The smell was the first thing to hit her, invading her nostrils, giving no room for anything else. A smell Francesca knew far too well: the scent of death. It was enough to make her move forward, gun raised to cover any potential danger, trying to find the source of that scent.

  Was she too late, did that smell mean… no she wouldn’t think like that. Not until she had to.

  She wove her way through the pallets, searching while being cautious, not wanting to blunder forward into some kind of trap. There was always a risk that someone might be waiting for her down here, trying to ambush a cop, trying to lure her into danger.

  Francesca was determined not to let that stop her. She was a detective, and she wasn’t going to take a step back just because there was a potential threat there. She had a job to do, and she still hoped that she might be in time to save a life. Francesca pressed forward, more determined than ever.

  The Westford PD got the clue to this location two days ago, a simple letter puzzle. Well, maybe not so simple, because it took one of their administrators all this time to work out. The moment they had, they’d passed the location over to Francesca to check out, and here she was.

  She wished she’d been given the location sooner, been given this case sooner.

  The scent of death in the air said that she should have gotten there sooner. Francesca tried to shake off that thought, focusing on the task at hand. She scanned the room and noticed a door at the far end. It was slightly ajar, and a faint light spilled out from the room beyond. That was her destination. It had to be. Why else would there be light in a place otherwise so utterly dark?

  She moved toward the door, her senses on high alert, her gun at the ready. The closer she got, the louder her heartbeat became in her ears, and the more sweat beaded on her forehead. She was about to find out what was at the end of this investigation. The trouble was, after such a long delay, a part of her already knew.

  When Francesca finally pushed the door open, she gasped at what she saw in spite of how ready she thought she was. There were some things it was impossible to prepare for.

  A woman was there, hanging from a cable. That cable ran to a pulley and winch system, which seemed to have winched the victim up toward the ceiling of the basement little by little.

  Francesca ran forward, her first instinct being to get the woman down. She only stopped herself at the last moment, realizing that she was too late. Far too late. She’d never had a chance. By the time she’d been given the information about this case, this woman would have already been dead.

  The victim was young, in her early twenties, with long dark hair and clear skin. Her eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling. It was a grotesque sight, one that Francesca was sure would haunt her for a long time to come.

  Worse, it was a sight that Francesca already knew, because she’d seen the crime scene photographs from the first scene. There had already been a death like this in the town, and that combination led back to a single, horrific truth, impossible to ignore no matter how much Francesca wanted to:

  They had a serial killer in Westford.

  Francesca’s eyes kept going back to the victim. She couldn’t help but wonder who she was, and how she had ended up here. Was she a local? Was she someone’s daughter or sister or friend? Francesca knew these were questions that needed to be answered, but she also knew that they were questions she wasn’t in a position to answer right now. As for catching whoever had done this… she was an experienced robbery/homicide detective, but this was something different. This was something beyond her usual cases.

  This was a sadistic act that had been performed with precision and care, the kind of thing that only a true psychopath was capable of. Francesca shuddered at the thought of someone like that being in Westford.

  She got out her phone and called the department, waiting for the dispatcher to answer.

  “This is Detective Francesca Angelique. I need backup to my location: uniform to secure a crime scene, forensic teams, and the coroner.” She took a breath before she said the next part, because she didn’t like the fact that she had to say it. She wanted to believe that she could handle this herself, but she also knew that this was too big, that it was spiraling out of control.

  “And put in a call to the FBI. We’re going to need their help with this one.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Amber Young’s eyes narrowed as she worked on the puzzle box, trying to find an answer, moving quickly, not daring to hesitate even for a moment.

  The puzzle box was meant to be almost impossible, but Amber was determined to find the right answers. She wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t slow down. Her fingers moved quickly, shuffling the pieces around, trying to find the right combination. She had always loved puzzles, the way that every piece fit together perfectly to create something beautiful. This box was no exception, and she was going to find a way in. She had to.

  Amber bent her petite frame over the cube as she worked on it, her dark slacks stretching with the movement. She pushed her glasses up high on her button nose. Her blonde braid swung into her field of vision and she flicked it back out of the way so that she could concentrate. She had rolled up the sleeves of her cream sweater to work, determined to get this right.

  She could feel the pressure building up in her, every second that ticked past only making the tension in her muscles feel greater. Amber could feel her fingers fumbling with that tension, slowing her down when she needed to move fast, making it harder to get the pieces of the puzzle to move in the right way.

  There was some comfort in knowing that she’d already gotten part of it right: a series of levers whose pattern seemed to match that of a sine wave. That had lit up a second section, forming a maze that it seemed she had to guide a marker through without touching the lines. Amber was doing her best to achieve that now, her eyes flicking back and forth between the pattern on the box and the marker. It was a delicate process, and she could feel her fingers almost cramping with the effort, but she was determined to get it right. One slip and she would have to go back to the start.

  There was no time for that. No time for anything now except to succeed.

  More seconds were slipping away. Amber was running out of time. The stakes here were high, but she couldn’t let that distract her. She had to focus, to keep her mind sharp and clear. She couldn’t let her attention drift to anything beyond the puzzle, couldn’t think about what it would mean to succeed, or to fail.

  Amber got the marker through the maze and allowed herself a brief breath before moving on to start work on another face of the cube. This was a moving tiles puzzle, reconstructing a design that Amber quickly realized was a copy of the Mappa Mundi, the famous medieval map of the known world. That meant that she had to recall as much as she could of that medieval design, then try to shuffle the tiles, trying to get them to produce the correct design. One false move, one misjudgment about how to move the tiles, and she could lose precious, irreplaceable time on this.

  Amber gritted her teeth and kept going. She knew she was getting closer, that she was making progress, but she also knew that she couldn’t afford to get complacent. The puzzle box was a test, a challenge designed to push her to her limits. Failure wasn’t an option.

  She continued to work on the tiles, moving them around until she had the correct pattern. There was a click, and then the box started to shake.

  It took Amber a few seconds to realize that there was a pattern to the shaking, a second or two longer to understand that the pattern consisted of long and short bursts of vibration. Morse code. It was a trick that might have caught a lot of people out, not understanding what was happening, but Amber could pick out the letters as easily as if she were reading them.

  Amber turned to the next face of the cube, seeing letters there arranged like a computer keyboard. Amber used it to type in the letters that the Morse code was spelling out.

  Open me and see

  There was a click, and Amber felt a sudden sense of triumph as the sides of the cube fell away, revealing an envelope within. Amber tore it open and read what was written on the folded sheet of velum inside.

  What can’t talk, but will reply when spoken to?

  That was almost too easy.

  “An echo!” Amber called out, looking up from the box. “The answer is an echo!”

  Applause erupted all around Amber. To either side of her, the line of the other competitors groaned. Most set down their puzzle boxes. Amber was gratified to see that the majority of them were at least a full face of the cube behind her. Some were barely even halfway.

  Amber looked on in triumph as a few of them kept working, obviously wanting to complete the cube just to see how quickly they could do it. But Amber knew that she had already won this round. She was the best puzzle solver in the room, and she had the proof right in front of her.

  As Amber savored her victory, she couldn’t help but think about what had led her here. She’d always loved puzzles, had practiced them and learned all about them ever since she was a girl. Now, at twenty-six, she’d spent time as the puzzle editor of the Washington News, and she had become an FBI agent.

  Amber knew that she was the one that everyone was watching. She had been the favorite to win this puzzle challenge from the start. That had brought its own kind of pressure with it, and now that she had solved it, she felt a deep sense of relief.

  She looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of the room. It was a large auditorium, filled with dozens of people. Some were competitors, while others were spectators, enthusiasts, there to watch the puzzle competition and see the best take one another on. The air was filled with the sounds of clicking and clacking and shuffling as people worked on their puzzles.

  The MC of the event, a tall, thin man with a microphone, approached her from the side of the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice echoing through the auditorium, “I present to you the winner of the puzzle challenge, and earning an invitation to our national final, Amber Young!” The crowd erupted into more applause, and Amber felt herself blushing with pleasure. It wasn’t just that she’d won, it was that everyone there had seen her win.

  The MC handed her a small trophy, a silver cube with a puzzle piece engraved on one side. “Congratulations,” he said, smiling broadly. “You’ve earned this.”

  Amber smiled back, feeling a sense of pride wash over her. She held the trophy up high, feeling the weight of it in her hand. She knew that this was just a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless.

  That victory was only made sweeter as her boyfriend, Joseph, came out of the crowd, hurrying toward her. He was tall, dark-haired, and handsome, with high cheekbones and dark eyes Amber could easily lose herself in. He was a reporter with the Washington News, and he took several photographs of Amber as she stood there, holding the trophy.

  “Planning another story on me?” Amber asked, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him briefly, swept up in the excitement of the moment. Or at least, it made a good excuse to kiss him.

  “Another victory for our former puzzle editor?” Joseph replied. “Of course I’m planning to write a story.”

  Of course, Amber’s previous “victories” had all been in helping the FBI, using her puzzle-solving skills to catch killers who wouldn’t have been found otherwise. This was a much simpler contest, without the same life or death stakes. Amber wasn’t sure whether that made the pleasure here purer, or whether there was something more real about what she did with the FBI, helping to catch bad guys and save lives.

  Right then there was only the excitement that came from reveling in her victory, knowing that she was better than another group of puzzlers, getting to be the center of attention in a way that she never normally was in other contexts. As a puzzle editor, she had been the one behind the scenes, setting the problems. As an FBI agent, public attention was less important than simply catching the bad guys, doing whatever it took to find killers.

  “How about we get out of here?” Joseph suggested.

  Amber raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I booked us a table for dinner at that new French restaurant you’ve been wanting to try,” Joseph said, grinning. “And maybe afterwards, we can go back to your place and solve some puzzles together.” He leaned in for another kiss, his lips brushing against hers. It was obvious that puzzle solving wasn’t what he had in mind.

  Amber felt a rush of desire stir within her. Joseph always had a way of making her feel wanted, of making her forget everything else. She melted into his embrace, her hands running over his broad shoulders.

  “Lead the way,” she said, smiling.

  Together, they left the auditorium, hand in hand, ready for whatever the evening might bring. Amber knew that there were more puzzles to be solved in her future, some more challenging and dangerous than others. But for now, she was content to enjoy the simple pleasures of victory.

  They drove through DC to the restaurant. Joseph always seemed to have good taste in restaurants, but Amber suspected that was mostly because he asked the News’ food critic where the best places were. Everyone at the News seemed to know Joseph, and to like him, when most of them had always more or less ignored Amber. Maybe it helped that he was such a good-looking guy, and easy to talk to. He was interested in the world, intelligent, and funny.

  In some ways, it made it all the more amazing that Joseph had said yes when Amber had asked him out at the conclusion of her first case with the FBI, when she’d been leaving the News.

  The restaurant was dimly lit, with soft Parisian jazz music playing in the background. Amber felt a sense of relaxation wash over her as she and Joseph were led to their table. The table was set with crisp white linens and shiny silverware. Joseph pulled out her chair for her, and Amber sat down.

  As they perused the menu, Amber couldn’t help but feel lucky to have Joseph in her life. As well as being kind, funny, and intelligent, he had a way of making her feel like the center of his world, like nothing else mattered except for them. As they sipped their wine and ate their food, it was easy to imagine this moment going on forever. It was just that easy to be around Joseph. Amber felt as though she could talk about anything with him.

  “When’s your next puzzle competition?” Joseph asked her as the meal wore on. “Are you going to compete in the nationals?”

  “I’m… not sure,” Amber admitted. “I only took this one because I was invited. Now that I’m a full agent, I have to fit everything around my work, and the nationals would mean traveling to LA.”

  “But Amber, I’ve seen you when you’re solving puzzles,” Joseph said, sounding surprised by that. “It’s when you’re happiest. It’s when you’re most you.”

  Amber had to admit that he had a point. There was something about the thrill of a puzzle, of finding the answer to something that no one else could, that made her feel alive. For a long time, it had been the heart of who she was. But there were also the risks that came with her work, the danger that she and her partner, Simon Phelps, faced on a regular basis.

  “I don’t know, Joseph,” Amber said, shaking her head. “It’s not just about the puzzles anymore. It’s about the people we’re trying to catch, the crimes we’re trying to solve, the people we help.”

  “I know that,” Joseph said, with an earnest expression. “But you can’t let that stop you from doing what you love.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Amber countered. “Give up my work so that I can focus on puzzle competitions?” She had worked so hard to get into the FBI.

  “Would that be so bad?” Joseph reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “You can’t forget about the things that make you happy. You’re too talented to just let it go. And it would be a lot safer than going out there chasing after killers.”

  Amber could feel the good mood of the date slipping away. Joseph couldn’t seem to accept that Amber had chosen to become an FBI agent, that she was happy to take on the risks of the job. They were a part of what had drawn her to it in the first place.

  “What I do saves lives,” Amber insisted.

  “I know that,” Joseph said, his voice growing softer. “I’m not doubting everything you’ve achieved. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Amber said firmly, pulling her hand away from Joseph’s. “I chose this job for a reason. I want to make a difference, to help people.”

  Were they really going to have this argument now, ruining their date? Amber wasn’t going to back down on this, and it looked as though Joseph wasn’t going to either. He wanted to protect her, but he didn’t seem to understand that Amber could protect herself.

  Even as Amber started to worry about the impending fight, her phone rang. She was almost grateful to see Agent Palliser’s name on the screen. Her boss was one call that Amber couldn’t ignore, no matter what was going on with Joseph, and no matter how bad she felt about the way things were going.

  “Agent Young,” Palliser said as Amber answered. “How soon can you get to Quantico?”

  “Why, ma’am?” Amber asked. “What’s happened?”

  “You and Agent Phelps have a new case. There’s a serial killer, and his methods fit the two of you perfectly.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Amber hurried into the offices of Agent Palliser’s department of the FBI, not caring that it was late, or that whatever had made her boss call her in must be serious to have her do it without waiting till morning.

  If anything, she was grateful that Palliser’s call had come, heading off a potential argument with Joseph. It meant that she could focus on her job, rather than on her boyfriend’s insistence that it was too dangerous.

  When she arrived at the office, Agent Phelps was already there, waiting for her. He looked tense, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing a dark suit, cut in such a way that it didn’t do much to disguise his broad-shouldered, athletic frame. He was sandy-haired and blue-eyed, with his square jaw and muscles making him look like he must have been the quarterback on his high school team when he was younger.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18