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Operation XOXO
Elle James








Tall, blond and incredibly handsome, Paul remained hard to ignore.


“I have a proposition for you,” he said.

Her gaze narrowed on Paul. “What do you mean a proposition?”

“I could stay with you at night until we catch him.”

Elise’s heart fluttered and her hands grew cold and clammy. She hadn’t lived in the same house with a man since she’d left North Dakota. Heck, she hadn’t trusted herself with another man since.

The last time she’d been with Paul, he’d played with her children in the evacuation shelter. She’d been drawn to the sexy federal agent more than she wanted to admit. But that didn’t matter. She couldn’t get involved with anyone, not now or ever.




Elle James

Operation XOXO








This book is dedicated to Texas.

I loved all 20 lovely years I lived there. It’s rugged,

it’s beautiful and it’s full of wonderful cowboys and

heroes just right for Intrigue. God Bless Texas!




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Golden Heart winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, Elle James started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job, raised three wonderful children and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in Information Technology Management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. She loves building exciting stories about heroes, heroines, romance and passion. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink.net or visit her Web site at www.ellejames.com.




CAST OF CHARACTERS


Paul Fletcher—The FBI special agent never met a woman he wanted to protect more than the brave and vulnerable ex-wife of a serial killer.

Elise Johnson—he moved to Texas and changed her name to give herself and her sons a chance to start over without the stigma of being the wife and children of the Dakota Strangler.

Luke & Brandon Johnson—Elise Johnson’s sons are also the sons of a serial killer.

Stan Klaus—The Dakota Strangler supposedly died in a fire and flood two years ago. His body was never found.

Melissa Bradley—The FBI special agent was also involved in the Dakota Strangler case.

Gerri Finch—This cheerleader’s mom is out to get Elise fired for interfering with her daughter’s cheer competition.

Colton West—The police officer assigned to high-school campus duty has access to Elise, and he knew Lauren and Mary. But is he a killer?

George Slater—Luke’s mystery friend lives on the other side of the hedge. Some say he’s crazy. Crazy like a killer?

Trevor Cain—This FBI special agent wanted the job Paul Fletcher got. Now he has to report to the man who stole his promotion.

Caesar Valdez—An angry teenage bully, he’s bent on stirring up trouble in Elise’s high-school classroom.

Alex Mendoza—Elise’s star student and class brainiac sticks up for Elise when the class bully gets rough.

Kendall Laughlin—A teenager in a family of cops, she wants to be an FBI agent when she grows up.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen




Chapter One


“Caesar Valdez, please return to your seat.” Elise Johnson struggled to look calm and keep her voice even. She pushed a hand through her damp hair and sighed. Why was the air conditioner on the fritz again? How could she teach in such stifling heat?

Caesar glared at her and slumped into his assigned seat, grumbling, “I don’t know why we have to study history, anyway. It’s lame. Only losers care about history.”

Elise couldn’t blame the students for being fractious. The temperature in the room had to be nearing the mideighties. Outside the South Texas summer had stretched well into the one hundreds and it was October, for heaven’s sake!

A transplant from North Dakota, Elise suffered in anything above seventy degrees Fahrenheit. She sighed. If she could just make it another few minutes, the day would be done and they could all go home. “Can anyone tell Caesar why we study world history?”

Ashley Finch flicked her straight strawberry-blond hair over her shoulder and looked down her perfect nose at Elise. “Because teachers like to torture teenagers?”

The students laughed.

Elise nodded, already used to the young people posturing in front of their peers. A cheerleader, Ashley liked to be the center of attention and had no trouble speaking up in class; it got her in trouble often. She never knew when to shut up. After several conferences with Ashley’s mother, Elise understood where the girl got her mouth and attitude.

“Thank you, Ashley.” She stared around at the sea of bored faces, each watching the clock on the wall, waiting for the bell to ring and school to end for the day. “Anyone else know of another reason why we might want to study history?”

Alex Mendoza glanced from left to right and inched his hand upward.

As one, the entire class moaned.

Alex was the brainiac of the class. He’d already blown the class curve, earning him the disdain of his less fortunate and less studious classmates.

Elise liked him because he was voracious in his desire to learn and his ability to retain what he’d digested. “Yes, Alex?”

“We study history so that we don’t repeat the mistakes of our past. If we don’t learn from the past, we are destined to do it all over again.” His words started out slow, tentative, and sped up as if he were afraid the class would pummel him with spit wads for being so verbose. “Who wants another Hitler or Hussein?”

Before the class could bombard him with a barrage of answers to his question, the bell rang.

Students grabbed their books and backpacks and scrambled for the door.

Elise straightened her desk and gathered the quiz papers from a previous class. She liked to be home when the boys got off the bus. As a teacher, she had the latitude to be with her young sons when they got out of school. As a single parent, she liked to maintain a certain amount of stability in their lives. They’d been through so much.

Alex Mendoza and Kendall Laughlin were the last to leave, as usual. The two were best friends and partners on the school newspaper. They went everywhere together—joined at the hip, as Elise’s mother would have said before she passed away last year.

Kendall stopped in front of Elise’s desk. “Ms. Johnson, remember if you need me to babysit, all you have to do is let me know. I’m available practically anytime, and you’re just down the street, so I could ride my bike.”

Elise chewed her bottom lip. She hadn’t been out with adults since she’d come to Breuer, Texas, the small traditionally German town on the outskirts of San Antonio. “Thanks, Kendall, I’ll keep you in mind.”

For when she actually met some adults she could hang out with after teaching school all day.

“Alex, don’t let Caesar’s comments get you down. You two will go far because you aren’t afraid or too lazy to learn.”

Alex shrugged. “I wasn’t worried. While I’m at Stanford earning my doctorate, Caesar will still be bagging groceries.”

“Come on, Alex,” Kendall said. “My mom’s waiting to take us to the library so we can dig up more scoop on Jack the Ripper.”

A chill slithered its way down Elise’s spine. “Why are you doing a report on Jack the Ripper?”

“We had to pick someone famous in history, and who wants to do the same ol’ same ol’?” Kendall grinned.

Alex rolled his eyes. “It was her idea. I wanted Albert Einstein.”

Kendall’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm. “There’s something about an unsolved mystery that appeals to me.” She jerked her head toward the door. “Are we going or not? My mom’s probably waiting in the parking lot.”

Alex smiled and scooted out the door after Kendall.

After the kids had cleared the room Elise hurried down the hallway, her footsteps clicking along the tiled floors. She had to stop at the office where she’d drop off parent permission forms for their field trip to Enchanted Rock at the end of next week.

Elise tried to shake the uneasy feeling creeping across her skin. All Alex and Kendall’s talk of Jack the Ripper brought up memories best forgotten.

Students and teachers milled in and out of the office. Elise had to squeeze through to get to the front desk.

“Hi, Elise.” Becky McNabb, the school secretary, looked up from her computer terminal at her desk. “How was class?”

“Challenging,” she answered, her tone flat, her lips twisting into a wry grin.

“I don’t know how you teachers do it.” She glanced back at the computer. “I’d have to shoot myself.”

“They have their moments.” Both good and bad. Elise handed Becky the stack of crumpled papers. “Could you file these?”

“Sure.” She stuck a paper clip on them and laid them on the stack in her in-box. “Hey, don’t forget to check your cubby before you leave. You got mail today.”

Behind the counter a plain white envelope leaned to the side of her box. She retrieved it and stuffed it in her purse for later.

The small town was just what she and her boys had needed. Not much traffic and plenty of room to grow. Most of all, it was a long way from North Dakota. A long way from the past she’d tried her damnedest to erase. She’d changed her name and her sons’ to ensure no one could trace them or know their real identities. The only people who knew where they’d gone were her sister, Brenna, and Brenna’s FBI husband, Nick Tarver—the only people she trusted with her children’s lives.

For the past four months, she and her sons had lived in the small Texas town with no one aware of what had happened in North Dakota.

A long funeral procession wended its way down Main Street, bringing traffic to a complete standstill. Elise glanced at the clock on the dash. She had a good fifteen minutes before Luke and Brandon got off the bus and she was only five minutes from home once the procession made it past. After shifting her metallic gray sedan into Park, she reached into her purse for the envelope, slipped her fingernail beneath the flap and ripped it open. The sharp edge of the flap sliced into her skin and she jerked her hand back.

Damn. She hated paper cuts. She dabbed at the dot of blood oozing from her finger and opened the envelope. Inside she found a single white sheet of paper.

Careful not to bleed on the writing, she unfolded the paper and flattened it. The message was short and it didn’t take Elise long to read the three simple lines.

Dear Alice,

For better or worse, until death do us part.

Let death begin.

Cold consumed her, penetrating straight to her bones.

No. This was a mistake. No one knew her here. No one.

She grabbed the envelope. On the outside written in crisp clean computer print was Elise Johnson. There was no postage, no return address.

Her hands shook so hard, the paper and envelope fluttered from her grip and fell to the seat beside her.

Brenna. I have to call Brenna. She hesitated for a few seconds. Should she? Married now, Brenna was eight months pregnant with her first child. Should Elise call her and upset her?

The words on the note stared up at her, pushing her past any kind of reason. She had to talk to her sister. Brenna would know what to do.

Elise fumbled in her purse for her cell phone and hit the speed-dial button that would connect her with her sister living in Minneapolis.

After four rings, Elise’s teeth were chattering and she almost threw the phone out the window. “Where is she?”

“Al—Elise?” Brenna was still trying to get used to the different name, but her voice sounded so calm over the line.

“Brenna.” Elise Johnson’s fingers trembled as she held the phone to her ear with one hand and snatched up the letter in the other.

“What’s wrong?” Her younger sister had a way of reading her voice, even from over a thousand miles away.

“Brenna. I’m scared.”

“Are the boys okay?” Brenna’s voice, clear and crisp, snapped over the line.

“The boys are f-fine.” Elise sucked in a deep breath and fought back the sob rising in her throat. Fear clenched a hand around her gut and squeezed. “I got a letter today.”

“From whom?”

As the procession of cars crawled by one by one with their headlights on like so many zombies, Elise whispered, “I don’t know.”

“What did it say?”

For several seconds, Elise stared down at the boxy print, her hand shaking so hard, she couldn’t read the words. But then, she didn’t have to. She could recite them word for word without seeing the paper.

“Elise!” At Brenna’s shout, Elise pulled herself together.

She took a deep breath. “The letter said, ‘Dear Alice, For better or for worse, until death do us part. Let death begin.’”

“What the hell does that mean?” A street cop turned detective, Brenna didn’t tone down her words. “And who the hell knows you’re Alice?”

“I don’t know. But I’m so scared I can’t think.” A car honked behind her. Elise jumped and glanced around, realizing the funeral procession had passed and traffic had resumed, except where she held up a dozen cars. “I’m in traffic and I have to go. I’ll call you when I get home.” She wished her sister was in Texas where she could go straight to her.

“Do that. And, Elise, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”

God, she hoped so. This all had to be a big mistake—a really big mistake. The letter was much like the ones Brenna had received in North Dakota when she’d been on the trail of a serial killer.

That serial killer had turned out to be none other than Elise’s husband. He’d very nearly killed Brenna. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat. What woman ever suspected her husband of being a serial killer? Especially a deacon in the church, a man most of the community looked up to and trusted.

They’d told her Stan had died in the fire he’d set in his attempt to kill Brenna. Elise still had nightmares about that time. She’d almost lost her only sister.

Elise had always wondered if Stan really died in that fire.

Memories flowed in like the floodwaters of the Red River that had swept away the burning house with Stan inside two years ago. No body had been recovered, but then he’d been burned and carried away, so what had they expected to find?

Her husband the serial killer was dead.

Elise shifted the car into gear and pulled forward, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to hug her children. She wished she had someone big and strong to hug her.

How could anyone know where she was? How could he have found out her secret? Was it really Stan?

Damn it. Stan Klaus had to be dead.

Elise couldn’t live through all that again.

Then again…maybe that was the plan.



PAUL FLETCHER STEPPED OUT into the bright afternoon sun. The heat radiating off the pavement warmed his air-conditioner-chilled arms. The contrast between the conference room inside and the South Texas heat had to be at least thirty degrees. He might never acclimate if he didn’t get out of the office more often.

He marveled at the number of trucks in the parking lot. Hardly anyone in the urban areas of the East Coast owned pickups. Paul had succumbed to the lure of the four-wheel-drive vehicle within a week of arriving and bought a pewter-gray 4x4 truck, glad he’d passed on shiny black like the SUV parked in the space next to his. It looked good, but in the Texas sunshine, black absorbed more heat, making it blistering hot in the long summers.

Before he stepped off the curb onto the sticky black asphalt, Melissa Bradley’s bright red truck pulled up next to him. Her automatic window slid down. “Get in.”

“Why? I was on my way to the house for a cold beer.”

“Change of plans.”

Paul climbed into the passenger seat, the dream of relaxing by the apartment-complex pool with a beer fading as Melissa pulled onto Interstate 10, headed toward El Paso. “Where are we going?”

“Breuer.” Dressed in jeans and Dingo boots, Melissa had made the transition from the East Coast like she’d been born and raised in Texas. She’d even picked up a little of the local dialect.

“Why Breuer?”

“Remember Alice Klaus?” She glanced at him before returning her attention to the San Antonio afternoon traffic. Slowing, she allowed cars from the access ramp to ease onto the busy interstate, headed to the suburbs after a day at work.

“Alice from the Dakota Strangler case in North Dakota?” An image of a pretty lady with pale blond hair and two cute little boys swam into his head. “The wife of the serial killer Alice?”

“That’s the one.”

“What does she have to do with Breuer?”

“Her sister, Brenna, called a few minutes ago. Apparently, Alice Klaus, now Elise Johnson, settled in Breuer and hired on as a high school history teacher.”

A smile lifted the corners of Paul’s lips. He remembered her, all right. Pretty blonde, killer husband. “She changed her name.” He nodded. “A good thing.”

“Yeah. Only someone’s found her.”

Paul tensed and sucked in his breath. “Found her or killed her?” He’d barely known the woman more than a few days, but he remembered feeling regret. If the circumstances had been different, she was someone he wouldn’t mind getting to know better.

Melissa shot a glance at Paul. “Found. She’s alive.”

Paul let the air out of his lungs and leaned back in his seat for the twenty-minute drive to the hill country outside San Antonio.



WHEN THEY PULLED ONTO Main Street in Breuer, Paul scanned the small town with a critical eye. White limestone buildings intermingled with old, German-style gingerbread houses. People smiled and waved to each other from the sidewalks and children played in their front yards. Paul would bet most residents didn’t even lock their doors at night.

A veritable nightmare if a killer ran loose in their midst.

“Here’s Highland Street.” Melissa turned left onto the street lined with gnarled live oaks whose branches shaded the curbs, giving the impression of a leafy arched bower instead of a city street.

Melisa parked in front of a yellow cottage with a three-foot-tall, white picket fence surrounding the yard, front and back. “How cute. Reminds me of my grandmother’s house in Wisconsin.”

Paul climbed from the passenger side of the truck and pushed through the rickety gate. Before he got halfway to the house, two little boys burst through the front door and raced out into the yard.

“Luke, Brandon! Come back inside right now!” A beautiful woman with long blond hair flung the screen door open and raced out onto the porch, a worried frown creasing her forehead. When she spied Paul, she stopped, her eyes widening. She pressed a hand to her mouth as tears bubbled up and spilled over.

Somewhere in her past life, she had to have been the high school beauty queen. She was so perfect in every way except the tears now pouring down her cheeks.

For a man who avoided crying females like the plague, Paul couldn’t resist moving forward and taking her into his arms. “Shh.” He smoothed her hair and spoke to her in a soothing tone. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“He’s supposed to be dead.” She pushed away to stare up into Paul’s eyes, her jaw clenched, angry light refracting off the tears in her eyes. “He’s supposed to be dead.”




Chapter Two


She clutched his shirt like she was grasping for purchase on the face of a drop-off. She felt like she had fallen over the edge of a cliff, straight into her past.

Just seeing Paul and Melissa made the memories of the nightmare all too vivid. These two talented FBI agents had been in Riverton and assisted in the investigation that ultimately identified the Dakota Strangler as Stan Klaus, Elise’s husband. During the evacuation of the flooded town of Riverton, Paul had been the one to help get her, the boys and her aging mother out of the evacuation center when the press converged on her.

The solid wall of Paul’s chest and the security of his arms triggered all the emotions she’d repressed. All the fear, desperation and disbelief rushed in and threatened to swamp her.

She’d held it together for the boys, but now that help had arrived, sobs rose in her throat and she pressed her mouth to his chest to keep from crying out and scaring the children. She needed to stay strong for the boys and so far she wasn’t doing a good job of it. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs and she huddled in Paul’s arms, wanting to stay hidden from the world.

“Hey, boys,” Melissa said behind her. “Why don’t you show me that swing set I see in your backyard. Think I can swing on it?”

From the corner of her eye she saw Brandon run around Paul’s side and stare up at the man, his eyes narrowed into tight slits. “Did you make my mother cry?”

“No, I didn’t.” Thankfully, Paul shielded Elise from her son’s view.

“Did you hurt her?” the boy demanded, his voice rising.

“No, sir.”

Elise gulped back more tears and tried to collect herself enough to face her oldest son.

Brandon crossed his arms over his little chest. “Let my mother go.”

“It’s okay, Brandon. Paul’s a nice guy,” Elise said into Paul’s damp shirt, her sobs drying and turning into hiccups.

“Let her go.” Brandon stuck his hands between them and attempted to split them apart.

Paul glanced to Melissa for help.

“Let her go!” Brandon’s rage turned to tears when all the pushing he did resulted in nothing. He balled his fists and beat against the backs of Paul’s legs.

Elise pushed away from the warmth of Paul’s arms and squatted next to Brandon, gathering him close. Luke edged in on the hug, his little face creased in a frown to match his brother’s.

Melissa lifted him into her arms. “Come here, little man.”

Elise’s lack of control over her emotions made her sons uneasy. Both boys needed reassurance as much as she did, if not more. She was the adult. Adults must be strong. Then why the hell did she feel like she was falling apart? “It’s okay, Brandon. Paul’s not hurting me.” She scrubbed at the tears on her cheeks and pushed her hair back from her forehead. “I’m okay. I was crying because I was so happy to see Paul and Melissa. Do you remember them?”

In the circle of his mother’s arms, Brandon glared from Paul to Melissa, his gaze returning to Paul as if he expected Paul to make another move on his mother.

Elise had never told Brandon why his father had died in a fire or that he was a bad man. She had told him that he was now the man of the house and it was up to him to help her. He’d taken his responsibilities seriously over the past two years, sometimes forgetting it was okay to be an eight-year-old boy.

Kendall Laughlin pulled up beside the picket fence on her bicycle and braked to a halt. “Hi, Ms. Johnson. Hi, Luke. Yo, Brandon.”

Luke squirmed in Melissa’s arms. “Kenny!” Melissa set the child on his feet and he was off like a shot and through the gate. “I have a bike now. You wanna see?” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the gate.

Kendall laughed and smiled down at the six-year-old. “Let me get off mine first.” She shot a curious look at Elise. “Is everything okay?”

Elise stood, her hand lingering on Brandon’s shoulder. “Yes, Kendall, everything’s okay.” My world is catching up to me and my killer husband might be alive, but everything’s just fine and dandy. She attempted a smile that turned into a grimace. “Kendall, could you do me a big favor?”

“Sure.” She climbed off her bike and rolled it into the yard.

“Could you watch the boys for a few minutes while I talk to…my old friends, Paul and Melissa?” And please don’t ask too many questions. Her students couldn’t know about her past. Her principal couldn’t know or her peaceful life would be shattered. Who wanted the wife of a serial killer teaching children in their school? Elise had never hurt another human in her life. But her husband had killed five people that she knew of.

“I’d love to. Luke and I are old friends already. Aren’t we, buddy?” She ruffled the boy’s hair.

Luke jumped up and down. “Come see my new bike.”

Brandon stuck by Elise’s side, his hand creeping into hers. “I don’t want to play.”

“Go with Kendall. I promise, everything’s okay.” She stared down into her son’s eyes. “As the man of the house, you need to help me keep an eye on your brother.”

His face scrunched into a fierce pout and he glared again at Paul. “Kendall can watch him.”

“She doesn’t know all his hiding places.” She let go of his hand. “You do. So it’s up to you to keep your brother safe and in the yard. Neither one of you is to leave the yard, understand?”

Brandon nodded.

She patted his shoulder instead of bending down to hug him close. He wouldn’t appreciate being treated like a child in front of the other adults. “I need a few minutes to talk to Mr. Fletcher and Ms. Bradley, alone.”

“Come on, Brandon,” Luke called out. “You can show Kenny your new bike, too.” With Kendall’s hand clutched in his, Elise’s youngest son tugged the teen across the yard, grabbed his brother’s hand and headed for the back.

Brandon pulled loose of Luke’s grip and gave his mother one last look as if to say, Are you sure?

Elise nodded, a reassuring smile plastered to her face. “Go on, honey. We’ll be in the house.”

Dragging his feet, Brandon followed Luke and Kendall around the side of the house to the shed where the bicycles were stored.

Paul’s gaze followed the boys. When they were out of sight, he turned to Elise. “Want to show me the note?”

The mention of the note set her heart racing again. If she could she’d have burned it and scattered the ashes to the winds, as if by doing so, her troubles would blow away. “It’s in the house.”

She led the way into the living room, taking no pleasure in all the warm and colorful furnishings that were so different from the Spartan look Stan had preferred. The note had turned her happy and sunny home sinister, a place where evil lurked, waiting to pounce. She crossed to the kitchen and glanced out the window.

Brandon and Luke had their bicycles out of the shed. Kendall smiled and laughed with the boys, admiring their new wheels.

Elise pulled the letter out of her purse and held it out for Paul to see. “I don’t know what to make of it, but I’ll tell you…it has me scared.”

Paul pulled a rubber glove from his hip pocket and stretched it over his large, capable hand before he took the note from her. He turned it over, inspecting the outside of the envelope. “Where did you find it?”

“It was in my mailbox cubby at school today.” Elise spun away and paced across the ceramic kitchen tiles. This was her home, a place where she could make new friends and her boys could grow up unencumbered by their father’s crimes. Fear turned to anger and she marched back across the tile to face the two agents. “Tell me, guys. What really happened to Stan? Did he, or did he not die in that fire?”

Elise’s blue eyes blazed, the anger a welcome change from the defeated and frightened young woman of a moment ago. Paul remembered the shock and disbelief in her face after she’d learned what her husband had done two years ago.

She’d suffered through the stares and whispers of the people she’d sat beside in church for years. They’d shunned her as if she’d been the one to kill those innocent women. They couldn’t understand how her husband could have committed all those crimes with her unaware. Didn’t she live in the same house?

Paul had heard the whispers, the catty remarks and the name-calling. When the reporters descended on her, he’d been there to get her out and relocate her to a private room where she, the boys and her mother remained out of the spotlight. All the while, she’d put up a strong front for Brandon and Luke, shielding them from the ugliness as best she could. They had been too young to understand and hopefully too young to remember.

He stared down at the letter, like so many others he’d seen on the case in Riverton, North Dakota. Had Stan Klaus lived through the fire and flood? They’d never found his body. “We’ll have the letter examined by our lab.”

Melissa pulled out an evidence bag from her back pocket and opened it.

Paul dropped the letter inside. “What did it say?”

Elise inhaled through her mouth, her lip quivering ever so slightly. “‘Dear Alice, for better or for worse, until death do us part. Let death begin.’” She said it in a flat, emotionless tone. When she finished, her body trembled from head to toe.

“Alice? He specifically said ‘Dear Alice’?” Melissa asked.

Elise nodded. She’d put that name behind her, even went so far as to consider her old self as someone who’d died along with Stan. Alice Klaus had been young, naive and stupid. Elise Johnson was savvy, aware and would never harbor a killer in her home. Ever.

“Have you or the boys told anyone your former names?”

“No. The two years we spent in Minneapolis gave us time to adjust to the new names. When we moved here, we started our new lives. No one knows who we are.”

Melissa snorted. “Someone does.”

“Question is who?” Paul held the evidence bag up. “Who would write a note like that and for what purpose?”

“Could be just a scare tactic.” Melissa shrugged. “Who have you made mad since you moved here?”

Scratching through her recent memories, Elise could think of only a couple people she’d angered. “One of my students’ parents, or maybe a student?”

Paul glanced up, his blond brows rising on his tanned forehead. “A student?”

“I have a bully and a talker. I sent the talker to detention for two days straight. Her mother read me the riot act, claiming I was denying her daughter an education, although she gets the same work at the detention center as in the classroom. In fact, she gets more. The only thing she doesn’t get is cheer practice and she’s benched for the next game.”

“Do you think that student could be using your past against you?” Paul asked.

“Ashley?” Elise shook her head. “She’s more interested in her next boyfriend than exacting revenge on a teacher.”

Melissa’s mouth thinned. “You’d be surprised what kids can do.”

Elise pressed her fingers to her temples where a dull ache grew into a steady pounding. “I’d be more afraid of her mother than Ashley. Gerri Finch is a nightmare in heels. Your basic overachieving stage mother.”

Melissa stared across the evidence to Paul. “Wouldn’t hurt to question her.”

“Does that mean you’re taking the case? Or should I have turned this in to the police?”

“Technically, we don’t have a case,” Melissa said. “No one’s been hurt.”

“Yet. That’s the whole idea. I don’t want anyone else hurt by my husband or whoever sent this. I don’t want to be responsible for any more murders.”

Paul lifted one of Elise’s hands. “Elise, your husband murdered those women, not you.”

She pulled her hand from Paul’s grasp, wanting the comfort, but feeling unworthy of it. “I should have seen through those late-night service calls.” She threw her arms in the air. “At the very least, I should have suspected something. Good God, I lived with the man.” The manipulative, verbally abusive, domineering son of a—

“You weren’t the only one who trusted him. He had an entire community snowed.” Melissa moved up beside Paul. “In most cases involving serial killers, the people closest to them never saw it coming.”

Elise rolled her eyes, a shaky laugh erupting from her throat. “Oh, that makes me feel so much better about the women my husband killed.”

“I know it’s not much. But it took us a while to figure him out, as well.” Melissa gave her a crooked smile. “Hell, we were almost too late to save your sis—”

“Mel, let me handle this,” Paul said.

Melissa’s face turned pink and she backed away. “Yeah, maybe you should.”

Elise felt sorry for Melissa having to walk on eggshells around her. Elise didn’t need people feeling sorry for her any more than she wanted their blame for the deaths. After two years, she’d managed to start over and put the horror behind her, only for it to resurface and slap her squarely in the face. Would she ever be free of Stan Klaus?

“Elise.” Paul was talking to her. “For now, we’re going to do some checking without opening a case. The local police would be handling this one if we were to turn it in, which we might do soon if we need their help.”

“I’d rather the locals didn’t know any more than they have to. We have to live here. I can’t keep uprooting my children and moving every time someone recognizes me.”

“Or threatens you and your children?”

Her blood ran cold. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “If my husband is still alive, he’ll come after his sons. I won’t let him have them. I swear I’ll kill the monster first.”



PAUL AND MELISSA RODE BACK to San Antonio in silence. Paul immersed in his memories of North Dakota and the first contact he’d had with Alice Klaus. He remembered thinking how unfair life was to dump this horrific burden on such a nice woman and her kids. He’d gone to the evacuation shelter and played with Brandon and Luke to help her out and give her a break while her hometown flooded and her life fell apart.

She’d been strong then, but now he recognized her behavior as that of a person in shock and denial. The Texas sunshine had done her good, tanning her pale northern skin. She was too young to be widowed and too pretty to live alone. Elise Johnson needed a man around to run interference for her and provide some kind of protection. Either that or a gun.

The sound of little boys shouting in the backyard had grounded Paul in Elise’s reality. A gun in the house wasn’t a good idea, either. Not with curious boys on the loose.

Stan had set fire to the house he supposedly died in. When Paul, Melissa, Nick and Brenna left the house, the river had already flooded the road and the house was a raging inferno. By the time they were able to return, the house had been swept away in the floodwaters. Stan’s vehicle had been found along the banks of the Red River, five miles south of Riverton. Empty.

Had Stan Klaus survived? If so, why had he showed up now? Why not sooner?

Paul turned to Melissa. “Until we get something solid to go on, I want this case kept between you and me.”

“You’re the boss.” Melissa gave him a mock salute. “It really is hard calling you boss.”

“You didn’t have to take this assignment, you know. And if you recall, I tried to talk you out of it.”

“And miss my one and only opportunity to transfer to Texas?” She gunned the accelerator of her cherry-red F150 four-wheel-drive pickup. “I’d take a job with the devil himself just to leave the snow behind.”



AT 7:00 P.M., PAUL ENTERED the Bureau building in San Antonio and headed for his office, Melissa close on his heels.

As they passed Special Agent Trevor Cain’s desk, the agent looked up from his conversation on the telephone. His eyes widened and he smiled up at them. “Muy bien. Adios,” he said into the receiver and hung up. “Hey, Bradley, Fletch. Where’ve you been?” Cain rose from his desk and followed them down the hall.

“Cain.” Paul acknowledged the man with a nod before he entered his office.

“You’re pulling a late night,” Melissa commented, standing in the doorway. “Still working those applicant background investigations?”

“Yeah.” Trevor moved as if to enter, but Mel wasn’t in a hurry to make way. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb, effectively blocking his entrance.

Thank goodness Mel had decided to transfer to San Antonio with Paul. She understood him, could read him like only a close friend could. Paul smothered a grin.

“Your ability to speak Spanish is a plus around here,” Mel commented.

Paul fought impatience. He was ready for the conversation to end and for Cain to disappear so that he could discuss Elise with Mel.

Cain shrugged, his attention focused on Paul. “It comes in handy.”

“Making any headway?” Paul asked.

“Some. There’s just so many, it doesn’t feel like it. I’d rather sink my teeth into something more interesting.”

“We all do our jobs.” Paul refused to be drawn into another discussion about what FBI agents should be doing. He knew Trevor wanted a case more substantial than applicant background checks, but everyone had to do them. Trevor just needed to do his share.

Cain snorted. “We can’t all get the national headliners like you two, huh?” His tone held more of a bite than just another agent joking with his comrades.

“No, we can’t.” Paul glanced at Melissa. “Could you close my door? I have some calls to make.”

“Will do.” Melissa closed the door, luring Trevor away.

Paul owed her for that one. Trevor might be a good agent, but he was too impatient for the next big case. What he seemed to forget was that when they got a big case, it meant people were being either kidnapped or murdered. While Trevor was looking for a thrill, others were just trying to survive or keep someone else from being hurt.

Trevor had a lot to learn about being a good agent. In his new supervisory role, Paul hoped he’d have the patience to teach the man.

For now, he wanted to fish and see if Elise’s note had more guts behind it than just paper and ink.

His first call was to the Kendall County Sheriff’s Department. Now how did he phrase his question in a manner that wouldn’t raise too much suspicion?

“Kendall County Sheriff’s Department.”

Paul identified himself, stating his position with the FBI in the San Antonio field office.

“What can I help you with, Agent Fletcher?” the woman asked.

“Have there been any missing persons reported in the past forty-eight hours, particularly women?”

After a long pause, the woman spoke. “No, sir. Do you want me to notify you if something should come up in that respect?”

“Yes, please.” He gave her his number, hung up and repeated his query at the sheriff’s office for the next county over and got the same response. So far, so good. Maybe there wasn’t anything to the note after all.

His gut told him differently and his gut was rarely wrong.

A light knock sounded at the door and Melissa stuck her head in. “Mind if I join you?”

“Trevor head home?” he countered.

“No, he’s at his desk, slogging through more background checks.” She chuckled. “He’s not at all happy about it, either.”

“He’ll get over it.” Paul tipped his head to the side. “Come in.”

Melissa entered, sinking into the seat across from Paul’s desk. “What are you going to do about the note?”

“I made a few calls to outlying counties. I haven’t called the Bexar County Sheriff or San Antonio Police Department yet. They’re next on my list.”

“What exactly are you asking them?”

“I’m inquiring about missing persons reported in the past forty-eight hours.” He glanced at Melissa. “You got any other ideas?”

“I’ll run the envelope and letter over to Forensics to see if we can lift any prints.”

“Thanks.”

“What do you think? Is it a real threat or a prank?”

Paul tapped a pencil to his desk blotter. “I don’t know. But I have a bad feeling about it. Elise and her kids are on their own. Vulnerable.”

“Why don’t you assign an agent to them?”

“A note isn’t enough to go on. By rights, it should be a local case, not even in FBI jurisdiction.”

“Unless Stan Klaus really is alive and up to his old tricks again.”

The phone on Paul’s desk rang. “Let’s hope not.”

Paul lifted the receiver. “This is Fletcher.”

“Agent Fletcher, this is Rita at the Kendall County Sheriff’s Office. We just had a woman reported missing. Last seen at ten o’clock last night. Normally a missing-persons report isn’t filed until twenty-four hours after the person has supposedly gone missing, but you wanted to know.”




Chapter Three


Elise spent two hours lying in bed that night willing herself to sleep with very little luck. Shortly after midnight, due to sheer exhaustion, she dozed off.

The dream started with her as a teenager during the first flood when her family had evacuated Riverton. Her father, mother and sister were all there, alive and well. The dream transitioned into the flood of two years ago, when the Riverton Police Department and the FBI were hot on the case of a serial killer.

They didn’t know who it was, but she did. She was lying in bed next to her husband in her house in North Dakota. Her husband was the killer, but he didn’t know she knew. Terrified, she lay there, afraid to look at him lest he see in her eyes that she knew. When she worked up the courage and looked at Stan, he was gone.

Afraid for her boys, she leaped out of bed and ran down the longest hallway of her life. She didn’t remember the hall being that long, but the more she ran, the longer it became. When she finally reached the boys’ room and peered in, their beds were empty and floodwaters had seeped through the walls.

She searched through the house, the water rising from her ankles to her knees, dragging at her nightgown, pulling her down. With water up to her waist, she couldn’t find the front door to the house. Where were the boys? They weren’t good swimmers. Had Stan taken them? Would he murder his own sons like he’d murdered those women?

When she finally found the front door, she grabbed the handle beneath the surface of the water and pulled, but the door wouldn’t open. The water kept it from moving and had risen to just below her chin.

“Help!” she cried. “Help me!” No one heard her, no one came. When the water covered her face, the door opened and she poured out into the cold, dark street. The flood had only been in her house. The streets were dry and everyone was gone.

She was completely alone.

Elise knew in her heart it was all a dream, but when the fear and emptiness threatened to choke off her air, she forced herself awake. She was the only one who could stop the nightmare from sucking her into a black abyss of despair. She was the only one who could make the evil go away.

At two o’clock, she woke, her body shaking. The covers had slid to the floor and the air conditioner had done an excellent job of keeping the house cool. Too cool.

A subtle creaking sound reached her from the living room. Was someone in the house or was she going to start imagining that every noise was Stan trying to break into her home?

She slid her feet over the edge of the bed and stepped onto the floor, glad it was dry and not flooding like the house in her dream. Padding quietly down the hallway, she confirmed both boys were still in the house. As if they sensed their mother’s restlessness, they’d tossed off the covers from their matching twin beds. She tucked them in, kissed their foreheads and trudged back to her room.

By four o’clock, Elise gave up her pretense at sleeping, afraid she’d go right back to the same nightmare. Instead, she paced, working through every possible scenario. If the note wasn’t from Stan, who would be sick enough to send it to her? Since it hadn’t gone through the postal system, someone who had access to the school had to have left it there. How many people could she have angered in the past few months? Angry enough to send her threatening notes? One of her students? A parent? The garbage man? Her next-door neighbor? Who? Her head ached and she still hadn’t come up with one viable suspect.



INSTEAD OF LETTING THE BOYS ride the bus that morning, she dropped them off at school. If Stan were alive, he’d want his boys. How could she keep them safe? She couldn’t stay home and lock the doors forever, could she?

Before the boys got out of the car, she warned them that she was the only person allowed to pick them up and they were not to talk to strangers. Ever.

Brandon nodded, his face somber.

Luke bounced out of the car, shouting, “Okay, Mom.”

On her drive to work, she almost wrecked when she saw a man who vaguely resembled Stan. She circled the street, looking for him, but he’d disappeared. By the time she arrived at the school, she swore she’d seen at least a dozen Stan Klaus look-alikes.

This is crazy! How could she live like this, scared of every man with brown hair and brown eyes?

Afraid someone would stop her in the hallway and ask her what was wrong, she ducked into her classroom and hid behind her computer, hoping no one would talk to her before class started. What could she say? I’m not sleeping well because my demented, serial-killer husband is not dead like I thought.

Ten minutes before the bell rang for second period and Elise’s first class, Gerri Finch flounced into the room, a sullen Ashley in tow. “Ms. Johnson, what do you mean by giving my Ashley three tardies in your class?”

At barely eight in the morning, after a sleepless night of worry, Elise was in no mood to put up with Gerri. “Did you ask Ashley?”

“Don’t get flippant with me. I pay your salary out of the god-awful amount of taxes I pay each year. Don’t think I can’t pull the plug on your little vendetta against my little girl.”

Elise would bet Gerri Finch hadn’t worked a day in her life and if she had, she hadn’t paid a dime of taxes. As the general manager of one of the larger auto dealerships in San Antonio, her husband raked in a six-figure salary plus bonuses, enabling him to keep his wife and daughter in the manner to which they’d become accustomed.

“Oh, Mom.” Ashley tugged against her mother’s clawlike grip. “Just leave it.”

“I will not. She’s been out to get you since the first day of school and I won’t have it.” Gerri’s voice rose with each word she said until she was yelling.

“Ms. Finch, my class starts in five minutes. Unless you plan to stay and keep quiet, I suggest you take your complaint to the principal’s office.” To Ashley, she said, “You’ve been late to class five times. The rule says three tardies and you’re in Saturday school. I gave you two freebies.” Elise raised her brows at the girl. “Didn’t I, Ashley?”

Ashley shrugged instead of answering.

Gerri stepped between Ashley and Elise. “If she goes to Saturday school, she’ll miss the cheer competition. She’s captain of the cheerleading squad, for chrissake.”

“Then maybe she should set the example for her peers and get to class on time.” Elise stood and herded the mother and daughter toward the door where students waited to get in. “I’m following the rules, Ms. Finch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the bell is about—”

As Elise opened the classroom door, the earsplitting school bell blared in the hallway.

Teenagers filed in looking no more rested than she felt, but probably possessing a lot more energy.

Elise braced herself for the day ahead, wondering if she’d get a moment to call Paul and Melissa for an update.

Gerri glared at her over the heads of the teens. “I’ll take this matter to the principal. Just you wait. We’re not through yet.”

Oh, goody. One more thing to worry about. As if she didn’t have enough on her mind with a death threat. She stared after Gerri Finch. Could the pushy mother be the one who’d sent her the letter? She certainly had access to the school. She volunteered on occasion and knew every teacher by name.

Elise made a mental note to talk to Paul about Gerri. In the meantime, she had a full day of teaching to get through before she could meet up with the FBI agents later that afternoon.

The day passed much like the others in her teaching job. With the added stress of the note, she fought to be patient with the teens. Every minor thing was a major problem to them. Drama, always drama. The “me” mentality wouldn’t let them see past their own little worlds to the bigger, harsher world outside Breuer, Texas.

On good days, Elise put herself in their shoes and tried to empathize, but today…not a chance. What to wear to the football game on Friday was the last thing she considered important.

How to survive a serial killer ranked just a bit higher on her list.

If the constant chatter wasn’t bad enough, Caesar Valdez was up to his usual tricks, as well, in her last class of the day. Her challenging class, as the seasoned teachers called it. The young man couldn’t sit still to save his life. After Elise had told him to return to his seat for the fourth time, she snapped.

“Caesar, I can’t teach when you’re interrupting the class constantly. Go to the principal’s office. You can spend the rest of the week in the Student Alternative Center.”

Caesar stood, puffed out his chest and said, “No.”

Elise blinked, surprised by his blatant refusal to do as he was told. “What do you mean by no?”

He shrugged, his lip curling into a sneer. “No.”

The bell chose that moment to ring, indicating the end of the longest day of Elise’s life.

While most of the students grabbed their books and raced for the door, Caesar stood his ground.

“That’s fine, Caesar. I’ll inform the principal of your behavior. She can deal with it.”

“Why don’t you deal with it?” He stepped forward until he was only two feet away from her.

Her personal space threatened, Elise refused to back down. “Just because you’re bigger than me, doesn’t mean you can push me around, Caesar. Back off.”

“You heard her, Caesar. Back off.” Kendall dropped her backpack on her desk and stepped up beside Elise.

“That’s right. We’re tired of you pushing people around.” Alex moved to stand on Elise’s other side.

Caesar’s brows rose at the united front. After a quick glance around at the room still full of his peers, Caesar’s glare returned. “You three don’t scare me. You can’t do anything to me.”

“Maybe they can’t, but I can.” Paul Fletcher stepped through the doorway and stood a good six inches taller than Caesar. His muscular chest was developed and solid. Not to mention, Paul was a trained federal agent and he looked like it, from the way he stood to the cold look he directed toward Caesar.

Elise let the breath out that she’d been holding. Glad for the interference, she knew she’d ultimately pay for not dealing with the problem herself. Now that Paul had stepped in, Caesar would find another time to test her and possibly Kendall and Alex. Not good.

Caesar stared at Paul as if weighing his options and then he shrugged. “I got better things to do.” He pushed past Paul and left the room.

“You okay?” Paul looked at her with a concerned frown.

With a half-dozen students still gawking, she squared her shoulders and nodded. “Yes. I’m fine. Just another day in the classroom.” She shot a glance at the teens still standing around, her eyebrows rising. “Don’t you have homes to go to?”

They ducked their heads and scurried out the door, except for Alex and Kendall.

“I can’t believe what Caesar tried to pull. Someone needs to take him down.” Kendall threw back her shoulders as if she’d like to be the one to do it—all five foot two of girl with attitude. “We’ve got enough going on around here without him playing the class jerk.”

Elise grabbed Kendall’s arm. “You be careful around him. He’s got a lot more bulk to him than you, and apparently he’s not afraid to throw it around.”

“He doesn’t scare us,” Alex said, standing as tall as his five-foot-four-inch frame would go. “I’m a black belt in tae kwon do.”

“Yeah, but he has eighty pounds on you,” Elise reminded him.

The teen’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t matter how big you are. What matters is how you use what you have.”

“Yeah,” Kendall added. “I took self-defense, too.” When Alex shot her a surprised look, she blushed. “My dad insisted.” Kendall’s brows rose. “It could happen to anybody. Look at that woman who disappeared last night. She was taken from her home right here in Breuer.”

The blood in Elise’s head rushed to her stomach and she swayed. “A woman disappeared?” She frowned at Kendall. “How did you know?”

“My dad works for the sheriff’s department.” Kendall laughed. “I guess the cop thing runs in the family.”

Elise’s gaze connected with Paul’s. “Did you know about this?”

Paul nodded, wishing he’d taken Melissa’s advice last night and called Elise as soon as he’d heard. “I got word about it last night.”

Elise’s face went from white to red. Instead of blasting him, she turned calmly toward the teens. “Kendall, Alex, did you need me for anything?”

“No, ma’am,” Kendall responded.

Kendall and Alex left Paul and Elise alone in the classroom with the door half-closed.

Paul braced himself.

As soon as the kids were out of earshot, Elise launched her attack. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“We don’t know whether or not the woman’s disappearance had anything to do with the note.” Paul knew his answer wouldn’t be good enough for her. She wanted to be in on every little detail, to stay on top of the threat to herself and her children.

“Still, I want to know what’s going on.” She paced across the classroom and back, only to stop directly in front of him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. How could you? You know what it means to me. You know I’m scared.”

“Exactly. If I’d told you about the woman, you wouldn’t have slept a wink.”

“You think I slept last night?” She dropped her voice to just above a whisper. “I had nightmares about him all night. This morning, I swear I saw Stan in every face on the street. Is he or is he not dead?”

Paul sighed. “We don’t know with absolute certainty.”

“That’s not good enough, damn it.” Her eyes glazed with moisture and she stepped closer. “You don’t know what it’s like to look over your shoulder every second of the day. Or the hell you go through when you let your children out of your sight to go to school. To school, for heaven’s sake.” Her voice cracked and tears spilled over the edges of her eyelids and down her face. “Why didn’t you make sure he was dead then? If he is alive, what have I done to this town? What have I brought with me by moving here?”

“You haven’t brought anything. We don’t know if it’s your husband or someone playing a prank on you. You have to give us time.” He clasped her arms and stared down into her tear-streaked face.

“Time?” She looked up at him through hazy blue eyes. “Does that missing woman have time?”

A noise at the door drew Paul’s attention, saving him from answering truthfully.

Kendall stood there, her eyes wide, her hand hovering, as if to knock. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Her glance darted to Elise and then to the desk where her backpack lay. “I forgot something.”

“Get it,” Elise said through her teeth, turning her back to the girl.

Kendall dove for the backpack and almost made it out the door when Elise swung back.

“Kendall, wait.” She scrubbed her hand over her cheeks and frowned at the teen. “How much of our conversation did you overhear?”

The girl eased around. “Not much.” She didn’t look Elise in the eye when she responded. “I have to go.” She spun toward the door.

“Kendall.” Paul stepped in front of her. “How much did you hear?”

“Nothing I’ll repeat. I swear.” Kendall looked around Paul to Elise. “Alex and I like you, Ms. Johnson. You’re our favorite teacher. We’d never do or say anything that would hurt you.”

Elise stared at her for a long moment. “It’s very important that whatever you think you might have heard doesn’t go outside this room.”

The girl nodded, her eyes wide, scared. “I promise, it won’t.”

“Go home, Kendall.” Elise gave her a crooked smile, but the smile faded and she added, “And lock your doors.”

When the young lady had gone, Elise glanced up at Paul, a worried frown drawing her brows together. “If word gets out about my problem, I’ll be kicked out of this school so fast, I won’t know what hit my backside.”

“I don’t think the kid will rat on you.” Paul stared into her tearstained face. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.” She glanced around the room one last time as if checking for stray students. “My boys will be home soon.”

But she didn’t move yet. “Maybe I should turn in my resignation now and save the school the worry.”

“Don’t borrow trouble, Elise. You’re a good teacher. You have a right to a life.”

“Yeah, so do the rest of the people of Breuer.” She looked up into his eyes, her face pale and pinched. “So did the woman who disappeared.”

What could he say to that? Paul fought the urge to pull Elise into his arms and shield her from all the ugliness the world had to offer.

After Elise slung her handbag over her shoulder, Paul hurried her out of the classroom and off campus.

“We’ll take my truck.” He waved toward a big, dark gray pickup parked in the visitors’ parking area.

“No, I’ll need my car.” When she tried to step around him and go to her car, he snagged her arm.

“That’s what I came here to talk to you about.” He held the passenger door open. “Before the boys get home, I have something to tell you and I don’t want you driving while I tell you.”

“You mean there’s more?” She closed her eyes, her face going dangerously pale.

“Yeah. Get in.” He all but lifted her into the seat and closed the door. When he’d climbed in beside her and had the door safely shut, he turned in his seat. “They found Lauren Pendley this afternoon. She was the missing woman.”

“Oh, God.” Elise pressed her fist to her lips, her blue eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. “Where?”

Paul wished he didn’t have to tell her. This woman had gone through so much already. He hesitated.

Elise laid her fist in her lap and her chin rose. “Just tell me.”

“They found her in the Guadalupe River bound with Ethernet cable.”

“Oh, God, oh, God.” Elise wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth in her seat.

The woman had been strangled, tied with Ethernet cable and dumped, just like the women in the Dakota Strangler case.

“One other disturbing item to note…She went by Lauren, but her first name was Alice.”




Chapter Four


Elise’s eyes burned, tears held in check by the cold wash of fear snaking through her body, stiffening her limbs. “It’s him.”

“We don’t know that, but Mel and I will be working with the local sheriff’s department and city police to find the man responsible.”

“It’s him.” Her voice sounded hollow, even to her own ears. “He didn’t die in the fire.”

“That wasn’t his usual M.O.” Paul shifted into Drive and pulled out of school parking lot, careful not to hit loitering teens waiting for parents to get off work. “Stan didn’t care about first names. He chose smart women.”

True. Her grip on the armrest loosened slightly. She no longer believed in coincidence, not since the Dakota Strangler. She wouldn’t let herself. “But it’s too much of a coincidence. It has to be him.” And if it was him, even the kids at school could be in danger, especially the girls. Elise scrambled for the button to lower the window so that she could shout out a warning to the female students still loitering on school grounds. Her hands shook and the tears filling her eyes made it impossible to see. “How do I open the window?”

Paul brought the truck to a halt. He reached across her lap and laid a hand over her shaking one. “Alice, it’ll be all right.”

She jerked her face toward his, heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks. “Don’t call me that! Alice Klaus is dead as far as I’m concerned. She was stupid and deserved to die along with all the other women her husband killed.”

Paul grabbed her hand and kept her from lowering her window. “No. Alice didn’t die. You’re alive and kicking and living in Texas.”

“No, she’s not.” Her faith in herself had died a little more with each one of the women Stan murdered. How could this man think she was the same woman?

“Alice—Elise.” He turned her to face him. “You’re beautiful and smart enough to realize you aren’t to blame for what happened. Stan, and only Stan, was responsible.”

“How can you say that? I lived with the man. I should have stopped him. Now that maniac is out there. These kids could be in danger. I have to let them know.”

“You can’t, Elise. You’ll have an entire town up in arms and like you said, you’ll lose your job.”

Anger burned in her chest and she wanted to take it out on Paul, but she knew it wasn’t his fault. He’d been nothing but kind to her and her children when her world had shattered. Even back then, she remembered thinking how nice it would have been to be married to a man like Paul—a man who cared enough to protect them from harm.

The steam fizzled out of her and she slumped in her seat, pulling her hand free of his. Paul was a nice man. Stan was nice, too, when Elise married him. But people changed. She’d changed.

She stared out at the lingering teens. She wanted to warn them. Warn everyone that she was the plague. That a killer had followed her all the way to Texas. “It’s not right for me to keep this secret. So many could be at risk.”

“We can’t be certain that Stan did it. We don’t know if you or anyone around you is the real target. This could all be a fluke.”

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head and stared out at the stunted live oak trees, gnarled and twisted by weather. “But you’re right. I can’t leave. I used all my savings to move us to Texas. I don’t have any money left to keep running.”

“You can’t keep running.” Paul spoke in low, steady tones, his voice caressing her with a calm she couldn’t manage on her own.

She breathed in and out, willing her heart rate to slow. But then it cranked up again. “We don’t know where he’ll strike next.”

“If he strikes,” Paul said.

Elise stared out at the clear blue sky, mocking her dark thoughts. How could it be so bright and sunny when a killer stalked the streets? “We can’t let him hurt anyone else.” She sat up straighter, squaring her shoulders. Now wasn’t the time to go soft. She had to be strong. A glance at the clock made her blood race. “I won’t let him take my boys. Can you go a little faster, Agent Fletcher? Their bus will be there in less than five minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A hint of a smile flashed on Paul’s face before he pulled out onto the street, focused on beating the traffic.

For the first couple of minutes, she remained silent, her thoughts churning over her options. She didn’t have the money to gather her belongings and move to another city. Her house wasn’t wired with a security system and she’d used the last of her meager savings to replace the air conditioner, a must in the blazing heat of a South Texas Indian summer. “Do you think the bank would loan me enough money to install a security system?”

“You don’t know until you ask.”

With a sigh, she forced herself to lean back in her seat. “How long does it take to install one?”

“Depends on the contractor.”

Elise snorted softly. “Maybe a gun would be the better investment. More immediate.”

“There’s usually a waiting period to purchase a gun.” He shot a glance at her. “Do you even know how to use one?”

“No.” Her lips twisted. “Actually, they scare me.”

“And you don’t want to risk your boys getting their hands on a loaded gun, and loaded is the only way a gun is of use to you.”

Hopelessness washed over her and she shook her head. “So what you’re telling me is that I’m basically defenseless in my own home.”

“Not quite. I have a proposition for you.”

Her gaze narrowed on Paul. “What do you mean, a proposition?”

He didn’t look at her, but kept his attention on navigating the turn into her driveway. “I could stay with you at night until we catch him.”

Elise’s heart fluttered and her hands grew cold and clammy. She hadn’t lived in the same house with a man since North Dakota. Heck, she hadn’t trusted herself with another man since.

The last time she’d been with Paul, he’d played with her children in the evacuation shelter. She’d been drawn to the sexy federal agent more than she wanted to admit, but chalked it up to vulnerability. Tall, blond and incredibly handsome, Paul remained hard to ignore. But that didn’t matter. She couldn’t get involved with anyone, not now or ever. “No. That’s not possible.”

Her voice quivered and her hands shook as she fumbled for her seat belt, the interior of the truck suddenly too closed in, the air thick with tension. The scent of Paul’s aftershave drifted beneath her defenses, making her think thoughts she hadn’t dared to in a very long time.

Before she could climb down, he was out and holding the door for her. He helped her down and held her arms in his hands. “Please reconsider, Elise.”

The big, yellow bus turned onto Highland Street, its brakes screeching as it came to a halt halfway down the block. The doors opened and a backpack flew off the bus, landing on the pavement. Luke leaped to the ground, laughing.

Brandon clambered down after him, his gaze shooting immediately to where Elise stood in Paul’s arms. His eyes narrowed and he grabbed Luke’s hand, hurrying him home.

“You should go.” Elise could see the storm brewing in Brandon’s eyes.

“Okay, but I’ll be back later.” He stared down into her eyes. “To stay.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Paul climbed into his truck, feeling like he was running away when every instinct told him to stay. He, too, had seen the look on Brandon’s young face. The little guy had been through enough, losing more than a father. Elise wanted to handle her children her own way. He’d give her the space.

For now.

At least until he could get back to the office and have a powwow with Mel. He hadn’t planned on staying with Elise, but he didn’t see any other way to protect her during the dark hours when most people slept.

He slid his cell phone open and speed-dialed the Kendall County Sheriff’s department. “This is Special Agent Fletcher. I’d like to speak to Sheriff Engel.”

He pulled into a church parking lot and waited while the operator made the transfer.

“This is the sheriff. What can I do for you, Agent Fletcher?”

“I’d like to meet with you concerning the woman found murdered.”

“This case isn’t in your jurisdiction, unless you’ve got something to share from the FBI?”

“I understand.” He’d known he’d have to dance around Elise’s connection, but he had to open the lines of communication with the men actually working the case. “We can discuss it in further detail when we meet.”

“How’s nine o’clock in the morning? The Denny’s in Breuer. I’m partial to their chicken-fried steak. Just don’t tell my wife I eat it for breakfast. She’s trying to get me on some danged low-fat diet.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Paul’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. He hadn’t eaten since he’d grabbed a biscuit at the McDonald’s on his way to work that morning. “I’ll be there at nine. Thanks.” He clicked the end button and hit the speed-dial button for Agent Melissa Bradley.

“Hey, Fletcher,” Melissa answered on the first ring. “How did Alice take the news?”

“Elise. She insists we call her Elise. I just left her house.” His grip tightened on the phone. “She’s pretty shaken. Wants to buy a gun.”

“I would be, too.” Mel snorted. “Does she even know how to use one?”

“Not a clue.”

“Almost as scary a thought as a serial killer returned from the dead.”

“I’m not buying that it’s Stan. That house was in flames. If the fire didn’t get him, the smoke would have.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t find the body.” Mel’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “We can’t rule it out.”

“If he’s alive, he had to have been in a hospital for burns or smoke inhalation.”

“I’ll check with all the hospitals in the Riverton area around that time frame.”

“Good. And also check the hospitals farther down along the Red River. If Klaus did live, he could have ended up miles down river.”

“Hey, boss, here’s a chance for you to get to know Cain’s abilities. Want me to get him to help make the calls?”

Paul hesitated. On the one hand, Cain had been itching for a case with more meat. Then again, he still didn’t know how much he could trust Cain to keep his mouth shut. Paul had only been on the job for two months, not long enough to get a good feel for the other man’s capabilities or loyalties. Not to mention, Cain hadn’t been overly pleased with an outsider moving into his territory. “I don’t know what to think about Cain yet.”

“What? He hasn’t warmed up to the ol’ Fletcher charm yet?”

“No, the district coordinator warned me that some of the men had been up for the job I got. I wonder if he was one of them.”

“Sour grapes?”

“Could be. I don’t want him involved until I get a better feel for his work. Especially with Ali—Ms. Johnson’s need for confidentiality.”

“Gotcha. Mum’s the word around Cain.” Mel paused. “You want me to take lead on this one, boss?”

“No, I’ll take lead.”

“Not trying to overstep your authority to decide, but I just want to remind you that you’re the boss now. You’re supposed to delegate duties.”

“Point taken.” He grinned. “I’m still taking the lead.”

Melissa chuckled. “You got it. Do we need to assign protection to her?”

A twinge of guilt pinched his nerves, but he quickly shrugged it aside. “I’ve got that covered.”

“Going to use the local police force?”

Here goes. Explanation time. “No, I’m going to stay with her.” He braced himself for the onslaught of questions.

A long pause stretched from the other end of the line.

Paul heaved a sigh. “Go ahead, I know you’re holding back.”

“You sure you can handle that?” Mel asked. “Last time you were around her, you were pretty taken with her, serial killer husband and all.”

Damn, nothing escaped Mel’s notice. That’s what made her such a good agent. “I’m taken with all the ladies, you know that.”

“No, boss, this was different. You were really taken with her, not your usual love-’em-and-leave-’em style.”

Paul’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Mel hit too close to home with her observation. He had felt something back then. He’d chalked it up to pity for the beautiful bride of the Dakota Strangler. Still, he wanted to be the one to see to Elise’s safety. “I was only doing what anyone would have done to help her through the trauma.”

Mel chuckled. “Yeah, right. Whatever you say, boss. And she’s agreed to this plan?”

Paul’s lips firmed into a straight line. “Not yet. But she will. I’m on my way to the Bexar County coroner’s office.”

“I’ll meet you there as soon as I get those calls started.”

“Good deal.” He slid the phone shut, tossed it into the cup holder and pressed his foot to the accelerator, shooting his truck out onto the narrow streets of Breuer. The coroner’s office in San Antonio only stayed open until five. He’d just make it if he hurried.

As he merged into the interstate traffic, his cell phone vibrated, rattling against the hard plastic cup holder. He risked a glance down at the caller ID.

Cain.

Great. What did he want?

Paul slid the phone open. “Fletcher.”

“Did you hear about the body they found in Breuer?” Cain asked.

“Yes.” Paul held his hand steady, not in any mood to talk with Cain, but unwilling to show his hand. “Are you finished with that stack of background checks?”

“I’ve made some headway. I just wondered if you wanted me to look into the Breuer case.”

“Not yet. It’s a local issue at this point. Until the local officials invite us in, it’s in their ballpark. We have no jurisdiction.”

“Right. But we could offer our services. Up to them to refuse.”

Paul squashed his irritation. The man really was hungry for something interesting. “Not yet. Tell you what, why don’t you get with Alvarez on the government fraud case. I’ll call and let him know you’ll be assisting.”

“I’d rather help out with the Breuer case.”

“Not on your radar, Cain.” So his voice was a little too sharp. Cain was starting to get on his nerves.

“Yes, sir,” Cain answered, his own response prickly.

“We’ll talk in the morning when I get to the office.” Paul could swear he heard muttered curses, but he couldn’t be sure as a tractor-trailer rig chose that moment to roar past him on the interstate.

“Roger.” Cain clicked off.

He’d been giving Cain the benefit of the doubt since he’d arrived in the San Antonio office. But if his attitude toward his new boss didn’t improve soon, Cain would have to be dealt with. Either they’d get their differences out in the open and start over, or Paul would recommend a transfer for Agent Cain.

In the meantime, he had a case to work, even though he wasn’t supposed to be working it.



HE PULLED INTO the coroner’s office five minutes to five. The front door was still open and he slipped inside, quickly making his way to the examination room where he met Gordon Smithson, the county medical examiner.

“Dr. Smithson, I’m Agent Fletcher.” He nodded toward the woman lying on the table. He jammed his hands into his back pockets to keep from touching anything and tried to ignore the scent of decaying bodies and formaldehyde permeating the room. “Is this Alice Lauren Pendley?”

“Agent Fletcher. Glad you made it. I was just finishing up my examination of the body.”

The door opened behind him. Mel entered and closed the distance between them. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, then turned a smile toward the coroner. “Special Agent Bradley.”

Smithson returned her smile, showing more animation than when Paul had introduced himself. Mel had that effect on most men. She was engaging without trying. Someone others automatically wanted to confide in.

“Do we have a cause of death?” she asked, her gaze shifting from Dr. Smithson to the body stretched out on the examination table.

Smithson’s attention reverted to the victim. “Asphyxiation. Most probably someone came at her from behind and hooked an arm around her neck. She put up a fight. See the way her fingernails are broken off? She was found naked with Ethernet cable securing her hands behind her back and tied around her ankles. But she was dead before he bound her.”

“Isn’t that overkill?” Mel said.

Paul cringed at her poor choice of words, but the killer had made his point. He was either Stan Klaus or a copycat. Newspapers around the country had printed stories detailing the Dakota Strangler’s methods. A book on serial killers had an entire chapter dedicated to him. Anyone with a sick mind could copy his methods.

What they shouldn’t have been able to do was find his wife.

Unless one of the children had unintentionally let the secret leak out. Brandon was old enough to remember his real name. Luke had been four when his father disappeared: he probably didn’t even remember the man.

Paul made a mental note to ask Brandon. Not that he expected the boy to open up to him. For some reason, Brandon viewed Paul as a threat to his mother.

Paul had little experience with children, but how hard could it be to get the boy to warm up to him? He’d just turn up the old Fletcher charm, as Mel called it. After he stopped by his apartment and packed an overnight kit.

He wasn’t taking no for an answer from Elise. She needed protection. Whether the killer was Stan or a copycat, he definitely had something in mind for Elise Johnson.




Chapter Five


Elise threw herself into the normal routine of homework with the boys, grading papers and then fixing dinner for her small family. The work should have helped her to calm down after Paul’s revelation and pending return.

But she couldn’t help what her mind kept conjuring. A woman floating in the Guadalupe, her blond hair streaming out beside her, her hands and feet tied in Ethernet cable. Every time the image surfaced, a cool chill she couldn’t attribute to the new air-conditioning shook Elise’s body.

When she finally dropped into her chair at the dinner table to eat the boys’ favorite, mac and cheese, her shoulders were stiff and her appetite nonexistent. She forced a smile, determined to act like normal. “How was your day, Luke?”

Luke gave her a cheesy grin and spoke around the food in his mouth. “I got four stars today for helping clean the classroom.”

“Very good, Luke. I’m sure Mrs. Dobratka was impressed with your thoughtfulness.”

He nodded, stuffing another heaping forkful of orangey macaroni into his mouth, half of it falling back to his plate.

“Smaller bites, big guy.” Elise turned to Brandon. He’d been quiet since he’d gotten off the bus, following her around the small house, if not physically, then with his penetrating gaze. Sometimes she thought he could see more into situations than an eight-year-old should.




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