Survive the Night. Vicki Hinze

enough for her to know not to expect any cooperation much less any favors. That was her fault. Too often, she pushed the line. She never crossed it, but she straddled it whenever the situation warranted. The police didn’t much appreciate that. If she stood on their side of the fence, she wouldn’t appreciate it, either.

      “We can have a comparison done on the two notes—you still have the first one, right?”

      “Oh, yeah.”

      “Did he sign it the same way as this one—D.B.D.?”

      “No, he didn’t.” Della hedged. Paul wouldn’t like this. “But I think it’s the same person.”

      “Why?” He lifted a finger. “No, wait. Let me save us some time and ask the right question. How did he sign the first note?”

      She forced herself to meet Paul’s gaze. “Dead by Dawn.”

      * * *

      Paul pulled out his phone and started to key in a number.

      “Stop,” Della insisted, covering his phone with her hand. “Who are you calling?”

      “We need help, Della.” Paul frowned but didn’t touch the keys. “If we can’t prove this incident is case-connected and you can’t draw a connection from Dawson to you, then we’re dealing with an unknown. We need access and resources—and more eyes to keep you safe.”

      “I know you’re not calling the Office of Special Investigations.”

      In situations where ex-intelligence officers were under threat, that was the protocol, but they’d checked that box, if only unofficially, by his calling Beech. The last thing Della needed was the OSI digging into this. They would proceed as if she’d done something military-related that she shouldn’t have done, until it was proven otherwise. They both knew the drill. They’d worked it, and they understood the necessity for it, but it could put Della in a bad position with the military and hamper her in finding the stalker.

      Paul stared at her through the shadowy light cast from the front porch. “We should call them, the local police and the FBI.”

      Yes, former military members embedded in intelligence positions with their level of clearances were required to report all threats of any kind to the OSI, not to civilian authorities. But he had said all of them—OSI, local and FBI. She had to be wondering why.

      “I don’t understand the FBI.” She kept her hand on his phone. “But please don’t do that to me.”

      “You don’t understand—”

      “I understand plenty.” Heat crept into her voice. “The OSI has been watching me like a hawk since I got the news about Danny’s death. You know I was a mess. Depression, grief—all that. I worked Intel, Paul. I know too much about too many things, and you know they don’t trust anyone who knows anything and is emotionally stressed. You call them, and the first thing they’re going to do is declare me a security risk. They’ll get my Class-C license revoked. Without it, I can’t do my job as an investigator, not to mention my carry permit. That happens, and if this stalker does try to kill me, I won’t even be able to defend myself.”

      “Della, listen to me. Just listen, okay?” Paul paused, clearly hoping she would. “You know my training. You also know my sister.”

      “What’s Maggie got to do with this?”

      “I’ve protected her since we were kids. I’ve had to. But something happened last year that proved beyond any doubt, when you’re dealing with monsters capable of this kind of evil, one man’s protection isn’t enough. We need help.”

      Tension crackled off her like hot live wires. “We’re not going to any of them,” she insisted, then fell silent.

      “All right. You’ve got a point. The OSI would consider you a security risk, and probably would work to yank your license and carry permit until you proved you weren’t. But the blood on that knife tested human. Whose blood is it? And this stalker was in your home. He isn’t some amateur. He’s a serious stalker who could be anybody.”

      “It has to be Dawson. He used the same words in the note.”

      “Dawson is a mental patient. He could have told anyone, dozens already know it, and this stalker could be a copycat or someone who’s read about Dawson in the paper.” Paul winced. At the moment, he would give everything he had—his money, his ranch, even his horses and his beloved rottweiler, Jake—to not have to dispute her. “The fact is, we don’t yet know the stalker’s identity. This incident could be unrelated to Dawson. It could be related to me. I make a lot of enemies at Vet Net. It could be someone trying to get to me through you.”

      “Doubtful. You help people reintegrate into civilian life after their military service, rebuild their families and find jobs. Okay, so some get irritated because you’re persistent, pushing for veteran’s rights, but they’re not the kind of people to inflict physical harm.”

      “Not always true.” He let her see his worry. “You remember the Gary Crawford case?”

      “The notorious serial killer. Sure, everyone not living under a rock knows about him.”

      “Maggie was nearly his victim. The Utah incident last year—that was him, and he got away. It’s possible he’s your stalker.”

      “Why would he come after me?”

      “Because you’re important to me.” Paul clasped her hand. “Della, we can’t discount him. He left notes with his victims that he signed Baby Killer.”

      * * *

      Shock pumped through Della’s body. “Maggie was profiling Gary Crawford’s case?” She’d been an FBI agent, but she wasn’t anymore.

      “Yes.”

      “But she’s an artist now.” With her off the case he had no reason to hunt down Maggie, much less her brother, and even less reason to come after her brother’s friend. “No, it’s Dawson. He assaulted me. He bombed my mailbox and killed...”

      Paul spared her having to say her son’s name. “Are you a hundred percent positive that you weren’t Leo Dawson’s intended victim?”

      She lifted her hands. “I’d been in Afghanistan for months.”

      “Did he know that?”

      Della opened her mouth to answer but stopped short. Had he known? After a stream of home invasions, robberies and property thefts, the military kept specific deployment dates and names quiet to avoid making victims of those left at home. They even ordered soldiers to have their addresses removed from phone books. Dawson could have assumed the assault had kept her from being deployed. He could have believed she was at home and she would open the mailbox. “I don’t know.”

      “So you could have been the intended victim?”

      “Maybe.” It actually made more sense. Why would someone bomb a mailbox claiming to be protecting a child or use the “baby killer” slur to harm a child? More guilt layered on inside her. Dawson must have thought she was at home and she would be his victim. Oh, Danny. Mommy is so sorry. She crossed her chest with her arms to hold in the hurt. “Dawson likely did mean to kill me—” her voice cracked “—and my poor baby just got in the way.”

      Paul clasped her shoulder. “I don’t know, Della. All I’m saying is that we both have enemies. Everyone in North Bay considers us a couple no matter how many times we tell them we’re not, so we shouldn’t just assume Dawson is your stalker. The reason for this could be tied to me.” The expression on Paul’s face sobered. “I hope not. But it’s possible, and the FBI or the local police could know something we don’t.”

      What Paul hadn’t said was as significant as what he had. “You didn’t notify the OSI then—when you and Maggie were attacked?”

      “Maggie was the target. I was collateral damage, so no. There was no