to protect the Fabbri siblings. All three of them. “I’ll also do what I can to help Alta. She’s young. There’s still hope for her.”

Maury’s eyes welled with tears. “She was just a baby girl, too, once. Sweetest little thing. Whatever she’s become, it’s my fault. I ruined her. I ruined everything.”

In that moment, Aiden believed, he was meeting the real Maury Fabbri. The man beneath the devil. The father. The family man.

“You’re trying to do something good before you die. Something right.” Aiden had considered giving Maury’s shriveled hand a quick tap but then had refrained, shocked by the emotion rising in his chest. “It counts for something, Maury. It has to count for something.”

A moan had escaped the man. He’d turned away from Aiden, beginning the slow hobble back to his bed. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’ll find out soon enough, SSA Parrish.”

Aiden had digested the comment, steeled himself, and walked to the door. He’d knocked, straightening his tie as he waited for the guard to release him, and left Maury’s prison cell for the last time.

He’d refused to look back.

32

Autumn had little desire to hear another detail about Wagner Schull ever again, which had worked in her favor when Deputy Director Stacks declared he’d be escorting the man to an undisclosed location.

After a brief and awkward reunion with Bree—with no privacy, no time for actual conversation or genuine emotion—Aiden had informed them that he’d be driving Charity back to the field office, where she’d be safe until they found her daughter and apprehended Alta.

He also instructed Autumn and Bree to return for a mandatory meeting at eight. Autumn wondered if Aiden was purposely giving her a chance to decompress from the shock.

But at Bree’s soft “Do you want to talk about it?” as they left the Fabbri cabin, Autumn immediately shook her head, and the drive back to Richmond was mostly silent.

At the BAU office, Autumn and Bree were met with expectant, nervous looks from Sun, Keaton, and Roman.

Creeping toward Autumn like she couldn’t count out actual physical violence, Sun whirled a finger in the air from a safe distance. “We only found out a couple of hours ago, and Aiden insisted he be the one to break the news. But we all wanted to tell you. I promise you that.”

“We did.” Keaton rushed up behind Sun, his brows stitched together in agony so pure, it tugged at Autumn’s heart. “I was so afraid I’d text you, I locked my phone in my desk drawer.”

“I believe you.” Autumn mustered a small grin at the idea as she slid her gaze to Roman, who seemed the most relaxed out of everyone. He hadn’t known Aiden and, in all honesty, was still solidifying his relationships with the rest of the team.

Roman blushed, shrugging and offering a weak smile. “I just do what I’m told around here.”

Fair enough.

“If it makes you feel any better, I almost killed him for you when I realized he was alive.” Sun didn’t so much as crack a smile, and Autumn had no doubt her fiery colleague meant every word.

Autumn took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she re-centered. “Well, now that we’re all in the loop, I’ll just say I’m really not ready to have any in-depth conversations about it.” She bit her lip as a fresh wave of bittersweet emotions rose in her chest. “I’m just as shocked as the rest of you, but I need to process this on my own. Can we, for now…just let it be what it is?”

“If by that you mean just be happy the team’s back together,” Keaton’s upbeat tone might have been forced, but it hit Autumn’s ears like music, “then I think we can manage that.”

“Agreed.” Sun stepped forward, pulling Autumn into a quick hug and releasing her as though it never happened. “Just had to do that. I’m done now.”

Remembering a time not so long ago when a hug from Sun was rarer than a unicorn, Autumn couldn’t help smiling at the affectionate offering. Of course, a plethora of mixed sentiment remained for all of them to sort through. Not for a moment did Autumn believe she was the only one who’d experienced simultaneous rage and joy at Aiden’s sudden reappearance.

But the underlying feeling of life having taken a definite turn toward the bright side was also undeniable.

Aiden was alive. Their leader had returned.

“Wait.” Autumn finally realized the problem with that fact. “Where’s Mullen?”

Sun jabbed a thumb toward the SSA’s private office. “After Mullen informed us all where you and Bree were and what was going on out there, Aiden took charge. Mullen went straight back to his office and hasn’t come out since.”

Keaton stepped closer to Autumn, keeping his voice low. “He’s kind of been making a racket in there. Sounds like he’s throwing every conceivable item he can reach at the walls.”

The situation was a far cry from what Autumn had expected from the SSA upon their return. She’d braced herself for Mullen to tear into them about their grave misstep with the Schull and Fabbri cases.

As it turned out, he had his own problems to sort through.

“Is he still on the case with us? How does that work?” Autumn couldn’t help sympathizing. She had never come to like the man, but he’d been blindsided too.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aiden’s familiar calm and collected voice sounded behind her. “It’s been decided already. I’ll handle it.” He placed a hand on Autumn’s lower back as the entire team stood frozen in place, watching the pair interact for the first time since the SSA’s resurrection.

Autumn wondered how long it would take before Aiden’s touch—and the rush of warmth and devotion that came with it—would cease to shock her to her core.

Aiden headed for the front of the room as though he’d never missed a day. “Let’s get this meeting started. We’re going to make it as quick and painless as possible because, to put it plain, we’ve got places to be.”

As though he’d been summoned, Mullen exited the private office. He didn’t join the agents but also didn’t attempt to take the lead alongside Aiden. Instead, he stood awkwardly off to the side, as though he no longer knew his place in the BAU.

“Listen up.” Aiden’s ability to command the room after being dead for a month was downright impressive, if not mildly disturbing. “I know I owe you all a massive explanation. I’m not allowed to share much about the operation past general details, but I’ll do what I can to answer your questions. However, we have to put that on hold for the moment.”

As much as Autumn planned to grill Aiden about his absence, she agreed the shocking development was not currently the most important item on their plate.

Alta still has Marisol.

“This is the full update on where things sit concerning Alta Fabbri.” Aiden clasped his hands. “Agents Holland and Arnett were able to catch Agent Gerald Brady and ascertain that he was, indeed, responsible for the leak of information on the safe house. He claimed to have no knowledge of Alta’s plans beyond the safe house takedown. But instead of cooperating and being taken into custody, Brady attempted to open fire and was taken down by Agent Holland.”

Autumn’s eyes widened at Keaton. He kept his neutral gaze fixed steadily on Aiden, but she could see he was struggling with having taken a human life.

Another matter they’d discuss later.

Sun crossed her arms. “Not sure I believe Brady’s claims. He was in direct contact with Alta. We’re supposed to believe he was clueless about what she was plotting?”

“It’s really not a point worth arguing.” Aiden made the matter-of-fact statement with a wave of his hand. “Brady’s dead. He’s of no use to us now.”

“Aiden’s right.” Keaton somehow managed to speak with his usual polite kid-next-door tone. “While Brady could’ve been lying…I mean, none of us are forgetting he just betrayed his entire country for the promise of a generous payday…Alta had no reason to confide in him any further.”

Roman gave a vigorous nod. “Plus, she didn’t pay Brady an actual dime, which means she neither respected nor trusted him. He was just a tool that served its purpose.”

“Correct.” Aiden moved the briefing along with a fluidity that Autumn had desperately missed. “Also useless to us is Wagner Schull. He claims to have key information necessary to track Alta down, but I’ve informed him his services are not needed.”

Aiden stepped toward the double-sided whiteboard and flipped it. The reverse showed a large map of Virginia with five red dots, including two larger ones along the coastline.

“I managed to obtain the intelligence needed to locate the Fabbri hideouts through other means.” He ran a finger over the three smaller dots. “That’s another story for after the case. But for now, just know that federal agents are currently stripping and searching all the cabin stash houses.”

“Schull was telling the truth. He could’ve taken us straight there.” Autumn hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but she couldn’t take them back.

Aiden studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Yes. He was. We all know psychopathic individuals can be more than happy to help LEOs on occasion when it suits their personal goals. Luckily, in this case, we no longer have to resort to bringing along a murderer with his sick sights set on our perpetrator and hostage. Schull’s headed for the type of cell where escape isn’t an option.”

So they truly were done with the Crucifier. He really was going to disappear into a Justin-Black-worthy hole, and they could wipe their hands clean of the man for good. Relief trickled through Autumn’s veins at the realization she’d never have to play Wagner Schull’s games again.

“Now, let’s focus on these two locations on the coast.” Aiden redirected their attention to the map. “According to my intel, these two places matter most. They’re the Fabbri exit routes, nicknamed By Air and By Sea. A hangar and a boathouse maintained for decades as the means for fleeing the United States when necessary.”

Itching to find out just how Aiden had dug up such specific information, Autumn reminded herself they’d have plenty of time for explanatory conversations in the future. Aiden was alive.

Surprising them all, Aiden gestured toward Mullen, giving the man the floor. “Supervisory Special Agent Mullen will now lay out the plan for our approach.”

Autumn turned in unison with the rest of the team, waiting for Mullen to say his first words since he’d joined the briefing. She wondered if he’d begin with a casual Eff you all.

Mullen’s mustache twitched. He squared his shoulders. “The BAU will be splitting into two teams, one led by Supervisory Special Agent Parrish and the other by me. Both teams will be accompanied by SWAT members who are gathered and waiting as we speak. Agents Ming and Arnett, you’re with me. Trent and Stafford, you go with SSA Parrish. Holland will stay at home base. He’s restricted to desk duty until today’s incident has cleared inspection.”

“The two locations are separated by roughly twenty miles.” Aiden seamlessly retook the lead. “Following this briefing, you’ll gear up and split as assigned. Alta is most likely to make her escape attempt under the cover of night. The trajectory of Marisol Atkins’s life, assuming she’s still alive, hangs in the balance.”

“Get busy, Agents.” Mullen’s gruff command assured them all that he was, in whatever capacity, still also in charge…for now. “We leave in ten.”

Autumn exchanged a glance with Sun, whose tight-set lips told the world exactly where she stood on the team split. How the groups had been decided was anyone’s guess, but Autumn didn’t blame Sun for her displeasure at ending up with Mullen.

Especially now that their original boss was back.

Before Autumn could give Sun any reassurance, Aiden tugged at her sleeve. “Hey. You okay?”

Autumn raised her eyebrows. “We haven’t even left the field office yet. I’m good.”

“I meant with everything.” Aiden studied her closely, almost like he was analyzing every twitch of her face. “This day has been…a lot. And it’s not even over yet. And you looked deep in thought during the meeting too.”

“I have a lot to think about.” One nagging notion had been ping-ponging through her brain. But given how long it’d been since she’d shared anything with Aiden, Autumn considered keeping her worries to herself.

But what kind of precedent does that set for our future? We promise to never keep anything from each other ever again and then I lie by omission on day one?

“What’s wrong?” Aiden stepped to the side, leading her away from the others. “We have to hurry, but tell me what’s eating at you.”

Autumn made her decision, and the words poured out like a dam had burst inside. “All this time, I blamed Alta for killing you. I hated her, Aiden. Wanted her to pay. Wanted her dead.” She pressed her hand to her stomach, sickened by what came next. “In the Nightmare Forest, Athaliah told me that once I lost everything, I’d become something dark. Something awful. And she was right.”

Aiden frowned, shaking his head. “How do you figure that?”

“Did you not just hear me? I wanted Alta to die. At times, I wanted to kill her myself. That’s not okay. Not right. It’s…dark. And it’s in me, just like Athaliah said.” Autumn bit her lip, knowing the clock was ticking away.

They didn’t have time for this, yet she needed to get it out.

“Wishing for vengeance isn’t the same as taking it.” Aiden grabbed her hand, warmth and confidence flowing from his touch. “You’d thought she murdered me. You had every right to be angry. You’re human, Autumn. What matters is that you never acted on that hatred. That’s all that matters, actually.”

Autumn lowered her voice to a near whisper. “That’s only because I never had the chance.”

“You did.” Aiden squeezed her palm. “Schull was ready to take you to her, and you knew he was telling the truth. You had the chance to break away from the team and make Alta pay. Hurt her. Kill her. But you did the right thing instead. You turned Schull down. Refused to take that dark path.”

It was true. Even at the height of her hate, she hadn’t been able to conjure a reality where she allowed the Crucifier to lead her to Alta Fabbri. Hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of teaming up with pure evil even if it meant ending Alta’s own brand of devilry and avenging Aiden’s murder.

One truth had held strong regardless of how much she’d desired vengeance.

Autumn Trent was not a killer.

Aiden leaned in until his lips nearly touched her ear. “Athaliah was wrong. About you. About all of us. People full of darkness try to infuse it into others, but Athaliah failed. We stopped her. We stopped Schull. And we’re going to stop Alta Fabbri. Together.”

33

Winter brought her car to a stop in front of The Lyft, unsure of what to say. Jewel had barely spoken two words since Winter returned to the vehicle and spewed a bunch of BS about misunderstanding her vision because she’d found nothing inside the abandoned business.

I lied just like you asked me to, Aiden. Thanks. Now I’m no better than you.

Possibly, Jewel didn’t believe Winter’s brief explanation. Everyone in the freaky-superpowers club seemed to have abnormally sharp intuition.

But who could blame the doctor if she went mute for the rest of her life after a day like this?

Not only had Jewel learned new things about herself and her ability, Winter had also shared her personal phenomenon with someone she barely knew.

“Listen. Today was a lot.” Winter wasn’t familiar enough with the woman to hug her and wished Autumn were there.

“It’s good, though, I think.” Jewel nodded, staring out the windshield at nothing. “To figure out what this thing is. I need to understand it if I have to live with it for the rest of my life.”

Winter approved of the upbeat outlook. “Exactly. The more you understand, the less scary it is. So just take it one day at a time. You can call me if you ever need to talk to another freak show. Seriously.”

Jewel offered Winter a warm smile. “Thank you. I might take you up on that.” She opened the passenger door but didn’t step out. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help at the cemetery. Maybe someday I’ll learn how to make the dead talk on command. Anyway, you’ll call me if you get any update about SSA Parrish’s murder? I realize I’m not directly involved, but it’d be nice to have some closure.”

“You got it.” Winter could at least do that much, considering she’d dragged Jewel to a field of wailing dead spirits at the drop of a hat. And considering Aiden wasn’t in that grave and now Jewel was doubting the accuracy of her abilities.

“Okay. Good.” Jewel stepped out, threw her purse over her shoulder, and took a step onto the sidewalk before stopping and whipping back around. “Winter?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do with it?” Jewel seemed dazed, her expression blank. “What do I do with all the victims’ voices?” She tilted her head. “What would you do?”

Winter considered Jewel’s particular gift-curse. Or maybe curse-gift. She offered her a half smile. “I guess I’d start to listen to them. Help them if I could. If it’s possible.”

Jewel nodded. Without another word, she gave Winter a small wave, turned, and proceeded toward her car.

The morgue was the most ironic place someone like her could ever possibly work.

Yet maybe that was fate.

“I wasn’t gonna pull the trigger. Shoulda told that bitch about the pizza place. Let her take him out for real.”

Without an update from a member of the BAU, Winter couldn’t figure out the entire situation. But Agent Brady, the FBI’s safe house errand boy, obviously knew about the underground operation involving Aiden’s faked death—as well as the secret headquarters.

Winter let out a sigh, considering a good stiff drink when she got back to Autumn’s apartment. So much absurdity. So much heaviness. She refused to leave Richmond without knowing both Wagner Schull and Alta Fabbri had been apprehended and Autumn was safe, but she ached to fly home to Texas and Noah.

“Wait until I tell you about all this.” Winter imagined Noah’s green eyes widening with shock. He’d be overjoyed that Aiden was alive.

Deep down, she was too.

I just need time to process.

Really, she should’ve called Aiden’s bluff at the cemetery. Jewel hadn’t heard anything from his grave because he’d never been there. Given the doctor was swarmed by voices, Winter should’ve picked up on that.

Not to mention the red glow doesn’t lie. Part of her had known Aiden’s death was not as it seemed.

The terrible pain they’d all been carrying would lift slowly, perhaps, but the suffering, the rampant mourning of Aiden Parrish, was over.

They hadn’t lost him after all.

Resting her head against the steering wheel, Winter began to cry.

34

Sun tugged at her seat belt, testing its strength as her team barreled down the highway toward the Fabbri boathouse with Mullen behind the wheel. She understood the urgency and the lead foot the SSA had employed.

But maybe I should’ve let Rome have the front seat.

SWAT followed right on their heels, emphasizing that no one was playing around. Darkness had already fallen. If Alta planned to make a break for it tonight, she could do so at any moment.

The silent atmosphere filling the SUV grew more unsettling with each passing minute. Sun figured Mullen was either mentally gearing up for the raid and going into game mode, or he was still seething about having been left out of the loop concerning Aiden’s fake death and the operation surrounding it.

Probably both.

A question nagged at Sun, irritating her to her core, and considering Mullen might be leaving soon, she ventured to engage the man. “When you got that call at the hotel and we had to leave immediately,” she kept her gaze straight ahead, “you knew Aiden was back, correct? The look on your face…why didn’t you tell me? You had no reason in hell not to clue me in as soon as you knew.”

Mullen spoke in a monotone gravel betraying his exhaustion. “I was ordered not to. I did as I was told until safe to do otherwise. For all your sakes. I’d never risk compromising the well-being of anyone on my team. Not you. Not Agent Arnett or any of the others.”

The man had just admitted he was actually protective of the BAU. That he cared.

I might have an actual stroke.

“I, for one, appreciate it.” Roman joined the conversation as though he’d received a personal invite. “You were just doing your job, Boss.”

Sun could’ve kicked Roman for using the B word, considering the current state of affairs regarding the BAU leadership. But a glimpse of his happy-go-lucky smile in the rearview mirror made it impossible for her to stay annoyed with the big dumb teddy bear.

He was too likable for his own good.

“Soon to be not the boss.” Mullen enunciated each word clearly, as though he couldn’t take any chance of being misunderstood. “With SSA Parrish’s return, it appears I’ll be jumping states again. Richmond has no need for two supervisory special agents.”

A pang of actual sympathy stabbed Sun’s chest. Gil Mullen was an asshole, no two ways about it, but he’d also been massively blindsided on his career path. As far as the powers that be were concerned, he’d been nothing more than an interim SSA.

Finding out had to sting like a bitch.

Roman leaned forward from the back seat and gave Mullen a clap on the shoulder. “I remember thinking I’d be in Nebraska for the entirety of my career and liking the idea. Things change. And the Bureau is big. You’ll find your place.”

He’d quite possibly said the sweetest thing anyone could to a man like Gil Mullen.

Maybe the Nebraskan giant was just what this team needed. But I’ll tell him that over my own dead body.

Roman settled back into his seat, noisily pulling some black licorice from a plastic wrapper and chewing on the stick right in front of God and everyone else as though it wasn’t the most disgusting food in existence.

Sun’s warm feelings nearly canceled out entirely.

“Thank you for that.” Mullen managed to growl out the gratitude in a clear, concise manner.

Somewhere…pigs are flying. Droves and droves of them.

Unsure if she should add something kind to Roman’s butt-kiss, Sun remained silent. Mentally exhausted and then some.

Mullen pointed ahead. “That’s our exit. We’re almost there. So let’s get focused.”

Adrenaline pumped through Sun’s veins as she envisioned Alta Fabbri clutching tiny Marisol Atkins in her evil, manicured mobster hands. Aiden had said “assuming she’s still alive,” but Sun couldn’t allow herself to believe the infant was dead.

Their exit led to a two-lane highway that stretched out across the Virginia marshlands with quiet, unassuming beauty. As Mullen drove onward, Sun promised herself that, sometime soon, she’d make time to go to the coast for something other than tracking murderous lunatics.

Turning onto an even narrower road, Mullen slowed the vehicle and rolled his window down. He stuck an arm out, whirling his finger in the air and signaling SWAT to go ahead. As the three black SUVs whizzed by, Sun adjusted her bulletproof vest.

Whether Alta was at the boathouse or not, Aiden had assured them the location would be under armed guard. Yet as they crept closer, outpost lights showed not one sign of life.

SWAT stormed the boathouse like a swarm of bees, fanning out and invading the building in near silence while Sun, Mullen, and Roman stood beside the parked vehicles, weapons at low ready, keeping a watchful eye out for any activity.

But within minutes, the SWAT team exited the boathouse just as quietly as they’d approached. One of them held up a hand to the agents, indicating no one was inside.

Sun let out a deep breath, frustrated that they’d come so far only to find nothing.

“So it’s the plane hangar,” Mullen muttered, turning toward them. “I’ll report to SSA Parrish immediately that we’ve ruled this location out. We can attempt to join them, but they’re already farther⁠—”

Gunfire rained down, merciless, steady, and wholly unexpected. Mullen scanned the trees, returning fire and pausing only to shove Sun behind the SUV. “Agent Arnett, get down! That’s an order!”

But as Sun stumbled back to her feet, enraged at having been tossed from harm’s way, she saw Roman barely obey the command. Moving up next to the wheel well, he stood with his upper half exposed across the hood, seemingly putting his trust in his vest as he expertly aimed his gun alongside Mullen and opened fire at the sneak attackers.

If Mullen didn’t kill him for that, Sun would.

Sun counted three goons blasting their weapons from their stations among the tree line. She raised her gun, joining her teammates and the entire SWAT team in eliminating the bastards Alta had left to pick them off.

The numbers were on their side. An overabundance of gunfire took the shooters out one by one, eliminating the threat and returning the cool night air to silence.

“No way no one got hit.” Sun scanned the land surrounding the boathouse, spotting at least two of their own who appeared to be down. “Shit.”

She turned to find Roman flat on the ground with Mullen kneeling beside him. Roman groaned as Mullen pressed against his wounds.

“Arnett’s taken two hits to the stomach, just under his vest.” Mullen shouted over his shoulder. “Get me the Stop the Bleed kit and call for medical. Now! He’s losing a lot of blood.”

Roman’s head lolled to the side, his eyes unfocused, lips parted in a silent groan. When he went still, something deep and hidden cracked open in Sun’s chest, raw and brutal.

Not him. Not now.

It wasn’t just another agent down. It was Roman.

Leaving.

Dying.

She stumbled forward a step before Mullen’s voice broke through her haze. “Go, Agent Ming. Now!”

Her feet moved on instinct, boots slamming against the ground as she sprinted toward the gear. Her hands were shaking, but she forced them to obey. Yanked open the case. Fumbled the kit. Radioed for medical with barely steady breath.

Roman wasn’t just another agent.

She liked him. Hell, maybe more than liked.

And now he was bleeding out under the stars, on the same night she almost admitted it to herself.

As she raced back with the kit, she didn’t let herself cry. Not yet.

But if Roman Arnett died tonight…she might not forgive herself for waiting too long.

35

Autumn spent the drive to the Fabbri hangar dutifully studying the layout of the property and reminding herself she’d have time for all her burning questions and conflicting emotions later. Sitting in the passenger’s seat while Aiden drove felt both natural and surreal, but that wasn’t important.

Saving Marisol Atkins was the focus. Stopping Alta’s unhinged plans and ending the absolute madness the Fabbri family had gifted the BAU once and for all.

Time’s up, Alta.

Guilt coursed through Autumn’s body every time she thought of the woman. How she’d hated her. Blamed her. Obsessed over what she’d thought Alta had done to Aiden.

Wrong. She’d been so wrong.

Yet even in this new reality, Alta was still a murderer and a kidnapper, among all her other criminal activity. Autumn didn’t exactly owe the woman an apology.

“We’re almost there.” Aiden pointed toward the GPS screen on the console. “Remember, SWAT clears the perimeter surrounding the building first. They take out the guards and have eyes on Alta before any of us approach, assuming Alta’s in the building at all. That is a nonnegotiable plan, everyone.”

“Roger that,” Bree confirmed. “We’re all on the same page here.”

Aiden slid his gaze toward Autumn, catching her eye, before returning it to the road. “Everything understood, Agent Trent?”

Half of her wanted to smack him for daring to be authoritative after his monthlong disappearance to the grave. The other half held in a laugh. “Loud and clear, sir.”

Taking orders from my dead boyfriend. Sure. Why not?

From the back road surrounded by pines and maples that blocked out the starlight, Aiden caught the turn on to a single paved strip of a lane that led to the hangar one mile down.

He pulled into the grass, parking behind a large stand of trees. The two SWAT vehicles did the same. “Stay put.” Aiden exited the SUV, disappearing into the darkness as he ran over the game plan a final time with the SWAT officers, per protocol.

Autumn turned toward the back seat, where Bree double-checked her bulletproof vest with a somber expression. “Are we ready for this?”

“What if the baby’s already dead?” Bree asked the question in a flat, emotionless drone. “We could be too late.”

Autumn could only imagine Bree’s feelings on the situation, having her own infant at home with her wife. The idea that someone so innocent could be under such dire threat was nearly unfathomable.

Then again, what case had they worked that didn’t include brutal, unthinkable acts only a deranged mind could commit? Like it or not, “disturbing” was their wheelhouse.

“Alta needs Marisol as a bargaining chip until she’s safely overseas.” Autumn reasoned the woman was too careful to dispose of the baby just yet. “If she’s still here, the baby’s with her.”

Aiden opened the driver’s side door. “We’re joining B Team. “Let’s go.”

Doubt and fear would have to stay behind. They had work to do.

After a quick exit from the SUV, they fell into a single-file line behind Aiden, guns drawn, automatic stealth mode kicking in the second their boots hit the ground. He led them through the trees, just to the right of the lane.

Autumn’s senses entered overdrive as they reached the edge of the woods. Aiden held up a hand, halting their approach. “We wait here while SWAT clears.”

The delay was maddening. Whether Alta was present or not, the hangar seemed far from abandoned. Illumination streamed from its skylights, giving a minimal, shadowy view of the landing strip stretching out behind the building. How many corporations and hidden accounts and assets did these people have?

If the SWAT officers had run into any resistance, the confrontation had been silent. The crew had gone in with suppressed weapons, so she wasn’t surprised.

Autumn’s earpiece crackled to life. “Two threats established. Two threats down. Eyes on Fabbri and the hostage from the skylights. Both alive.”

Aiden shot a quick glance over his shoulder. “Through the side. Follow the plan.”

Heartbeat pounding in her ears, Autumn took off for the door with Bree at her heels. If the entrance was locked, they’d have to try another. They just had to avoid making noise loud enough to cause a disturbance so they could take Alta completely off guard.

Autumn reached the staunch steel door and gave its lever handle a push. The door creaked open without issue. Holding her gun at the ready, she pushed harder, sliding the entrance open carefully until a telltale metallic squeak sounded.

Maybe Alta had heard it. Maybe she hadn’t.

They couldn’t wait to find out.

“Approach.” Ducking inside, Autumn spotted Alta on the far side of the room, past a sleek private jet near the runway exit. And she bounced Marisol on her hip like any normal woman might to keep an infant calm.

“Aren’t you a good little girl?” Alta’s sickeningly sweet voice echoed off the hangar walls. “Maybe I won’t have to dump you into the ocean mid-flight after all.”

She stood at the bottom of the jet’s lowered staircase, holding Marisol in one arm, her other hand casually draped at her side. The baby squirmed, whining softly, and Alta adjusted her grip with the unsettling ease of someone used to controlling something fragile.

Autumn held her breath, crouching just inside the hangar’s shadowy entrance. Alta hadn’t seen her yet—or was pretending not to. Either way, Autumn used the silence to her advantage, easing forward behind the cover of a stacked toolbox, then a metal support beam.

Ten feet. Eight.

Closer now. Just a few more steps and⁠—

A crunch. The faintest shift of gravel beneath her boot.

Alta’s head snapped around. Dark eyes narrowed with instant, feral recognition. “You bitch.” She jerked backward, hauling Marisol tighter to her chest as she drew a gun from her waistband in a blur of movement. The barrel rose with terrifying precision, locking onto the baby’s temple.

Autumn centered her sights on the woman’s forehead. “Put the baby down, Alta. It’s over.”

“Stop right there, or this gets extremely ugly.” She actually laughed. “I’ll blow this little shit’s brains out if you even breathe in my direction.”

Knowing she’d do exactly that, Autumn lowered her hands to her sides but didn’t drop her weapon. Every cell in her body screamed to act, even though she knew she couldn’t. Not yet. Not with that gun pressed against Marisol’s skull.

“Easy.” Autumn kept her voice low, calm, as her heart thundered like a war drum in her chest. “No one’s moving. We just want the baby safe.”

Alta’s lips curled into a twisted smile. “Oh, don’t worry. She’s perfectly safe…until she’s not.”

“Come on, Alta. You don’t want to do that. You’re in enough trouble as it is. Judges and juries really don’t look kindly on infanticide.”

From the corner of her eye, Autumn spotted Bree creeping around the perimeter.

“I’m not going before any judge or jury.” Alta seethed as Marisol whimpered in her arms. “What I plan to do is get on that plane with my little carry-on and get the fuck out of here. And you’re going to let me, because you don’t want a dead baby on your conscience.”

Autumn ventured a step forward. “You won’t even make it off the ground. The hangar’s surrounded by highly trained snipers who have their weapons pointed right at you.” She nodded up at the skylights.

Sneering as she glanced overhead, Alta refused to back down. “And you’re telling me they’re under orders to put this kid in danger?”

“All I’m saying,” Autumn noted Bree disappearing behind the plane, “is that there’s no way in hell that plane is going anywhere.”

“And all I’m saying,” Alta eased up to the second step, never taking her focus off Autumn, “is that you’re a stupid bitch, and I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

Bree appeared behind Alta, her gun pressed against the back of a cuffed man in uniform as she pushed him forward. “The problem is, Alta, that you no longer have a pilot, and I’m guessing he’s kind of essential to operating the plane.”

“You dumb fuck.” Alta tossed the insult over her shoulder at the man, who appeared less than pleased to be included in the current predicament. “I told you to keep an eye out.”

He scowled but said nothing, only moving where Bree nudged him and stopping when she said so.

“Joke’s on you, federal assholes.” Alta burst out a maniacal laugh. “I’ve flown a plane before, and no one’s going to shoot at an aircraft and risk blowing up the baby. So I think I’ll strap this brat in and take my chances.”

Autumn hadn’t counted on Alta having piloting experience. Maybe she was bluffing. But it didn’t matter.

“I don’t think you really want to try that.” Aiden’s voice boomed from behind the plane as he made his way through the back entrance.

Alta kept her gun pressed to Marisol’s temple as she turned to follow the voice of a dead man. Her eyes went wide with shock.

The awe on the woman’s face was undeniable. While Alta hadn’t taken Aiden out herself, she’d certainly believed he was six feet under. That someone had ended him.

But they hadn’t.

Autumn shook off the fresh wave of guilt, taking advantage of Alta’s frozen state and moving closer.

They had her surrounded. True to her Fabbri character, though, Alta seemed incapable of accepting she’d been caught, gazing at them all with disbelief and outrage.

The Mafia princess ascended the stairs to the plane—backward and in heels, no less—continuing to hold Marisol in front of her like a shield.

“Ray! Close the stairs and get us out of here now!” She screamed the commands, stopping inside the plane doorway to flash them a triumphant smile. “I’ve never flown a day in my life. But I made sure I had more than one pilot at my disposal. Good luck with your shitty lives, assholes.”

As Alta and the infant disappeared into the depths of the plane, the airstairs began to rise.

Autumn locked gazes with Aiden. “We can’t let them get away.”

And they very well couldn’t shoot the plane down with Marisol aboard.

Aiden nodded, holstering his gun. “Make a jump for it.” He barreled toward the rising staircase, leaping onto the metal and landing on his stomach with an oomph.

Autumn followed suit, sprinting and jumping as high as she could. Her fingers caught the lip of the stairs as they continued to rise, and she realized that Aiden might be going at this alone, despite her best efforts.

His grip on her hand and the violent yank upward had them both tumbling sideways onto the plane floor as the airstairs sealed shut. Autumn rolled to her feet just in time to dodge a punch from another uniformed man. She returned it, catching his jaw with a solid hook.

The second pilot. Great.

He came at her again, tripping as Aiden grabbed his leg.

The man, presumably Ray, moaned when Autumn’s knee caught his chin on the way down. Blood flowed from his mouth, and he made no attempt to stand, instead writhing on the ground and holding his face.

Aiden pointed toward the back of the plane. Autumn glanced around and spotted the tiny lavatory. If Alta got inside, they’d have no leverage, no sightline.

But Alta didn’t do what a normal thinking person would. She was too wound up, too deep in the spiral of her own fury. She stayed in view, pressed against the back wall of the plane with Marisol clutched tight and a gun in her trembling hand.

Aiden stepped over the pilot. “Cuff this guy. I’ll get Marisol.”

Leaning over Ray, Autumn did as she was told, cuffing his wrists together and rolling him to the side to clear the aisle.

Two pilots down. Now let’s save that baby.

Aiden had reached mid-plane when another of Alta’s lackeys crept from behind one of the seats, raising a handgun and aiming it at the back of his head.

“Get down!” Autumn screamed before firing at the unexpected goon. Once. Twice. Three times.

The final shot went straight into the side of the sneak attacker’s head. He dropped like a sack of cement.

Aiden whirled from his crouched position. His eyes widened at the body lying mere feet away. If Autumn hadn’t seen and shot the man when she did, he likely would’ve been the one bleeding out on the floor.

“You saved me.” Aiden got to his feet, his voice a stunned monotone as he returned his gun to the ready.

Autumn didn’t have the time to imagine how many times Aiden’s undercover operation had protected her over the last month. “You’ve saved me plenty. And you’re not allowed to die again. Now, why don’t you let me talk to Alta, woman to woman?”

36

Autumn was determined to stop the shooting, the deaths, and the absolute insanity of Alta’s destructive path. Tornadoes could only go on so long before losing force.

Aiden made no argument, moving aside and waving her forward.

“It’s over, Alta.” Autumn moved to mid-cabin, stopping when Alta’s nostrils flared and she pressed the gun tighter against the screaming baby’s head. “Your backup pilot is down. Your bodyguard is dead. You’re alone with nowhere to go.”

“Fuck you.” Alta lifted her chin. “Fuck all of you to hell. I still have the baby. She doesn’t belong to anyone but me.”

Autumn caught the wobble in Alta’s voice, as though the woman were fighting back unwanted emotions. “Yes, you have Marisol. And so far, you’ve kept her safe. Because she’s your blood. She’s your family.”

“My only family!” Alta’s rage was strong enough to blow the plane apart. But anger wasn’t the only sentiment exploding from her words.

Unable to touch her, Autumn couldn’t confirm anything, but her psychologist’s mind and intuition declared loud and clear that Alta Fabbri was overwhelmed with a distinctly human struggle.

Sadness. Mourning. Despite the fierce character she played for the rest of the world, Alta was drowning in the hollowed-out ache of unbelievable loss.

“I understand you’re hurting.” Autumn could no longer force a militant tone. “You lost your mother to murder. Your father’s in prison for the rest of his life. Your brothers were murdered in a horrible, unthinkable manner. The trauma you’ve endured would be a lot for anyone.”

Alta gave no reply, but a single tear traced down her cheek.

The time had come for simple truth.

“My parents were criminals too.” Autumn allowed herself only a mental glimpse of the little girl she’d once been and the couple who’d created her before pushing past the memories. “They’re both gone now. They weren’t even kind to me, but I loved them. I’ll always love them. And I mourn them. I ache for them the same way any child would. The same way you ache for yours.”

Like a gift, Marisol stopped crying, though the red-faced baby was far from happy. Poor thing looked exhausted.

Autumn kept the momentum going. “You didn’t even get to speak about your parents growing up. You were forced to live a lie and suffer in silence. And what that did to you, Alta, isn’t your fault. It would break anyone’s spirit. Anger seems like an easier path, don’t you think?”

“My brothers…my family.” Alta’s voice cracked with agony. “Decimated. Gone. And you want me to hand over the one thing I have left. You want me to just give this baby up and be…and be alone.”

Everyone’s most basic and natural fear.

Autumn gulped down the lump forming in her throat. “I promise all I want is for you to do what’s right. Marisol will always be your family. But she belongs with her mother. She belongs with Charity. You already stole Charity’s mother from her. Make it as right as you can and give her back her baby.”

Alta’s arms tightened around Marisol, her jaw clenched like a trap. For one long second, it looked like she might crack just enough to do the right thing.

But the glint returned to her eyes. A sliver of that original madness cut through the sorrow.

“You want her?” Alta’s voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. “Then take her.”

Before Autumn could move, Alta threw the baby at her.

Autumn lunged, catching Marisol against her chest, twisting her body to shield the baby. She hit the floor hard, shoulder first, cradling the infant like glass.

A gunshot cracked. Whose? Alta’s or Aiden’s, Autumn didn’t know.

Autumn rolled, one arm shielding Marisol, her free hand scrambling for her weapon.

Alta had drawn her second gun, one she’d hidden beneath her jacket, and fired just wide of Aiden.

“Bitch!” Alta screamed, still aiming, eyes blazing.

Autumn raised her gun, but Aiden got there first.

A single shot rang out.

Alta jerked back, the pistol flying from her hand as a bullet ripped through her shoulder. She stumbled, stunned, and fell against the cabin wall with a choked sob.

Autumn pushed upright, breath shallow, heart slamming behind her ribs. Marisol screamed against her chest, terrified but unharmed.

Alta blinked rapidly, her bravado gone. Blood bloomed through her blouse, shock swallowing her expression. Aiden kicked the weapon away and pinned her arms behind her, snapping cuffs tight as she slumped to her knees.

“Try it again.” His voice was low and venomous. “See what happens.”

Autumn rocked the baby gently, trying to slow her racing heart. She looked down at Alta…no longer a queen in control, but a bleeding, broken woman on a luxury carpet never meant for her.

Autumn expected Aiden to haul Alta to her feet, but instead, he pulled off his tie and pressed it to her wound.

“I promise you, Alta.” Aiden waited until the young woman looked up. “I’ve already paid for the pain I caused your family. I’ve paid a million times over.”

Baby still in her arms, Autumn crouched in front of Alta. Needing to know what the woman was feeling, she reached out and placed a hand on her arm. A heavy punch of misery staggered through her soul. Sure, Alta Fabbri was still rageful. Indignant. But the strongest current flowing from her was sorrow.

I was just a little girl, too, at one point. A little girl ripped away from my parents in an utterly heinous manner. If anyone knows how that feels, it’s me.

She didn’t have to employ a tactic now, as genuine empathy coated her words. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe you ever would’ve harmed a hair on this baby’s head.”

Maury Fabbri had been worried that his daughter would kill Marisol.

But you never really knew your daughter, did you, Maury?

Taken off guard, Alta fumbled for a response before finally recovering a weak scowl. “Why? Because you used your voodoo behavioral analysis bullshit to get me to cry? Doesn’t mean anything. You’re trained to break people. I’m still exactly who you thought I was, you federal bitch.”

But Autumn was certain. Her sixth sense—albeit a bittersweet gift—never lied. And if Alta Fabbri could still truly care for someone aside from herself, she wasn’t lost beyond all hope.

No one was past saving. With just a glimmer of humanity left inside, even the worst criminals could change.

Maybe.

37

Aiden stood outside the hangar, surrounded by the cherry lights of law enforcement, exhausted to his very core.

He’d watched the agents load Alta Fabbri into an armored vehicle, needing to see it for himself. A part of him wanted to inform Maury they’d apprehended his daughter and taken his granddaughter out of harm’s way. Maybe he’d call the man tomorrow. Let him die with a bit of peace.

But tonight, they had other fires to put out. Like SSA Mullen’s frantic message about a gravely wounded Agent Arnett. Could any good thing happen without a tragedy also occurring? Two other SWAT team members had been taken down, but their injuries were, thankfully, not life-threatening.

As soon as the chaos subsided, Aiden would inform the rest of the team. Mullen had promised to keep him updated once Arnett arrived at the hospital.

Aiden typed a quick text to Sun.

I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll see you all soon. They’ll get Agent Arnett patched up. I’m sure of it.

He had no way of guaranteeing that, and Sun would understand. But he needed to say it. Leaders led. They comforted when they could and turned to pillars of stone when necessary to prop up those who looked to them for guidance.

“And sometimes,” Aiden muttered, “they fake their own deaths to save the people they love most while simultaneously traumatizing them in a permanent and unavoidable manner.”

He might’ve laughed if he wasn’t talking about the ridiculous truth of his own life.

“What’s that?” Autumn appeared at his side as though she’d teleported from another dimension.

Sometimes, he was convinced she truly had.

“Nothing.” He smiled at her, hating that he was about to dampen their victory with news of Roman’s injury.

She raised an eyebrow. “I want to ask you something.”

He’d expected the barrage of questions to start as soon as they wrapped up the case. “Shoot.”

“What did you mean in there?” Autumn hugged herself, giving the hangar a glance. “When you said you’d already paid for failing the Fabbris?”

Heart sinking to his stomach, Aiden pressed his lips together, unsure how to adequately respond. Up until a month ago, he’d thought killing a person illegally was the worst thing he could do. But now?

Everything in his past paled in comparison to what he’d put Autumn through.

After a few moments, he waved a hand at the scene surrounding them. “We managed to end this nightmare. It’s a win. An epic win. But the chaos involved in that process likely cost me the only thing in the world I ever truly wanted.”

Her brows knitted together. “I’m not following.”

“You.” He closed his hands into fists, wanting to pull her close but refraining. “A life with you. That’s all I really want. But you’ll never be able to trust me again…not after what I put you through. And what kind of life is that? It’ll ruin us. I ruined us.”

Autumn grabbed his hand, yanking him toward her, audience be damned style. Her fingers closed around his, firm and electric.

Though they’d never spoken about it outright, Aiden knew she was different. Special. When Autumn touched someone, she didn’t just guess how they felt—she knew. It was like her skin translated emotion the way eyes read words. She’d felt fear and rage and sorrow in others long before they ever spoke. Winter had something special about her, too, though Autumn’s gift ran deeper. Sharper.

Maybe one day they’d talk about it. Maybe not. Right now, he didn’t care if she was psychic or a soul-reader or something without a name. All that mattered was that she’d reached for him. That she could feel everything in him—and still hadn’t let go.

“Don’t you ever say that again.” Her emerald eyes bored into him, stern and unrelenting yet full of affection. “Trust is going to be…a journey. I won’t deny that. But we’ll get there. Nothing will ever ‘ruin’ us. Do you hear me? We made it through death. We can make it through anything.”

And with her hand in his, he believed her.

38

Autumn entered her apartment shortly after midnight, unsure if the day had been nothing more than a dream. An illusion. She’d wake up any second, and Aiden would still be⁠—

“No.” She pinched herself, relishing the pain. “This is real.”

Aiden had wanted to come over after the briefing, and she’d wanted the same. But she owed it to Winter to come home and go over all the insanity with her best friend first.

Flipping on the light, Autumn jumped as she spotted Winter sitting upright on the couch, her suitcases packed and ready beside her. Toad sat on her lap, his tail wagging in circles. Peach gave a plaintive meow from her position on the kitchen counter and promptly went back to sleep.

Autumn crossed the room and sank into the cushions beside Winter, giving Toad a loving scratch on the chin. “It’s over. We caught Alta. We saved Marisol. The Fabbri mess is done.”

“That’s excellent.” Winter looked as relieved as she felt. “Seriously excellent.”

“Yep.” Autumn met her friend’s eyes. “And something else. Something unbelievable. I don’t even know how to begin to tell you this, but⁠—”

“Aiden’s still alive.” Winter blurted out the information like a volcano. “His death was all for show. He was secretly working with a task force to protect you, and all of us, I guess, from Alta Fabbri.”

Autumn’s jaw dropped. “How did you…when did you…”

“Vision stuff.” Winter made the statement with confidence, and Autumn grabbed her friend’s hand, confirming the truth of her answer. “I’ll tell you the story eventually, but you’ve had a long enough night. Just tell me you punched him in the face at least once when you found out.”

“I wanted to.” Autumn managed an exhausted chuckle. “But I think it’ll be okay. I’m not sure how or what exactly comes next. I just feel like it’s all going to work out. I mean, he’s alive. I love him, and he’s alive. That’s a gift, right?”

“It is.” Winter patted her leg. “And I think I have an idea of what comes next. I had one of my visions a couple of hours ago. Second one of the day, actually. They’re usually so foggy, but this was clear. Bright. Technicolor, you know?”

Autumn didn’t, but she could imagine. “So? Spill.”

Winter grinned, closing her eyes as she spoke. “I saw you and Aiden…laughing at a dinner table…and children. Little kids running around and laughing with you. A couple of them had emerald eyes. So, yeah, it’s safe to say you two are going to recover from this. Sixth senses don’t lie.”

“Preaching to the choir, Black.” Autumn squeezed Winter’s hand again, relishing the instant course of affection emanating from her best friend’s skin. “But thank you for telling me that. It’s beautiful.”

“Yup.” Winter pointed at her suitcase. “And I’m sending you the dry cleaning bill for the sweater I ruined with that nosebleed. Talk about a gusher.”

Autumn laughed, her eyes welling with tears. “It’s a deal.” She attempted to sit up straight. “You’re going home already? Don’t you want to talk to Aiden? See him?”

Winter let out a long sigh, gently pulling her hand away. “I do. And I will. Eventually. But right now, I’m taking the red-eye back to my husband. My grandparents. My job. You’re safe. Aiden rose from the dead. I’d say this was a successful trip.”

Autumn sensed something more Winter wasn’t telling her, but she was willing to wait until her friend was ready.

“And maybe you can visit again soon, for something that isn’t related to a funeral or crisis situation.” Autumn envisioned them eating Mexican and downing margaritas.

“Absolutely.” A horn sounded outside, and Winter rose to her feet. “That’s my cab. But one more thing before I go.”

Autumn stood as well, mildly alarmed. “What?”

Winter held up a hand. “Nothing bad, Trent. Relax. I just thought I’d suggest you check in on your friend Dr. Plath once in a while.”

“Jewel?” Autumn had nearly forgotten the woman altogether after the day’s events.

“That’s the one.” Winter flashed Autumn a mischievous grin. “You were right. She’s far more interesting than the average physician. But she’s going to need some help adjusting to her new self. She’s finding out that life can be unexplainably complicated for some of us.”

Autumn didn’t need Winter to say another word on the matter. Jewel was special, just like them. Just like Emma Last. That made four of them just in this tiny corner of the world.

“I wonder how many more of us are out there.”

Winter pulled Autumn into a hug, squeezing tightly before releasing her. “I don’t know. But it’s nice to know we’re not alone.”

“Yeah.” Autumn’s heart sank as Winter grabbed her bags and headed for the door. “You were the first person who ever made me feel like I wasn’t completely on my own. Do you know that?”

Winter glanced over her shoulder, her sapphire eyes rimmed with tears. “I do. And same to you. Now go call that super-alive boyfriend of yours and tell him to get his ass over here. You two have a lot of catching up to do, and I’m guessing you’d like to get to it sooner than later.”

Autumn watched from the window as Winter loaded her bags into the trunk and jumped into the back seat of her cab. Many times, she’d hated that her best friend had moved so far away, but there were moments like this one when she knew it didn’t matter.

Some things never changed.

39

Keaton sank back against his double-stacked pillows, grateful that Sarah had the bed ready and waiting when he finally showed up at her doorstep. While he hadn’t been able to go with the rest of the team, he’d also been unwilling to leave the field office until the mission and debriefing were over.

The takedown of Alta Fabbri had made for a long night for everyone.

Getting home after midnight wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he left Sarah in the park that morning, and not every woman in the world would be so relaxed about the sometimes-insane hours he worked.

He’d lucked out. Hit the jackpot.

But now that jackpot of a girlfriend was attempting to process that her sister’s boyfriend was alive. Not blown to smithereens. Not buried in the cemetery. Alive.

Sarah twisted a long blond strand around her finger, staring at Keaton like the story couldn’t possibly be true. “And Autumn’s okay? She just accepted it?”

“I didn’t see their actual reunion.” Keaton couldn’t have been happier about anything. What an emotional shit show that must’ve been. “But I’m guessing she didn’t just accept it initially. It hit us all hard. Like, we need group therapy hard. But you’ll have to talk to her about it. Honestly, she’s the one who should tell you the details.”

“But he’s alive.” Sarah repeated the revelation for the millionth time, climbing into bed and snuggling close to his side. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Should I call her now?”

Keaton considered the situation, his cheeks flushing hot as he did so. “I mean, I’m guessing they might be…sorting things out right about now.”

She laughed, clicking off the bedside lamp. “Point taken. First thing in the morning, I’m calling. Although they might still be sorting things out then too. For a few days, even.”

While Sarah chuckled away, Keaton tried to mentally bleach his brain. Autumn had become like a sister to him. Aiden was his boss.

Anything else. Think about anything other than that, for the love of God.

But of course, thoughts of Gerald Brady shot into his consciousness instead.

He didn’t have a choice in the matter. Kill or let Roman be killed. Keaton understood he’d done nothing wrong and wasn’t worried about answering for his actions to his superiors. He’d tell the truth and get back to his work, accepting that what had happened with Brady was a part of the job, and he’d always known that.

Taking a life wasn’t that easy to forget, though. Keaton had a feeling he’d be seeing Brady’s angry face in his dreams for a long time, as well as battling the natural guilt already prickling at his insides. Talking to Sarah about what he’d done—been forced to do—would help.

But he wasn’t ready to put that weight on her shoulders just yet.

One major thought had been booming through his head since the debriefing after the case ended, and he intended to give his full attention to it.

Seeing Autumn and Aiden back together, that powerful connection coming back as though no time had passed—in spite of the trauma of the underground operation—Keaton had realized he was looking at real love. The kind of love he wanted.

Then he’d pictured Sarah, and he was certain he already had it. Forever love. Unconditional. Unbreakable.

If he knew that, what was he waiting for?

Keaton tightened his grip around Sarah. “I want to talk to you about something. Something big.”

“Something bigger than your team putting away Alta Fabbri and the Crucifier again…in the same damn day? Bigger than Aiden being alive?”

“Bigger than anything.” Nothing could be more important in this very moment. Or ever. Not to him anyway.

“Okay, Agent Holland. I’m actually getting sleepy now.” Sarah yawned loudly to emphasize. “But what’s up?”

He figured there was a right way to do this but didn’t have the patience to wait any longer. He wanted her to be his like he’d never wanted anything before in life.

“Marry me.” The words spilled out into the near darkness of Sarah’s bedroom. She froze beside him. He felt her heart beating like a drum on fire.

For an awful minute, he thought maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she wasn’t in the same place.

Maybe she would say no.

Sarah finally lifted her head to look into his eyes and grabbed his face with both hands. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Keaton let the word sink in. “I don’t even have a ring yet. I’ll get you one. I just wanted to ask now. I couldn’t wait. I had to get it out, and⁠—”

Sarah silenced him with a passionate kiss, making him forget what he’d been saying, thinking, or even doing for the last twenty-four hours. The last twenty-eight years. She paused, lifting a finger to tap the tip of his nose. “I said yes.”

Keaton smiled so wide, his cheeks hurt. “Good. That’s good.” He couldn’t form a proper, intelligent sentence. Didn’t care to.

“Well, that’s settled, then!” Sugar’s screech came through the bedroom wall. “You both have my blessing! You were going to ask for that next, right?”

Sputtering into laughter, Sarah tilted her head toward Sugar’s room. “You do know I come with accessories, right? Jesus. What’s Autumn going to say about this?”

In the past, Keaton would’ve worried about that, but not anymore. He figured Autumn would be just fine with the news. She was already family anyway.

The End

40

Autumn shifted a bouquet of flowers from one arm to the other, thankful they were walking down a hospital hall and not a funeral aisle.

“Are you sure he’s going to want this?” Aiden gave the giant teddy bear she’d forced him to carry a shake. “He’s a grown man.”

“He’s also Roman. And he’ll love it.” She laughed. Aiden loaded down with a stuffed animal and a ridiculously large balloon bouquet was a sight to behold. Partially, she’d made him carry them because she couldn’t carry everything.

But mostly she’d done it for her own entertainment.

Aiden nodded, resigning himself to his fate. “If you say so.”

“Rome is an interesting guy.” Autumn didn’t think she could accurately describe him. Roman was more of an…experience. “You’ll think he’s too big and too loud and too everything, and then you’ll end up loving him. I promise.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Aiden shot her a grin.

God, I missed that smile.

Only four days had passed, but one thing had become very clear. They were far from being ruined, and neither one of them was going anywhere. In fact, if they had their way, they’d never leave her bedroom again.

“Here’s his room.” Aiden halted at the door, which was cracked open a mere inch or so. “Wait. Someone else is in there.”

Autumn strained to pick up the voices inside. “It’s Sun. And I’m not surprised.”

Aiden raised his eyebrows. “She acted like she could barely stand the guy.”

“Exactly.” Autumn leaned in closer. “That’s how you know she really likes him. Now shush. This is better than a soap opera.”

“And for a moment, I really didn’t know if you’d pull through.” Sun’s usual snark had vanished completely. “It was scary as hell.”

“Well, thanks for saving me.” Roman laughed like he wasn’t glued to a hospital bed and healing from multiple gunshot wounds. “I really wasn’t ready to check out just yet.”

Sun snorted. “All I did was call for medical. Mullen saved you with all his fancy Boy Scout skills. I can’t take credit for that.”

“Okay.” Roman’s voice softened. “Well, you brought me black licorice, even though you despise it more than anything in the whole world. So thanks for that, then.”

Laughter bubbled out of the room. Autumn exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Aiden.

Sun Ming. Laughing out loud for the entire hospital wing to hear.

Roman cleared his throat. “Maybe you could do me one more favor when I get out of here.”

“Don’t push your luck, Arnett.” There was the sass they all knew and loved. “It totally depends on the favor.”

“Fair enough.” Roman slipped into some kind of serious mode that was just as shocking as Sun laughing out loud. “How’s about when I kick free of this hospital bed, you let me take you out on a date?”

Autumn’s jaw dropped. She would’ve paid money to see the look on Sun’s face.

“I’ll consider it.” Sun’s evasive answer was a definite yes in her language. “Might have to mentally block out that you’re from Nebraska, though.”

Autumn grabbed Aiden by the elbow, and they hurried down the hall away from the door. She was thrilled with the new development. “This is excellent. I swear I had a feeling about those two. Sun’s going to be one busy woman when Rome’s back on his feet.”

“She is.” Aiden raised an eyebrow, still clutching the teddy bear the size of a toddler to his side. “And she’s going to have to figure out how to balance dating Roman with handling the new position Cassidy and I are about to offer her.”

41

Autumn clinked her Styrofoam cup with those of the other members of the BAU.

Keaton had retrieved an apple juice from the vending machine in the breakroom—they were on the clock, after all—and the toast to Sun’s promotion to SSA over violent crime was complete.

“No one deserves it more.” Autumn pulled Sun into a one-armed hug. “You were born to kick ass.”

Laughing at the statement, Sun shifted the attention elsewhere. “How about we toast to Keaton and his bride-to-be? Bet you never thought this guy would end up being your brother-in-law.”

Autumn flashed Keaton a giant grin. “She’s right. I didn’t. But I’m thrilled it turned out this way. Sarah couldn’t be happier.”

“I don’t know why.” Keaton shrugged, blushing cherry red. “I’m just…me.”

Aiden clapped him on the back. “Enough of that. No more imposter syndrome. Not on my watch. You’re a fine agent and a good man. She’s lucky to have you.”

“Wow.” Bree put a hand to her chest. “That might be the nicest thing Aiden has ever said to anyone…at least in this building.”

“Ha.” Aiden lifted his shoulders. “Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

Sun snorted. “Rising from the grave can do that to a person.”

The humorous observation was more accurate than Sun could’ve known. Aiden hadn’t changed so much as he’d become more of himself. Autumn had teased him about it, too, calling him Aiden 2.0. That was, when she wasn’t fighting the urge to slap him for ever leaving her. But she wouldn’t have traded the ebb and flow of emotions for the alternative.

Not everyone got a second chance.

“Charity Atkins is settled into her new apartment with Marisol.” Bree threw out a reminder of another lucky person who’d gotten a new lease on life. “I stopped in to check on her yesterday. She’s grieving for her mother, but I think she’s going to be okay. She’s got that little darling to keep her going strong.”

Autumn decided she’d make her own visit to Charity in the near future. Maybe several, so the young woman understood she wasn’t alone in this world, regardless of what she’d lost. “Charity deserves a happy ending. As happy as it can be anyway.”

In their line of work, happy endings were few and far between. So much of the time, they could only settle for justice. But Charity and Marisol had made it through the fire and had many years ahead, together and safe. Autumn really believed that.

“Roman gets out of the hospital tomorrow.” Sun avoided eye contact as if that would keep everyone from knowing how much she actually cared.

“Excellent.” Aiden checked his watch. “He’ll miss Mullen, though. Right now, I believe Gil’s on a plane to Sacramento.”

“Can’t say I’ll miss him,” Keaton admitted sheepishly, “but I’m grateful he was here to help save Rome’s life.”

“Cheers to that.” Autumn grinned, offering her juice cup for another careful toast. Whatever the man had put them through while in charge, he’d more than made up for everything by keeping Roman alive.

They were even now, and she wished him the best.

But it was no secret how pleased the entire team was to be back together. For the first time in months, the BAU didn’t feel like a broken, beat-up group of agents trying to recover from never-ending catastrophes.

We’re solid. We’re strong.

Good things awaited. She could feel it. No sixth-sense magic touch required.

She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew what she wanted to leave behind. Autumn’s legacy wouldn’t be defined by grief or violence. It would be defined by the lives she saved, the justice she demanded, and the hope she fought to protect.

Aiden’s phone dinged in his pocket. He pulled the device out, placing his cup on the conference table. After a few swipes, he broke into a smile. “I hate to break up this moment of merriment. I really do. But, Agents, we have a new case.”

The End

Yeah, yeah, I know. “The End” sucks.

But I’ve got more justice to chase

and people to love. And so do you.

Don’t waste your shot.

Love forever,

Autumn

WHAT’S NEXT?

FREE BOOK OFFER

How did it all start for Autumn Trent?

I hope you enjoyed Autumn’s Legacy. I have a very special and exclusive Free book offer for you - Autumn’s Rise: The Bonus Story. How did Autumn transform from a girl to a woman with a slew of advanced degrees? Autumn’s Rise is the prequel to my thrilling Autumn Trent Series and will take you back to the beginning. Interested?

Click HERE to get your free copy now!

** Available Nowhere Else!**

You’ll also be the first to know as soon as

I have a new book available.

If you enjoyed the Autumn Trent Series, I’d love to introduce you to my Emma Last Series.

Last Breath (Emma Last Series: Book 1)

Special Agent Emma Last and the rest of her team with the Washington, D.C. Violent Crimes Unit take on a case of multiple murders within a tight-knit traveling circus. For the first time, she is working side by side with a new transfer in place of her best friend. And of course, in the middle of all the chaos she’s faced with several other fresh acquaintances...of the dead variety. Intrigued?

Click HERE to get your copy now!

SERIES READING ORDER

Winter Black Series

Winter’s Mourn

Winter’s Curse

Winter’s Redemption

Winter’s Rise

Winter’s Ghost

Winter’s Secret

Winter’s Web

Winter’s Storm

Winter’s End

Autumn’s Game

Autumn’s Break

Autumn’s Fear

Autumn’s Rage

Autumn’s Chaos

Autumn’s Risk

Autumn’s Strike

Autumn’s Prize

Autumn’s Trap

WINTER BLACK - SEASON TWO

Can be read anytime after Autumn's Trap

Winter’s Black Christmas - A Standalone Winter Black Christmas Mystery

Winter’s Return

Winter’s Rescue

Winter’s Shock

Winter’s Gamble

Winter’s Peak

Winter’s Snare

Winter’s Stalker

Winter’s Maze

Winter's Legacy

AUTUMN TRENT - SEASON TWO

Can be read anytime after Autumn's Trap

Autumn’s Deceit

Autumn’s Warning

Autumn’s Chase

Autumn’s Fall

Autumn’s Riddle

Autumn’s Legacy

MORE BY THE AUTHOR

New Series

Genevieve Steel Series

Claire Legacy Series

Indie Reign Series

Crime Fiction

Autumn Trent Series (Completed)

Winter Black Series (Completed)

Journey Russo Series (Completed)

Ellie Kline Series (Completed)

Emma Last Series (Completed)

Charli Cross Series (Completed)

Shadow Island Series (Completed)

Amelia Storm Series (Completed)

Stella Knox Series (Completed)

Sky Stryker Series (Completed)

A Villain’s Story Series (Completed)

Kylie Hatfield Series (Completed)

Psychological Thrillers

Don’t Tell

Gone Viral

Her Perfect Lie

UPCOMING NEW SERIES

Olympia Smith Series (pre-order now)

Journey to Hawaii with FBI agent Olympia Smith. She might look like the all-American girl next door, but beneath her easygoing vibe lies a mind obsessed with puzzles and patterns. Using her sharp investigative skills and expertise in mentalism to solve Hawaii’s most violent crimes, Olympia’s greatest mystery is her own past. Orphaned at three with no memory of her family, her search for the truth will lead her into a dangerous web of secret societies, international espionage, and a family legacy steeped in betrayal. As bodies drop and secrets rise from Hawaii’s shadowy underbelly, Olympia will discover that some puzzles were never meant to be solved.

Ivy Chance Series (coming in 2025)

When Ivy moves to Key West for a fresh start with the FBI, she’s focused on building a new life for herself and her four-year-old daughter. But fate has other plans. A chance encounter with someone who looks exactly like her turns Ivy’s world upside down. What begins as a shocking meeting with a supposed doppelgänger reveals a deeper truth—they’re twins, torn apart by madness and lies at birth, brought together by fate. But the secrets that kept them apart for so long aren’t done yet. And some truths are more dangerous than the killers Ivy hunts.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The past few years have been a whirlwind of change, both personally and professionally, and I find myself at a loss for the right words to express my profound gratitude to those who have supported me on this remarkable journey. Yet, I am compelled to try.

To my sons, whose unwavering support has been my bedrock, granting me the time and energy to transform my darkest thoughts into words on paper. Your steadfast belief in me has never faltered, and watching each of you grow, welcoming the wonderful daughters you’ve brought into our family, has been a source of immense pride and joy.

Embarking on the dual role of both author and publisher has been an exhilarating, albeit challenging, adventure. Transitioning from the solitude of writing to the dynamic world of publishing has opened new horizons for me, and I’m deeply grateful for the opportunity to share my work directly with you, the readers.

I extend my heartfelt thanks to the entire team at Mary Stone Publishing, the same dedicated group who first recognized my potential as an indie author years ago. Your collective efforts, from the editors whose skillful hands have polished my words to the designers, marketers, and support staff who breathe life into these books, have been instrumental in resonating deeply with our readers. Each of you plays a crucial role in this journey, not only nurturing my growth but also ensuring that every story reaches its full potential. Your dedication, creativity, and finesse have been nothing short of invaluable.

However, my deepest gratitude is reserved for you, my beloved readers. You ventured off the beaten path of traditional publishing to embrace my work, investing your most precious asset—your time. It is my sincerest hope that this book has enriched that time, leaving you with memories that linger long after the last page is turned.

With all my love and heartfelt appreciation,

Mary

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nestled in the serene Blue Ridge Mountains of East Tennessee, Mary Stone crafts her stories surrounded by the natural beauty that inspires her. What was once a home filled with the lively energy of her sons has now become a peaceful writer's retreat, shared with cherished pets and the vivid characters of her imagination.

As her sons grew and welcomed wonderful daughters-in-law into the family, Mary's life entered a quieter phase, rich with opportunities for deep creative focus. In this tranquil environment, she weaves tales of courage, resilience, and intrigue, each story a testament to her evolving journey as a writer.

From childhood fears of shadowy figures under the bed to a profound understanding of humanity's real-life villains, Mary's style has been shaped by the realization that the most complex antagonists often hide in plain sight. Her writing is characterized by strong, multifaceted heroines who defy traditional roles, standing as equals among their peers in a world of suspense and danger.

Mary's career has blossomed from being a solitary author to establishing her own publishing house—a significant milestone that marks her growth in the literary world. This expansion is not just a personal achievement but a reflection of her commitment to bring thrilling and thought-provoking stories to a wider audience. As an author and publisher, Mary continues to challenge the conventions of the thriller genre, inviting readers into gripping tales filled with serial killers, astute FBI agents, and intrepid heroines who confront peril with unflinching bravery.

Each new story from Mary's pen—or her publishing house—is a pledge to captivate, thrill, and inspire, continuing the legacy of the imaginative little girl who once found wonder and mystery in the shadows.

Connect with Mary online