Twilight Warrior. Aimee Thurlo

it wasn’t just because of the marks on the ground. What tipped you off?”

      “It was a combination of things. The drag marks played a part, but it was also the reflection in the distance. I knew we were being watched by someone wearing glasses or using optics—binoculars or a rifle scope. It was like that in Afghanistan. IEDs were everywhere,” he said. “Most of the time they were triggered by someone keeping watch, waiting for just the right moment.”

      Travis reached for the phone he normally kept on his belt, then realized he hadn’t brought it with him. “I need to use your phone to call this in.”

      After making the call, he focused on what was left of Laura’s rental. The engine compartment was still burning, but the flames had died down. Beyond the fire wall, the driver’s seat was shredded and smoking with a foul stench. The roof had been peeled back like a half-opened can of Spam. The backseat was blackened and peppered with shrapnel.

      “Normally I’m aware of everything around me, but this came out of nowhere,” she said, biting her lip, then forcing herself to stop. “He obviously knew where I was going or followed me somehow. But checking for a tail is second nature to me. I don’t know how I could have missed him.”

      “Maybe he didn’t physically tail you. There are plenty of other ways,” he said.

      Going to his truck, Travis studied the caved-in windshield. The driver’s side had sustained the most damage, pummeled by gravel and chunks of metal. With luck, it would still run.

      Travis studied the myriad of jagged holes that covered the driver’s side door. Shrapnel—that killed more marines than bullets. He’d thought he’d seen the last of it when he’d returned stateside.

      He turned to Laura and held her gaze. “You wanted our P.D.’s help tracking the killer? Well, you’ve got it now.”

      “I can be an asset to you. I’ve done a lot of homework on this guy and I can share observations that aren’t in most police reports. From the emails my friend sent me before she died, I have some insight on how he works, too. He’s charismatic, charming and nonthreatening. He insinuates himself into his victim’s life, becomes exactly what she’s always wanted in a man, then kills her.”

      “No photo?”

      “No, she never sent me one. She said she wanted me to see in person first, that there was just something about him. What that told me was that although the guy wasn’t classically handsome, he had presence.”

      They backed away from the site, not wanting to risk contaminating the crime scene in any way. Nearly twenty minutes passed before Travis spotted a dust trail in the distance where the road turned from asphalt to gravel.

      “Here comes the crime-scene team,” Travis said, pointing.

      “Once they secure things here and examine my vehicle for evidence, we’ll go to the station. I’ll have to get rid of the smashed windshield before we travel, but my truck looks operable.”

      “What about Crusher?” she asked, glancing down at the dog, who was also being kept from the scene.

      “He rides in with us. I’ll leave him in the bullpen. Chief Wright likes Crusher—better than he does me, I think.”

      She was glad the dog would go with them. Somehow she didn’t think anyone, including Crusher, would be safe alone here anymore.

      AN HOUR LATER LAURA entered Police Chief Wright’s office. Travis had been instructed to wait outside.

      Laura made her case, answering several questions along the way, then waited for Wright’s response.

      “I know you want in on this, Ms. Perry, and your credentials speak for themselves. I ran a quick check on you and know you specialized in crimes against women back in your days with the Bureau. You broke several high-profile cases. Now you’re with a top agency. But you’re off the clock. This isn’t part of an NSI assignment, right?”

      “I’ve taken a leave of absence.”

      “Which means they refused to let you work the case,” Wright observed shrewdly.

      “I’d have had to have been my own client. But no matter, I never asked.”

      “There’s more to this than you’re telling me,” Wright pressed. “The Arizona victim was an old friend of yours, and you let her killer get away. Now you want to settle a score. Am I right?”

      “No, sir, not in the way you mean,” she answered without hesitation. “What’s at stake goes beyond any personal connection. This guy’s not going to stop killing until he’s caught. What he did this morning is just his way of thumbing his nose at me. He allowed Travis and me to escape that blast. We’re not his targets. His real victims will continue to fit the profile he prefers.”

      “And you’re sure he’s a local?”

      “The fact that two of the three victims came from this area of New Mexico indicates that this is his comfort zone. He’s familiar with the Four Corners. He’ll kill again. To catch him, you’re going to need an edge—someone who knows exactly what you’re dealing with. Let me help—officially. I can be a strong asset to your investigation.”

      “The way I see it, you brought him to Three Rivers and now you want field support so you can cowboy up. Tell me I’m wrong,” Wright said.

      “He didn’t follow me here. He was probably here already. Yet the fact that he knew where I was opens up all kinds of possibilities. This guy has evaded other departments before. I can help you make sure that doesn’t happen here.”

      “And you say you saw him?”

      “The circumstances were in his favor and I wasn’t able to make out his face, but I heard his voice.” She swallowed hard.

      “There was no guilt there just…an absence of humanity.” She took a deep breath. “The man is evil, and he enjoys what he’s doing. To catch him, you’ll have to be able to predict his moves.”

      “What exactly are you proposing?”

      “Since I joined NSI, I’ve been called in as a consultant to help departments all over the Southwest solve cold cases. I’ve continued to specialize in crimes against women and my success rate is second to none. This killer is now focused on me, at least for the moment. Let’s use that to reel him in.”

      “My people have to follow procedure,” Wright said flatly.

      “You went into private investigations to get away from the restrictions of police work. Convince me that you’ll follow our protocols now.”

      “I don’t like playing by the rules, that’s true, but my cases always hold up in court,” she said. “I won’t do anything to jeopardize this case, sir. There’s too much at stake.”

      Laura could see the chief still wasn’t convinced. “You’ve got trouble brewing here. If it turns out that the suspect has been operating right under your nose for months and you’ve failed to use every resource you have to close the case…” She allowed the sentence to trail off and waited.

      Wright regarded her thoughtfully. “I want to check out some things first. Then I’ll make my decision.”

      Laura reached into her wallet and pulled out a card. “That’s my supervisor at NSI. He was the Special-Agent-in-Charge of the D.C. Bureau office for seven years before leaving the FBI. He’s got more commendations than most of us get in a lifetime of service. His name is Charles Westin.”

      “I know who he is.”

      “He’ll vouch for me. My methods aren’t conventional, Chief Wright, but that’s exactly what you’ll need to catch this creep. He’s around here, whether you like it or not, and may even consider Three Rivers his home.”

      “Wait in the bullpen,” Wright snapped. He stepped into the hall and called Travis.

      Travis