The Girl Next Door. Cynthia Eden

the moment.

      “We need to get home,” he said in that deep rumble of his. “Come on, my bike’s waiting.”

      Her phone vibrated, jerking in her pocket. She’d turned the ringer off before her little stint of B&E. “Hold on,” Gabrielle told him. She yanked out her phone and recognized her boss’s number at the Inquisitor.

      “Gabrielle...” Cooper gritted out.

      “It’s my boss. Calling after midnight. I have to take this.” Because there was only one reason Hugh Peters would call her this late.

      A story.

      “What is it, Hugh?”

      “I just heard on the police scanner...” Excitement thickened his voice. “They got another vic. A female. Same MO as Archer.”

      Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Where.”

      He rattled off the address.

      The address was close, just a few blocks away. She could jog there.

      She would jog there.

      “You get there and you find out what the hell is happening, got it?” Hugh said. Before she could answer, he continued, “Three kills? This mess is starting to look like the work of a serial.”

      His words chilled her. “We can’t know that, not yet.”

      Cooper’s gaze was on her.

      “Get there and find out,” Hugh ordered.

      She shoved the phone back into her pocket. “Thanks for the offer of the ride, but my night’s not over yet.”

      No wonder the cop had rushed away. She tilted her head and heard the wail of sirens in the distance.

      Cooper stiffened. “What’s happened?”

      “Another woman has been found with her throat cut.” She spun away from him. It was a good thing she jogged regularly. “I’ll see you later, Cooper. Thanks for the help!”

      He grabbed her wrist. “You’re racing to a murder scene?”

      “It’s what I do.” He was slowing her down.

      Cooper shook his head. “Going on foot isn’t the way. I can get you there faster.” He pointed to his waiting motorcycle. “Just give me the address, and I’m there.”

      She didn’t want to waste time arguing. She called out the address even as she climbed onto the bike. Seconds later they were racing away.

      * * *

      “IT LOOKS LIKE the same MO,” Cooper said into his phone. He’d backed away from the crowd, found the best cover of shadows, and now he watched the chaotic scene with a careful gaze. “One of the cops said that the victim was a woman named Melanie Farrell.”

      “She’s not one of ours,” the clipped voice on the other end of the line responded. That voice belonged to Bruce Mercer. Cooper’s boss. A man who knew where every single secret was buried in D.C.

      Mostly because his job was to bury those secrets.

      “You sure about that?” Cooper pressed. “She was found in her apartment, with the doors locked. Her throat was slit, and there were no signs of a struggle.”

      A low whistle. “You sure learned a lot on this one, fast.”

      His gaze tracked over to Gabrielle. She was currently talking quickly to a uniformed cop. The cop looked nervous. Since Gabrielle was grilling him, the guy should be nervous. “I had a little help.” She’d been the one to get all of those details.

      “The reporter.” A long sigh slipped from Mercer. “I thought you had her contained.”

      Containing Gabrielle was a bit of a challenge. It was a good thing that he liked challenges. “I can use her. The cops tell her more in a few minutes than they would ever reveal to me.” He had the P.I. cover for a reason, but Gabrielle’s resources were proving to be far more useful.

      Gabrielle eased away from the cop and gazed up at the building.

      Trying to find a way inside, aren’t you?

      She edged toward the left, moving near the alley that he knew snaked behind those apartments.

      “Melanie Farrell is not one of our agents.” Mercer was adamant. “She shouldn’t be targeted by our rogue.”

      The rogue—the EOD agent that Cooper was hunting.

      “Kylie Archer wasn’t an agent, either,” Cooper said, going with his gut.

      “Who?”

      “She was killed a few months ago. Again, same damn MO.”

      “Our guy has been busy.” Anger heated Mercer’s words.

      Our guy. Because they did think it was one of their own. One who’d tried to attack Mercer by going after his daughter and now...

      “I found out that Kylie was romantically involved with Keith.” Well, Gabrielle had found that out.

      He couldn’t see her now. Cooper’s body tensed.

      “The guy tried to get at you by taking away the one person who mattered,” Cooper said.

      Mercer’s daughter.

      “He couldn’t get her, so maybe he decided to attack other agents by going after the people they valued.” It was a theory that he was just developing, but so far, the pieces fit.

      “That idea only plays,” Mercer said slowly, “if we can link Melanie to an EOD agent.”

      “Sydney can find a link.” If anyone could, it would be here. Sydney Sloan Ortez was in charge of information retrieval for the EOD. When it came to computers, no one was better. She could dig into any person’s life with her machines. Could, and had.

      “I’ll get her started,” Mercer promised. “In the meantime, you keep tracking this rogue. He knows our agents, he knows us, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to get away with these attacks on my watch.”

      Mercer hung up. Cooper pushed the phone into his back pocket. Gabrielle had slipped into the alley, and she’d never glanced back to see if anyone was watching her.

      She should learn to pay attention to what—who—was behind her.

      He’d sure gotten the drop on her easily enough in that apartment. If he had been the killer, she would have died.

      His back teeth ground together as he stalked toward the alley. He’d had no idea that his neighbor was so drawn to danger.

      Just like me. But he knew why he liked the thrill that came from danger. That burst of adrenaline made him feel alive.

      What drew Gabrielle into the darkness?

      * * *

      THE FIRE ESCAPE led all the way up the side of the building. Gabrielle studied that fire escape, considering the options. It would sure be easy enough for the killer to slide through a window in the victim’s apartment then flee down the fire escape.

      Was that why the front door was locked? Did you get out this way?

      She slipped deeper into the alley. The voices were muted here. Her shoe brushed over a discarded aluminum can. The acrid odor of rotten garbage was strong in that alley.

      Gabrielle glanced to the left. A green garbage container sat to the side. The alley snaked away a bit then opened to another street.

      Since there were no lights in that area, it would have been easy enough for the killer to hide down there.

      “You’re in the wrong place.”

      The whisper drifted to her. When the words sank in, Gabrielle froze.

      “You shouldn’t be here, all alone...”

      She