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  “What was that about back there?” Maggie asked.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m guessing Catherine’s mad about how I treated Becca. They’re best friends.”

  “Ah. And where is Becca today?”

  He sighed as he pulled out a key and unlocked a door on the right, gesturing for her to enter. His office was as neat and sterile as his condo had been. Not a drop of personality. But then, she wasn’t one to judge. After her brother’s murder, she’d rid her own house of family photographs and the little personal touches that made it a home. The reminders of how close her family had been before Brad’s death had just been too much for her to face every day.

  “She should be at the meeting,” he said. “And I’ll have to apologize.”

  “I think that’s a fine idea.”

  Ethan arched a brow at her, but Maggie quickly changed the subject. How he dealt with his coworkers was his business. Still, she’d come to like spunky Becca and wanted to help her if she could.

  “Was working for the Secret Service anything like this?” she asked, trailing her fingers over a top-of-the-line computer. Even she could see that the Society’s employees had anything and everything they needed to get the job done. She wondered if Damian was proud of what he’d accomplished. But then, until he caught the man who’d killed his daughter and left her in a cold, shallow grave in the middle of nowhere, he wouldn’t be satisfied.

  Ethan’s chuckle brought her back to the present. “No. Damian likes to have the latest and greatest in technology. It’s the second best perk of working here.”

  “What’s the first?”

  His grin held no amusement. “Putting the worst of the worst offenders away for good.”

  “Must be very satisfying.”

  “It is.”

  Maggie sensed there was more to his story. Just what made Ethan’s eyes deepen with pain when he thought about serious offenders? It was more than just normal human interest. It was personal.

  “Ah, good, Catherine told me you’d arrived.” Damian Manchester entered Ethan’s office, his pewter gaze drifting over her face, searching for evidence of harm. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  “Safe and sound,” she assured him. “Thanks to Ethan.”

  “Yes, I heard about the reporter who followed you.” He turned to Ethan. “Good work getting rid of him. I’m glad it wasn’t more serious.”

  “Did you talk to your contact at Channel Ten?” Ethan asked.

  Damian nodded. “They’ll keep things quiet, provided their team gets a front-row seat at the university president’s press conference tomorrow. We’re definitely not going to be able to keep this quiet anymore. Now that they’ve seen Maggie at the crime scene, and once they connect the dots to the strange caller she’s had on her show recently, they’ll be swarming like gnats.”

  “It had to happen sooner or later,” she said with a sigh.

  “Did you call your parents?”

  Guilt jabbed at her. “Not yet. I will, though.”

  “They need to know, especially if reporters are on to the story.” He laid a supportive hand on her arm, squeezed gently and let it fall before turning toward the hallway. “The others are already waiting in the conference room.”

  This time, at least half of the dozen seats around the large conference table were occupied by SSAM team members and Noah and Maria. An unsmiling Becca sat across the room, doodling something on a sheet of paper and studiously avoiding Ethan’s gaze. Damian sat at the head of the table, next to a man who had to be the president of Chicago Great Lakes University. His cut-off-your-air necktie and old suit were too careful a mix of stuffy upper management and rumpled academic to be anything else.

  Maggie took the empty chair next to the man, with Lorena on her other side. She was much too far away from Ethan for his liking. Still, it gave him the opportunity to observe her from a distance. She’d tied her hair into a loose twist at the back of her head, leaving a few soft wisps springing free, catching the light and reflecting gold and fiery red. It mirrored her personality—all that restrained fire and passion.

  But from several seats away, he couldn’t smell her skin. He was fairly certain his house, particularly his couch after her nap there, would smell of her light, tantalizing scent. Something floral. Sunflowers? Maybe. He had no clue how he would even know what sunflowers smelled like, but they brought to mind all things golden and warm and bright. Like Maggie. Yeah, sunflowers probably smelled like Maggie Levine.

  Damian cleared his throat and all attention immediately turned to him. “I’d like to introduce the President of CGLU, Mark Bellingham.” Damian motioned to the man beside him. “He is, of course, as concerned as the rest of us about what’s been happening to Maggie, and we need to decide on the best course of action for her and for the university following Fearmonger’s actions.”

  Ethan knew the best course of action. His hands tightening slowly around the monster’s neck.

  “You might want to let up, man,” Noah leaned toward Ethan to whisper. In response to his glare, Noah looked pointedly at Ethan’s fist, which was clenched so tightly around his pen, his knuckles were white. “If you don’t, we’ll have ink everywhere. I, for one, don’t want to ruin my suit.”

  Ethan forced himself to loosen his grip. He wasn’t normally that open with his emotions. The Secret Service had taught him how to be stoic and unobtrusive. How to be nothing more than a shadow. Apparently, he was sliding even further away from his training than he’d thought.

  President Bellingham took Damian’s lead. “I appreciate what you all are doing to find the murderer. I’m grateful that you’re taking care of Dr. Levine, as well.” He paused. “However, it is my job to do what’s in the best interest of the university and its students. That has to be my number one priority. After discussing options with Damian, I’m planning a news conference tomorrow morning at the university.”

  “And what, exactly, are you planning to say?” Maria asked. “You’ll have to run it by us, too. This is, technically, still our investigation.”

  “I just talked to the police commissioner,” Damian explained. “He’ll be speaking with you about it after this meeting. Dr. Bellingham’s only going to give the basics—that a young woman, a student, was found murdered in a classroom over the holiday break. And that the authorities are doing everything they can to track him down.”

  Bellingham interrupted. “I’m hoping open honesty will help calm some of the parents’ and students’ fears. I don’t want a panic on our hands, and if they find out this may be a serial killer at work, well, I’m afraid that’s exactly what will happen.”

  “Is a serial killer,” Lorena corrected. “I don’t have any doubt.”

  “Could be a copycat,” Maria pointed out. “We can’t rule that out. Besides, aren’t there enough differences between the murders a decade ago and Sharon Moss that it could be two different killers? The previous murder victims, for instance, still had their noses.”

  Ethan caught Maggie’s wince.

  “A trophy?” Noah asked. Becca’s eyes widened at that suggestion.

  “Or part of the torture,” Maria suggested. “Maybe a statement about her sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong?”

  “They haven’t found the nose,” Lorena countered. “That’s more consistent with keeping a memento of the kill. Are we sure he didn’t keep anything from the previous victims?”

  Now Maggie looked downright pale. Sharon had been a friend of hers, and these people were talking about her as if she were just some nameless victim. Just as Ethan was about to suggest the profiler and detectives adjourn to another room to discuss the fascinating subject of dismembered body parts, Damian spoke up.

  “Continue to work the profile tonight,” Damian told Lorena, turning back to the table at large and changing the subject, saving Maggie from the more horrific details. “In the meantime, we’ll pursue this as if it is the same serial killer. Noah and Maria have agreed to keep
us in the Chicago PD loop, as long as we return the favor—which, of course, we will. Open communication between the Society and the police will only help us catch this guy quicker.”

  “I guess that’s my cue,” Noah said at a nod from Damian. “Preliminary findings at the CGLU crime scene yielded no fingerprints. None. Not on the flat surfaces, not in the blood.”

  “What little blood there was,” Maria interrupted. “There was some blood at the scene, but there’s a lot of blood missing. He had to have known how to drain and collect it.”

  “A funeral director, maybe?” Lorena asked, her sculpted brows coming together.

  “It’s on our list. But he also had to be wearing gloves.”

  “Fibers?”

  “Nothing yet, but both our criminalists and yours are still looking through the evidence collected. Fearmonger was very cautious, so they don’t think they’ll find much.” Maria’s mouth turned downward in a frown of frustration.

  “Time of death?” Lorena asked.

  “Time of death coincides with the time Dr. Levine received the call from the killer.”

  “Have they given any details about body positioning, tools used, things like that?” Damian asked. “It would be helpful in determining for certain whether we’re dealing with a copycat or the original killer.”

  “As to that,” Lorena added, looking down the table to Noah and Maria, “if you can let us know what facts of the Fearmonger murders ten years ago were actually given or leaked to the press and public, we can see if this guy is a copycat or the real deal.”

  “Of course.” Noah made a note on the pad of paper in front of him. “We’re reviewing the Fearmonger files now. We’re also investigating Sharon Moss, trying to determine how he got her to the psychology building. It’s on our to-do list.”

  “You haven’t had much time,” Maggie said, sympathy in her voice.

  “The first forty-eight hours after a murder are critical,” Damian said, his tone unforgiving. “Many traces of evidence are lost in that time period. Be assured,” he said, turning to Bellingham, “that the crime scene was processed as thoroughly and carefully as possible. I only employ the best.”

  “So what I want to know,” Maggie said, flushing slightly as all attention turned to her, “is where has this guy, if he is Fearmonger, been for the past ten years? Why would he suddenly start killing again now? Or has he been killing all along and we didn’t know it?”

  Lorena nodded, her approval clear in her eyes. “Good questions, and ones I’m looking into. I’m contacting some of my old FBI colleagues to see if there are any other unsolved murders with similar attributes. The killer’s fingerprint, so to speak.”

  Like fear written all over a wall in bright red blood, Ethan thought. Jesus, he couldn’t let Maggie go back to her place with this psycho out there. He’d been at the scene in her psychology classroom. She hadn’t. But he had no doubt she’d recognized Sharon’s murder for what it was—a symbol that Fearmonger was getting closer to her. “Murdering” her vicariously. Trying to scare her as much as possible before he performed the final act.

  “Something wrong?” his employer asked, his eyebrows arched in question.

  “No, sir,” Ethan replied, gritting his teeth. “Just wondering where I fit in here. I assume you still want Maggie protected.”

  Damian nodded. “Until this perpetrator is caught. You and Becca are still on that. In fact, I want Becca to stay at Maggie’s at night. And I’ll have someone from communications put a tap on her phone, in case he calls again.”

  Ethan’s reply was a curt nod, though he wanted to object. He wouldn’t put Becca through that in front of everyone, however, no matter what his doubts about her experience were. He’d just speak with her privately.

  “You won’t even know I’m there,” Becca told Maggie with a smile, which was returned.

  “Well, not quite,” Damian interrupted, glancing at Bellingham. “Mark has agreed to let you go undercover as a student in Maggie’s classroom.”

  “Sweet.” Becca had apparently recovered her good humor as Damian heaped responsibility on her. “Psych 101. Always wanted to take that.”

  “We were going to move the class to another room,” Damian continued, “but we thought perhaps the killer would return to the scene.”

  Ethan sat forward. “So you’re going to set Maggie up as bait? Not on my watch.”

  “I’ll never be completely safe until they catch this guy,” Maggie said softly, the gentle look in her eyes calming him.

  Man, she must be some therapist, if she could connect with people with just a look. And one stalker had killed her trust in mankind. Now another could kill her. Not to mention what she’d been through when, at such a young and impressionable age, her best friend was murdered. She could have come out so differently. She could have curled into a ball in the corner of a padded room for the rest of her life.

  And yet she held it together.

  But even as he thought that, one of her trembling hands moved to her breastbone and absently rubbed. His eyes narrowed. He’d seen that before. But her words drew his attention away.

  “I’ll agree to anything to catch this guy before someone else dies.”

  “And Becca will be there,” Noah pointed out, “and we’ll have an extra Chicago PD officer patrolling campus whenever Dr. Levine’s scheduled to have class.”

  “Well, I feel so much better now,” Ethan muttered. He blew out a breath. “Okay,” he said, knowing he wouldn’t win this argument, “but there’s no way in hell she’s going to the press conference.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened. “Was that an option?”

  “No way. In hell. Not under my supervision.”

  “We already decided the press conference was too risky,” Damian said. “But sometimes serial killers return to the scene of the crime, or to the victim’s grave. Which is why we decided to leave Maggie’s class in that classroom. We have technicians working through the night to get it back in order.”

  “That’ll piss him off,” Maggie said. “Erasing his lesson and carrying on as if it wasn’t important.” Just like she’d done at her house, scrubbing her living room walls. Had she done it to piss off Fearmonger?

  “Which is exactly my point,” Ethan ground out. “You’ll be in more danger if he becomes enraged.”

  “He’s already escalating in his behavior,” Lorena pointed out. “Dr. Levine’s already in danger.”

  “And maybe he’ll mess up.” Damian’s cool, steel-gray eyes met Ethan’s narrowed ones. “I won’t take any unnecessary risks with Maggie’s welfare.”

  “What about the radio station?” Becca asked, raising her hand.

  Damian smiled at her naïve gesture, which served to break the tension that was building. “It’s an open forum, Becca, feel free to speak up whenever. And as for the radio station, you’ll be following her there, too. But Marconi has canceled tonight’s broadcast. They’re going to replay a tape of an old show.”

  Lorena nodded her approval. “With this guy’s increased activity of late, especially if he is Fearmonger and has had a ten-year hiatus, I’m almost positive he’ll contact you again, Maggie. Soon. And if we take you off the air for a night, he’ll be chomping at the bit to contact you next time he has the opportunity.”

  “I’ll be prepared.” Maggie’s chin tipped slightly upward in defiance.

  “As will I,” Becca added from across the table.

  “First,” Damian told Becca, “I called ahead to the state mental health center where Deborah Frame is being held. I want you to pay them a visit and see what you can find. Ethan will stay with Maggie until you get back.”

  “Ethan,” Damian said, finally focusing on him. “Turns out a couple of parking lot cameras were working. You and Maggie will review the security tapes. See if you come across anybody she recognizes or anything out of the ordinary.”

  Hours of tedious work, yet somehow he was looking forward to it. He would be spending time alone with Maggie.
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br />   Looking for her stalker, a voice reminded him. How romantic.

  As the group scattered to their various assignments, Maggie retraced her steps to Ethan’s office in search of some privacy. Having seen him occupied with Becca in the conference room, she figured he wouldn’t mind if she borrowed it for a short time. Thankfully, he’d left the door unlocked.

  Fiddling with her cell phone, she flopped it from one hand to the other as she tried to dream up what she could possibly say to allay her parents’ fears.

  Hey, Mom. I don’t want you to worry, but you know that break-in at my house? Well, it seems I’ve picked up another one of those pesky stalkers. Oh, and it may be on the news tomorrow morning. They’re not entirely sure, though, that he’s a serial killer. Well, he’s killed one woman, and he may have killed several others, but there’s no reason to jump to conclusions.

  Yeah, like that was going to go over smooth as buttercream icing.

  Before she could delay any longer, she dialed their number and chewed her bottom lip.

  “It’s about time you checked in,” her mother’s voice said upon connection. Had she already heard?

  “What?”

  Her mother laughed, the warm sound soothing some of the tension of the day. Oh, how Maggie had missed seeing them, and speaking to them, more regularly.

  “Now don’t be mad,” Nancy Levine said, “but Agatha told me she saw a man at your house early this morning. I believe her description of him was ‘a handsome devil.’ And you still owe me an explanation of the break-in. Your dad and I are about ready to drive down to the city to check on you. We’d already talked about dropping in on July Fourth, anyway, because, well…” Her mother’s voice trailed off.