Zac didn’t press. Anthony could tell him. His one talent as a deputy was knowing everyone in town and all their dirty secrets.

  “Where was her phone?” he demanded.

  Hugh headed out of the storage area. “Under the bar, along with her purse.”

  Zac pulled out a pair of gloves before he reached for the phone that was lying next to a red leather purse. Glancing at the screen, he wasn’t surprised to discover it was locked. He would check with Tory’s parents to see if they had the passcode.

  His own phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see a text from Anthony.

  Tory’s parents haven’t seen or heard from her. Worried. They gave me a list of friends. Returning to office to start the calls.

  Zac slid the phone into his pocket, glancing toward Hugh, who was studying him with a worried gaze.

  “You don’t think she just took off, do you?”

  Before he could answer, the front door swung open to reveal Rachel. She motioned for him, a grim expression tightening her features. Zac swiftly moved to join her. “What’s up?”

  “There’s something you need to see.”

  Zac nodded, following her out of the bar and across the graveled lot to the compact car wisely parked well away from the customers. Noticing the open door on the passenger side, Zac leaned into the car. The interior light was on, revealing that it was littered with fast-food wrappers, empty cigarette packs, and dirty clothes wadded on the floorboard. His attention was captured by a padded envelope with his name scrawled on the front lying on the car seat, along with a note scribbled on a torn piece of paper.

  Let’s add some spice to the game. I’ll give you 24 hours to find us. Tick tock.

  Chapter 11

  It was well past midnight, but ignoring his weariness, Zac stood in front of the television in his parents’ bedroom. His deputies were continuing to look for Tory after they finished investigating her abandoned car while Zac had taken the envelope and note to the office. He would have them sent to the lab in Madison. They had superior techniques in searching for any fingerprints or DNA left behind. But he’d kept the VHS tape he’d found inside the envelope.

  There was a chance there might be something in the video that would help him locate the missing Tory.

  Grabbing the remote control, he glanced toward Rachel, who was standing next to him, a notepad and pencil in her hand. “Ready?”

  “As ready as I can be.”

  “No crap,” he muttered. “Okay, here we go.”

  The television screen glowed as he punched the play button, a blurry image slowly coming into focus. Zac frowned. He’d expected to see the morgue again. Didn’t serial killers have patterns they felt compelled to replicate?

  Instead he could make out dirt walls and a low, open-beamed ceiling. A cellar? The video wobbled as if the camera was being moved into position, then it was slowly tilted down.

  Zac clenched his teeth as a young female came into view. She looked like a broken mannequin that had been tossed into a forgotten corner. Her naked body was slumped against the wall and her head flopped forward as if it was too heavy for her slender neck. She had a cloud of permed hair that formed a bouncy halo that cascaded to her shoulders.

  “A blonde, not a brunette this time,” Rachel murmured, making a note on her pad. “Like Tory.”

  He nodded, the breath squeezed from his lungs as the woman lifted her head to reveal her pale face. Even with the blindfold over her eyes she looked tragically young. And scared. Her lips were parted as if she was struggling to breathe and her cheeks were damp with tears.

  “Jude, is that you?” she called out, visibly trembling as a man with short brown hair stepped into view.

  “Who else would it be, sweet Maureen?”

  Jude Henley. He looked exactly the same as he did in the first video, except he was wearing black jeans and a tailored jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. There was also a shadow of whiskers on his jaw. He was obviously going for the whole Miami Vice vibe. He even glanced toward the camera to flash a smile of smug satisfaction.

  Zac and Rachel shared a look of mutual disgust before she lowered her head to scribble on her pad. “Maureen.”

  Zac turned back to the television. The woman had pulled her legs up tight to her chest, as if to protect herself from the man who slowly squatted down to remove the blindfold.

  “Where am I?” She frowned, warily taking in her surroundings. “This isn’t your house.”

  “No. I never take care of my business at home.” He chuckled. “It’s too messy. I put a little something extra in your glass of wine so I could bring you to my private hideaway.”

  “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

  “Neither do I, not entirely,” Jude murmured, reaching out to grab her hair. With a sharp jerk, he angled her head to an awkward position. “I just know when I look at you I want to beat you until you scream for mercy. Until I’m covered in your blood.”

  “Beat me? Is this a joke?”

  “I find it amusing.” He sneered down at her. “I doubt if you will. Not by the time I’m done.”

  “But . . . you just made love to me.” The woman released a loud sob. “You said you cared.”

  “I say that a lot,” Jude taunted. “I never, ever mean it.”

  “Please,” she pleaded.

  He gave her head another painful jerk. “Please what?” “Let me go.”

  “We’ve just started.”

  Jude released his grip on her hair with a dismissive gesture, disappearing from view. There was the faint scrape of footsteps on cement that melded in with Maureen’s gasping sobs, then Jude returned, holding a crowbar.

  Lifting her hands, Maureen curled into the corner, trying to make herself as small as possible. “Stop.” Her voice was shrill. “My husband will kill you.”

  Jude twirled the crowbar, his manner arrogant as he strolled forward. Was he showing off for the camera? The thought made Zac’s hands clench, longing to smack the smug expression off his face.

  “Thankfully, he’ll never know it was me,” Jude assured the woman. “You’re about to have a terrible accident, but first . . . we play.”

  Offering a taunting smile he gave the crowbar another twirl, then with a shocking force, he slammed the iron bar against her ribs. Maureen parted her lips to release a pained howl. Jude laughed, his eyes closing as if he was savoring her screams. He lifted the crowbar again, swinging it with his full strength, once again aiming at her side. Did he enjoy hearing the crack of her ribs? Or was he ensuring she was incapacitated so she wouldn’t fight back?

  In tense silence, Zac and Rachel watched the brutal assault, sharing a sense of helpless fury. Jude wasn’t just violent, he was methodical. This wasn’t a frenzied attack, it was a deliberate battering to maximize pain and prolong the torture.

  Zac struggled to contain his anger. They were too late to help poor Maureen, he sternly reminded himself. But if they did their jobs, there was the possibility they could rescue Tory.

  After what felt like an eternity, Jude turned toward the camera, his handsome face splattered with blood from the dead woman who lay at his feet. He posed, making sure he was in direct view of the camera before sauntering across the floor. A second later, the television went black.

  The end of the tape.

  Moving on autopilot, Zac reached to rewind the tape and play it again. He didn’t want to see it. His thoughts were already consumed with the savage cruelty he’d just witnessed. It was inhumane. Monstrous. But right now, it was the only clue they had.

  “They were obviously lovers, but he films the beating, not the sex,” Rachel muttered, thankfully distracting him from the dark images replaying on the screen.

  “You think that significant?” he asked.

  She continued to make notes. “It shows that the woman’s death was the part that he wanted to preserve. The sex was meaningless. It was the killing that turned him on.”

  “The preliminary medical examiner’s report suggested that Paige was raped,” he murmured, wondering if the copycat killer enjoyed including sex in the violence, or simply didn’t want to waste the time to form a relationship with his victims.

  She nodded. “I’m guessing that in both cases it was the pain and suffering they enjoyed.”

  “And the death,” he added.

  “Especially the death.”

  Grimly he forced his attention back to the tape, looking for anything that could help in their search for Tory.

  “This looks a lot like the previous tape.”

  “Different location,” she pointed out. “But Jude appears to be roughly the same age.”

  Zac reached out to touch his finger against the screen. “He’s wearing the same watch, or at least a similar one.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Good catch. We should be able to date the year that particular watch was most popular.”

  He searched for any other similarities and differences. His finger moved as Jude turned his head. “No earring. In the first video he had a diamond stud.”

  “So this was before Staci’s murder, or he took out his earring and allowed the piercing to close over.”

  Zac nodded, watching in silence as Jude indulged in his orgy of violence. At last the tape ended. At the same moment, he was distracted by a niggling memory.

  “Maureen. That name seems familiar.”

  Rachel lowered her notepad, turning to face him. “Did you know her?”

  “I don’t think so.” He shook his head. Her face hadn’t looked familiar. At least not in the sense he had met her in the past. Then, he abruptly realized why the name was nagging at him. “The files.”

  “Files?”

  Pressing the eject button, Zac carefully placed the VHS in an evidence bag before leading Rachel out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen. The stacks of folders they’d been studying earlier were still spread across the table.

  Zac moved to shuffle through the papers. “There was one about a woman from Grange. I’m sure her name was Maureen.”

  “Why would Rudolf be interested in a woman from Grange?” Rachel moved to stand beside him.

  “Because her car was found smashed into a tree just outside town.” Zac at last located the file, quickly skimming through the police report that Rudolf had copied and shoved into the folder along with his own suspicions. “Her death was ruled a vehicular accident. It’d been raining the night before and it looked as if she’d lost traction and swerved off the road, but Rudolf wasn’t convinced all of her injuries came from the wreck.”

  Rachel leaned against the edge of the table, her lips pursed as she considered his words. “He thought she’d been beaten?” she guessed.

  “Yes.”

  “But the coroner didn’t agree?”

  Zac flicked through the pages until he found the one he wanted. “Actually, the coroner noted that the wounds weren’t consistent with a car crash.”

  Rachel frowned. “So why wasn’t the accident investigated?”

  Zac was as confused as Rachel. At the very least there should have been an autopsy. It wasn’t until he read through Rudolf’s notes that he realized that the lack of interest in her death had been caused by blatant politics.

  “Her husband had been arrested twice for domestic violence,” he told Rachel.

  Her jaw tightened, her eyes darkening with anger. Rachel firmly believed that there was nothing more cowardly than a man who abused others. “All the more reason to investigate.”

  “True.” Zac agreed with Rachel. Abusive men were the scum of the earth. And Maureen’s husband was grade-A scum. “Amos Godwin was a prominent businessman who sued and won a lawsuit for harassment against the Grange Police Department. The prosecutor wasn’t going to take risks without overwhelming evidence. Especially not back in those days.”

  “When did the car accident happen?”

  “1986.”

  “Eight years before Staci.”

  Rachel’s face paled as they both considered the implication of the date. It was impossible to believe that there hadn’t been other murders in the time span. Probably several murders.

  “Yes.” With a grimace he glanced back down at the report, making a sound of surprise when he reached the bottom of the page. “Amos Godwin died a few weeks later.”

  “Really?” She leaned toward him. “What happened?”

  “He was coming home from work and drove off a bridge into a river.”

  “A car crash, just like his wife.”

  Zac nodded. “And just like his wife, it was ruled accidental.”

  Rachel tapped her finger against the wooden table, energy humming around her despite the late hour. She’d always been like that. As if she possessed so much life it refused to be contained.

  “I suppose it could have been a deer darting into the road,” she murmured, perhaps trying to remind herself it would be dangerous to jump to conclusions. “Or suicide, if he blamed himself for his wife’s death.”

  “Or Jude,” Zac said, putting into words what they both suspected as he pulled out the enlarged photo of a woman with curly blond hair and turned it for Rachel to see.

  Her breath hissed between her lips. “That’s her.”

  Zac replaced the picture in the folder, his mind racing. “Let’s assume that Jude somehow met and seduced Maureen. Or maybe she seduced him. Either way, they were enjoying a secret affair until Jude’s madness overcame him and he beat her to death.”

  Rachel nodded, her brow furrowed. “But why kill the husband? Assuming Jude was actually responsible.”

  “Enjoyment?” Zac suggested. “He obviously savors the power of taking the lives of others. Or maybe he was afraid Amos might have some sort of evidence. Maureen might have left something behind in her possessions that would have implicated Jude as her current lover.”

  He glanced down at the photo of Maureen. In the picture she was smiling, but her eyes were already shadowed, as if she’d sensed the darkness in her future. Or maybe it was the visible wounds caused by her abusive husband. Whatever the cause, it ignited a fierce determination to track down the monster who was currently stalking his town. Maureen was dead, her suffering at an end. Tory’s was just beginning. “Right now I’m more worried about the note left in Tory’s car,” he said in bleak tones. The note was bagged and ready to go to the CSI lab in Madison, but the words were burned into his brain.

  “Me too,” Rachel swiftly agreed. “What does it mean that he was adding spice to the game? It feels like a challenge.”

  “And why did the killer change his routine?” Zac asked. “Or was this always intended to be a part of the sick game?”

  She grimaced. “A good question.”

  “Another question,” Zac continued, his mind racing with horrifying possibilities. “The note mentioned something about twenty-four hours to find them. Do we have twenty-four hours to save Tory? Or is she already dead and there will be another woman taken in twenty-four hours?”

  Rachel held out her hand. “May I?”

  “Of course.” Zac handed her the folder without hesitation. She was the expert in cold cases. “Do you think there might be something in there that might help us?”

  “Paige’s murder was a fairly close duplication of Staci’s death,” she murmured. “Unless he changed his method completely we need to look at the past to solve the current case.”

  Zac struggled to contain his burst of frustration. He didn’t want to look through files or dig into the past. He wanted to be out searching for the missing woman.

  If only he knew where the hell to look.

  “It’s not like we have anything else to go on,” he said, more to himself than his companion.

  Rachel’s expression was sympathetic. “Your deputy hasn’t checked in?”

  “Just to say her parents and friends haven’t seen or heard from her. Neither has her ex-husband.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. No missed messages. “Anthony’s probably in bed by now.”

  Rachel started to skim through the file. “It says here that Maureen was last seen by her husband at home in Grange at nine o’clock on the morning before her car was discovered smashed into the tree. She had a hair appointment at ten and met a friend for lunch. No one saw her or spoke to her after two o’clock.”

  “There’s no explanation why she’d been driving through Pike?” Zac asked.

  “No, she was found in her wrecked car the next morning on the old Lake Road.”

  Zac stiffened. There was something about what she just said that nudged at his mind. Like an insight knocking to get in.

  “Ah,” he breathed, lifting his phone to touch the map app.

  “What is it?”

  Zac zoomed in on the map. Pike had been built along an old railroad. Just outside of town was a man-made lake that had been used for the steam engines. The railroad company had eventually donated the lake to the town and it was still used by locals during the summer for fishing and swimming. Twenty years ago, they’d added a new campground and access road. “This is the old Lake Road.” He dragged his finger along the trail that was nothing more than a dirt pathway. He zoomed out the map to point to a spot just a few miles north. “And here’s the Roadhouse.”

  Rachel sucked in a sharp breath as she easily realized what he was implying. “Maureen could have gone to the Roadhouse to meet Jude.”

  “Exactly.”

  She furrowed her brow. “They met at the bar, and then Maureen went with Jude to have sex. The next morning her car was found smashed into a tree a couple miles away. If the killer follows the same pattern, then Tory is going to end up around Lake Road.”

  “Exactly.” Zac shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed the jacket draped over the back of a chair. “You wanna take a ride?”

  Rachel tossed the file onto the table. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 12

  The cellar isn’t perfect. It’s too large and someone has poured cement on the floor. But beggars can’t be choosers, and since the original location collapsed years ago, I was forced to compromise. Annoying, but I suspected from the beginning this was bound to be a disappointing kill.