Parker seemed not to notice the attention. Or maybe he was just so used to it that he assumed it was there and didn’t need to pay close attention to it.

  The girls continued to tease each other, and Gavin pushed ahead to walk next to Parker. He felt suddenly self-conscious about the girls catching him staring.

  “You’re gonna love this place, Gavin,” Parker said. “It’s like the old Shapley farmhouse but way scarier.”

  Gavin managed a smile. “Cool.”

  “Yeah, it’s cool!” Parker said enthusiastically. “It’s like The House of a Thousand Corpses meets The Hills Have Eyes.”

  Gavin miraculously managed another smile and tried to ignore the way his heart was pounding. He didn’t mind a good horror movie every now and then, but he wasn’t much for experiencing such things in real life.

  Of course, he wasn’t going to tell Parker or the girls that. It was bad enough that he still hadn’t lost his baby fat and so looked like a cuter version of that kid from The Goonies. He didn’t need to add to his problems by making himself look like a wimp too.

  They reached a chainlink fence that was about twelve feet tall and topped with a loop of razor wire. Parker scaled the fence effortlessly and dropped to the other side as gratefully as a ballerina, easily avoiding the razor wire.

  Sarah went next. She had been in cheerleading and gymnastics all of her life and had even less trouble with the fence than Parker.

  Andrea hesitated. “I don’t know if I can do that,” she said.

  She turned to Gavin and smiled, and his heart flipped end over end.

  “Give me a boost?” she asked.

  “S-sure,” he said, stumbling over his words.

  He stooped down and held his hands out for Andrea to step on. She placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed her weight into his palms. His shoulders strained with the effort, but he hardly noticed. He tried very hard not to notice how close she was to him, but he failed spectacularly at that.

  Andrea grabbed the fence and pulled herself up. When she was halfway up, she smiled down at Gavin. “Thank you.”

  That was enough to start his heart doing somersaults again. He could hear Parker and Sarah giggling as he watched Andrea scale the fence, but he didn’t care. His shoulder burned where her hand had rested on it, and he was pretty sure he was happier than he had ever been.

  “Hey, Earth to Gavin. You still with us, bud?”

  Gavin blinked and realized that Andrea had finished scaling the fence, and the three of them now waited for him to follow. He reddened and said, "Yeah. Hold on."

  He climbed the fence slowly, hating the way it bowed and shook as he scaled the chainlink. He wasn’t exactly huge, but he was, as his mother liked to put it, husky, and he had doubts about the fence’s ability to hold his weight.

  The razor wire presented another problem. The loop was wide and almost lazily installed, but athleticism wasn’t Gavin’s strong suit and he doubted he could flip his body over without tearing a half dozen new holes in his skin.

  “Just jump!” Parker called. “The grass is soft on the other side!”

  Gavin looked down at the razor wire, hating this, hating the entire trip, hating that once more he had allowed Parker to talk him into something stupid.

  But then he looked at Andrea and saw her watching him. He remembered the feeling of her hand on his shoulder, and summoned up all of his courage, then all of his strength. With a cry of effort, he leaped over the fence.

  He missed the razor wire. That was the good news. The bad news was that the grass on the other side of the fence wasn’t nearly as soft as Parker made it out to be. The moment he landed, he felt his chest seize up and knew the wind had been knocked out of him.

  Andrea gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. Sarah started giggling but stopped when Parker flashed her a disapproving look. The older boy jogged over to Gavin and extended his hand. “Hey, man, are you all right?”

  Gavin managed a nod, then regained his breath. He sucked in a huge lungful of air and accepted Parker’s outstretched hand. The older boy helped him to his feet and clapped him on the shoulder. Andrea smiled at him, and Gavin felt his cheeks burn. Sarah made a face, and he grinned and flipped her the bird. She giggled at that and returned the gesture.

  The group continued up a shallow hill that rose about eighty feet over the next half mile. When they reached the top, Gavin could see their destination. From the outside, it didn't look like much, just a vault-style door that opened into another hill about a quarter-mile further.

  “See?” Parker said exuberantly. “What did I tell you?”

  “Those look like the vaults from that old video game my uncle used to play,” Sarah said. “That one about the nuclear wasteland.”

  “That’s basically what this is,” Parker explained. “I mean, it’s a storm shelter, not a fallout bunker, but it’s basically the same thing. Except this one…” he paused for dramatic effect. “Is haunted!”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. Andrea pursed her lips and whined, “Don’t say that, Parker! I’m freaked out already.”

  Parker smiled and put a comforting arm around her, and Gavin felt a pure rush of hate for him. “You’ll be okay, baby. I’ll protect you.”

  Andrea shoved him off of her and said, “Hands to yourself, mister,” but she blushed crimson and grinned like she had just been given a puppy.

  Gavin felt another rush of hate, but it wasn’t Parker’s fault. He didn’t know that Gavin liked her, and even if he did, what would it matter? Parker was tall and strong and confident and cool and Gavin…

  Well, Gavin was the type of person you stepped on to climb to someone better.

  “Come on,” Parker said. “Let’s go see some ghosts!”

  “You’re a jerk, Parker,” Sarah said.

  Gavin noticed that Andrea walked much closer to Parker as the group approached the storm shelter. He tried not to dwell on that, but it wasn’t until they reached the entrance to the storm shelter, and he came face to face with exactly what they were dealing with that his jealousy faded.

  The door was much larger than it appeared from the top of the hill. It was nearly eighteen feet tall and consisted of two massive concrete slabs shackled by a steel bolt that looked to weigh at least forty pounds.

  The bolt, thankfully, was left open, and the doors were slightly ajar. Whoever had been here last didn’t seem to care about keeping it safe from trespassers when they decided to abandon it.

  “Maybe they were running from the ghosts,” Parker said, “and that’s why they didn’t close the door behind them.”

  “Stop it, Parker!” Sarah cried. “Enough with the ghosts.”

  She took a step closer to Gavin without seeming to notice that she was doing so. Gavin’s brow furrowed. Why would she go to him and not Parker? Gavin would feel a lot safer with Parker than he would with himself.

  “Oh, come on," Parker whined. "Don't be wimps, guys. This is going to be the experience of a lifetime!"

  “That doesn’t make me feel better,” Sarah retorted.

  Parker sighed exaggeratedly and shook his head. He looked at Gavin and said, “You know, I try with these girls. I really do.”

  Andrea giggled and slapped his shoulder, and Gavin felt another irrational rush of jealousy.

  “I’ll bet Gavin’s brave enough to go inside,” Parker said, nodding at the other boy with a grin.

  Gavin’s face went white. Sarah crossed her arms and said, “Why don’t you go in if you’re so brave,” she said.

  “I will,” Parker assured her, “but this is Gavin’s first haunted location, and I think he deserves to be the first of our group to enter. What do you say, Gavin?”

  Gavin swallowed and just barely managed to keep his voice nonchalant. “Sure. I’m down.”

  “He is down!” Parker called exuberantly. He bowed deeply and gestured toward the shelter. “Lead the way, mon capitaine!”

  Gavin took a deep breath and started toward the shelter. Out of nowhere, Sarah grabbed his elbow. “Be careful.”

  Her brown eyes stared widely up at him, and he noticed for the first time how her dark hair framed her face. “Yeah,” he said. “All right.”

  She released him, and he started toward the shelter. A musty breeze wafted through the entrance, carrying with it the decades-old scents of mold and earth. He shivered though the night was warm and hesitated just before the door.

  “What are you waiting for?” Parker called. “Lead us to paradise!”

  “You have an odd definition of paradise,” Andrea said.

  Gavin took a deep breath. The door was closed just barely too tightly for him to fit. He pressed his hands against one of the slabs. It was cold as marble under his palms. He took another deep breath and heaved. The door trembled, then, with a sigh of protest, began to move slowly along its track.

  Parker and the girls cheered, and Gavin felt a rush of pride. He blushed and hoped Sarah was impressed with his strength.

  Wait, Sarah? Not Andrea?

  He didn’t have time to dwell on his changing object of affection because he felt something soft and heavy thump against his leg.

  He heard Sarah shriek and looked down at his leg. When he saw the body of a man staring up at him with lifeless eyes, he leaped backward with a cry, tripping and falling to the ground. The body fell in such a way that its eyes stared directly at his. He forgot himself, forgot about looking strong and manly for Sarah, and let out a blood-curdling shriek.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Faith laughed, a full body laugh that brought heat to her cheeks and tears to her eyes. When was the last time she had laughed like that?

  Dr. West laughed too, shaking his head and removing his glasses to rub his eyes. “Oh my God,” he said, “That sounds just like him. Did he give you the speech? The one about watching too many good agents lose their careers over stupid obsessions?”

  “He did,” Faith replied, “stared straight out the window with his hands behind his back in parade rest.”

  “Watching the American flag, right?” he asked, grinning.

  “Yes!” she said, laughing again. “Like he’s Captain Ahab or Nemo or, I don’t know, you’ve read more books than me.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if the captain he was imitating was named Picard.”

  “Really?” Faith asked, “The Boss is into Star Trek?”

  The Boss, Special Agent-In-Charge Grant Monroe, looked and acted like a Marine Corps drill instructor. The idea of him gazing intently at the exploits of the USS Enterprise brought her to laughter again.

  “Big fan. He’s even seen the Animated Series.”

  “There was an animated series?”

  “Apparently. You should do the greeting, the live long and prosper thing, next time you see him.”

  “Oh, I definitely will.”

  He grinned. “Just don’t tell him I told you. All right, enough breaching doctor-patient confidentiality. Let’s get back to work.”

  Faith met his eyes. “You don’t go around telling people my secrets, do you?”

  He returned her gaze with another smile. “Of course not. Those are all mine.”

  ***

  Faith listened to the police sergeant explain that there still was no sign of Dr. West. His home, of course, was abandoned when the police burst through the front door the week prior. His car was missing, but nearly everything else was left behind.

  And what was left behind was a horror house. Pictures littered every available surface—pictures of his victims before, during and after their murders. Odd possessions were strewn everywhere—a blanket here, a purse there, a shoe, a bracelet, an earring—a keepsake from every one of his victims.

  As Faith took a mental inventory of everything found, she realized there was one more thing missing.

  His tools.

  Dr. Franklin West, the copycat killer, emulated the MO of a previous killer, Jethro Trammell, known as the Donkey Killer, liked to tie people to chairs in the middle of abandoned buildings and torture them by cutting them and occasionally severing ligaments and tendons before finally allowing them to bleed out. Thanks to Faith’s own experiences with Trammell, she knew that he also liked to taunt his victims.

  Let’s see how you bleed, little girl.

  She shook the memory off and asked, “Any luck with the fingerprints?”

  “Nothing,” the sergeant—a predictably gruff, well-muscled man in his early forties—replied with thinly veiled frustration. “No DNA either. His house is a mess, but absolutely none of that mess can be traced back to him.

  Faith nodded. “Keep trying.”

  She left the police station, Turk at her side. The big German Shepherd, normally ebullient and energetic, a puppy despite being over eight years old, was deadly serious now. He had suffered his own tragedy at Trammell’s hands, and in his own way was just as troubled as Faith was by the existence of a Copycat Killer.

  Dr. West, was, if anything, even more cruel than Trammell. His victims were left worse off than Trammell's, and there was sign of significant psychological torture on several of the victims as well.

  Faith knew what that felt like.

  She managed to keep her frustration at bay until she got behind the wheel of her old Crown Victoria. Then she slammed her fist against the dash and swore.

  She hit the dash again, and Turk barked and pressed his head to hers. She held him, stroking his fur and allowing his presence to calm her.

  Dr. West.

  Dr. Franklin West.

  Dr. Franklin Goddamned Motherfucking West.

  She lifted her fist again but this time managed to restrain herself, so she lightly tapped the dash instead of hitting it. She left it there and stared out the window, her lips pressed tightly together.

  How could she not have known? She had been seeing him for months. She had spent hours in his office talking to him about her hopes, fears and dreams—everything. She had told him in detail about her relationship with Michael, her relationship with David, her trauma at Trammell’s hands, the fear and bitterness that had followed her ever since. She had told him everything about the Copycat Killer, everything she knew, everything the FBI knew.

  And the entire time, he had been the killer—smiling, sympathizing, laughing with her.

  “Goddammit,” she whispered.

  She put the car in gear and started for home. She was coming to the end of a one-week leave, and she was strongly considering asking the Boss to extend it. She was supposed to be relaxing and allowing herself to recover from the shock of learning that her Bureau-assigned therapist was not only not assigned by the Bureau but wasn’t even a therapist.

  Oh, and the little part about him murdering thirty people. There was that too.

  She wasn’t relaxing, though. She had spent the past week doing exactly what she wasn't supposed to do: investigating the Copycat Killer case.

  The Boss, in his infinite wisdom, had decided after Gordon’s death to not only pull Faith from the case but pull the entire Philadelphia Field Office from the case. It now belonged to the New York field office, who, although predictably unhappy about having to pick up Philly’s slack, would never allow Faith to take so much as a glance at the file.

  The worst part was that the Boss was right. Objectively, the Copycat Killer had fooled all of them so badly that the only thing to do was give it to someone else and hope that they had more success.

  But Faith couldn't do that. She needed this one. He had followed in the footsteps of the man who had nearly killed her and Turk. He had made her look like a fool for months. He had murdered one of Faith’s friends and mentors.

  Her heart ached as she thought of Gordon. There was a point when Faith’s obsession over the Copycat Killer had put her career in jeopardy, and thanks to Supervisory Special Agent Gordon Clark, she had overcome her paranoia and gotten her life back on track. She owed him everything.

  Him and Dr. West.

  Dr. Copycat Killer West.

  She pulled into her driveway and went through the motions of making Turk’s dinner. While he went through the motions of eating it, she went through the motions of making her own dinner, then went through the motions of eating that.

  She had spent the last week following up with the police side of the investigation. She wasn’t foolish enough to try to snoop around the FBI side. If word got back to the Boss, she would find herself on indefinite loan to the belly of the records department at Quantico until the case was over.

  She snooped around on her own, too, checking his workplace and trying to learn what she could about his past. That had proven to be very difficult lately, since she had managed to completely alienate herself from Dr. West’s ex-wife.

  Dr. West’s ex-wife, Ellie, was, as far as Faith could tell, completely oblivious of her ex-husband’s secret life. She was also the fiancée of Faith’s partner and best friend, Special Agent Michael Prince. Faith had suspected her of being the Copycat Killer at one point. Then she had suspected her of being involved with the killer somehow or knowing more than she let on about it.

  Needless to say, her concerns, though never explicitly shared with Michael, strained things between the two of them. They had reached an uneasy truce and seemed able to maintain their friendship, but last week, Faith had confronted Ellie and come just short of accusing her of murder.

  During the confrontation, Ellie let slip that her ex-husband was named Franklin West, and that he was very dangerous, though she didn’t seem to know why.

  And that’s when everything clicked into place for Faith. She realized that Dr. West was the killer and apologized to Ellie.

  Ellie didn’t take it well. She told Faith never to contact her again, and when she returned home to Michael, she told him about the encounter. Michael had sent her a message asking for space and mentioning that the only reason that he didn’t chew her out in person was because he understood that she was going through a hard time learning about Dr. West, and he didn’t want to make things worse.

  She could add her best friend to the list of things Dr. West had stolen from her.

 

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