Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dayne’s red-and-blue strobes ricocheted off the trees bracketing Tweed Boulevard. He turned off the main road, and before he made it halfway down the drive to the Haven, other strobes flashed in the distance.

His heart rate didn’t slow a beat as he hit the final turn. He still couldn’t reach Kat, Beth, or any of the guards on their cells, and he’d called every one of them three times during the thirty minutes he’d hauled ass up the Turnpike. The two local PD cruisers parked in front of the Haven should have eased his anxiety. They didn’t. Nor did the ambulance quickly closing the gap behind him. The PD must have called for it.

His heart leaped into his throat. He shoved the gearshift into park, jumped out, and ran to the nearest cop. “Who is it? Who’s the ambulance for?” He held his breath. Please don’t be—

“A security guard.” The cop jerked his thumb to the back of the Haven. “Someone knifed him in the gut. Don’t know if he’ll make it.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. Mauser was here. Somewhere on the grounds. Knowing the guard had been taken out was bad enough. At least Kevin, Fiona, and the volunteers were long gone for the day.

“Call for more backup and stay alert,” Dayne warned. “There’s a homicide suspect on the loose and he’s here. Name’s Christian Mauser.” He gave the cop a quick description. “Tell your partner, then meet me at the castle. I’ll leave the gate open.” Two seconds later he was back in his SUV and speeding toward the gate. He punched in the code then hit the button to lock the gate in the open position.

Dayne slammed his foot on the gas pedal. Remy snorted from the back seat. “Sorry, girl.”

He skidded to a stop in front of the castle, pausing only to grab a flashlight from the console and pop open Remy’s door. The pungent smell of gasoline and smoke hit him in the face, growing stronger as he rounded the northwest corner. He clicked on the flashlight, taking in the smoldering shrubs first and then the three bodies lying on the edge of the grass.

The guards. And Beth. Shit.

Strobe lights reflected off the trees, indicating the other cop had joined him.

Dayne drew his gun, maintaining a firm grip on the flashlight as he aimed the beam over the yard and the brush line. He ran to Beth and the guards, feeling each of their necks for a pulse. Luckily, they were still alive.

“Call for more ambulances,” he shouted to the cop rushing over. “I’m going inside.” He ran to the front steps. Remy loped next to him. Cautiously, he pushed the door open. It was another five minutes before he cleared the place. No sign of Kat anywhere. Or Angus.

Before leaving her bedroom, he grabbed her lavender sweater for Remy to get a scent.

Christ, if anything happens to her… The thought gutted him.

He ran back outside just as two more cruisers skidded to a stop in front of the steps. Dayne’s cell vibrated and he yanked it from his belt. Paulson. “What’ve you got?”

“Two clear prints from the hairbrush, and we got a hit. A big one. Christian Mauser’s real name is Robert Fulbright.”

“I know that name.” He tried to remember why but couldn’t.

“You should,” Paulson continued. “We all should. Eighteen years ago, Robert Fulbright killed his entire family in Oregon. His wife, mother, three children. The guy disappeared without a trace.”

Dayne gripped the phone tighter. Jesus, he did remember that case. The killings happened before he became an FBI agent, but Becca told him all about it because she’d worked the case before transferring to New Jersey.

The rest of the puzzle locked into place.

Becca had photographed Christian Mauser in connection with her insurance fraud investigation. She’d either recognized him, or he’d caught her photographing him. So he killed her then stole the file from her office.

“Dayne, you there?” Paulson shouted. A siren screamed through the phone. But the detective was all the way down in Edison.

“Yeah.” He gripped the sweater in his hand even tighter. “Send more patrol cars. Tell them to start searching the roads in and around the Vandenburg estate. Tweed Boulevard, Bradley Hill Road, and Park Road.”

“Already on their way.”

Dayne ended the call then held Kat’s sweater out for Remy to sniff. When his dog had inhaled her scent, he tucked the sweater through his belt. “Such!”

Remy tore down the steps, nose to the ground, circling until she found a track and followed it to where the cops stood by Beth and the guards’ prone bodies. His K-9 zigzagged then circled twice more before heading across the driveway to the tree line. She turned to wait for him, expecting him to clip on her search lead.

“Voraus!” He waved his hand in the air for Remy to keep going then he hit the ground running.

He aimed his flashlight dead ahead, doing his best to keep up. Occasionally, Remy stopped, circled, then took off again. Dayne’s pulse raced faster than he thought possible. Sweat soaked his polo. He prayed they wouldn’t be too late.

He recalled the day he and Remy had found a track that led all the way through the woods to the Blauvelt State Park parking lot. He’d been sure then that Mauser had left his vehicle there. If Mauser got Kat into his Equinox before they caught up, he could take her anywhere. And kill her.

Fuck. He hadn’t put out a BOLO for the Equinox. Another mistake.

He pounded through the trees, not caring how much noise he made. If—no, when—Remy found Kat, she’d alert and start barking.

As if reading his thoughts, Remy’s barks sliced through the air, getting louder as Dayne neared where his K-9 stood in a moonlit clearing up ahead. Judging by the rigidity of his dog’s posture, she’d found something. The slumped form on the ground at Remy’s feet was definitely a body. Time—and his heart—seemed to slow.

Please don’t be Kat.

The beam of his flashlight lit on the corpse. He sucked in a tight breath, letting his head tip forward in the most relief he’d ever experienced in his godforsaken life. It wasn’t Kat.

The man’s nametag glowed in the overhead light. Manny. Beside the body lay a bouquet of mangled pink roses. He’d bet his ass this was the same bunch of flowers Manny had with him outside the Vandenburg building in the city. Meaning, the man had been dead for days.

Meaning Christian Mauser aka Robert Fulbright had been watching them for who knew how long.

A chilling fear gripped his soul. If Remy tracked Kat’s scent only to find another corpse, he didn’t know what he’d do.

He’d made a mistake. A big fucking mistake.