They crested the final hill.

  “Just ahead five hundred feet,” Ian told Londyn as he leaned forward to search for her car. “A truck. What’s it doing there?”

  “If she was in an accident, maybe he stopped to help.”

  “It’s a match for Flagg’s truck,” Ian said.

  “Could be, but there are hundreds of Ford F150s in the county.”

  “There’s another person in the cab with him. Could be Malone.” Ian strained to get a better look, but the truck took off, spitting gravel from the shoulder. “Can you make out the plate?”

  “No.” Londyn sped up.

  They gained on the truck, and Ian read the plate out loud.

  “Do you want me to go after the truck or stop at the coordinates?” she asked.

  “No way to know if Malone was in the vehicle. We have to stop.”

  She hit the brakes, and the rear skidded before she regained control.

  Ian looked out the window as they approached the location. “Tire marks. Skids. Heading for the embankment.”

  The car rocked to a stop. Ian shoved his door open and charged for the edge of the road. He spotted the cherry red Mustang wrapped around a tree. He dropped to the ground and slid down the hill, leaves and needles scattering around him. At the bottom, he raced for the car. He heard Londyn at the road calling for a patrol deputy as he searched the car. It was in rough shape. Nearly as bad as her parents’ car had been. The driver’s door stood open.

  Malone wasn’t there.

  “Malone!” he shouted. “Malone!”

  No response.

  She must have gone in that truck. Or she was walking the other direction from where they arrived.

  He dialed her phone. It rang from the floor of the car.

  No, oh, no. They could no longer track her via GPS. They had to follow that truck, and fast. It was their only hope of finding her.

  21

  Every part of Malone’s body ached, her head most of all, and drowsiness kept dragging her toward sleep. She must’ve suffered a concussion when she hit her head. Nothing else could explain her nearly falling asleep after Gilbert Flagg Sr. dragged her up the hill and shoved her in his truck. He tied her wrists with rope and fastened them to the door. The truck smelled strongly of musk cologne, and that didn’t help with the nausea that was building in her gut.

  He flicked the wipers on a higher speed, and they scraped across the window with irritating screeches, hurting her head more. The tires whisked over the wet pavement, and miles flew past under his maniac driving. Maybe he had a death wish, but she didn’t.

  The tires slid on the curve, the truck fishtailing. Adrenaline pumped through her body waking her up.

  “You won’t get away with this, you know.” She glared at him. “I left the information for Sarah Anderson’s murder right where you hid it all those years, and Detective Blair was on his way over to see me.”

  “Already taken care of.”

  “You were in my house?”

  “Right after you left. Been watching the place for days to see if you started ripping apart that wall.” He looked at her. “You really should get some drapes or blinds. Nice try with the detective thing, but if he was on his way over, you wouldn’t have left.”

  He had a point, but she wouldn’t acknowledge it. “I can understand you hiding the souvenirs of your heinous crime in a wall when you lived there, but why not take things with you when you left?”

  A smug grin lit his face. “The thrill of it, baby. I’ve left prizes in five other houses, just waiting for discovery. But it couldn’t be pinned back to me. We had construction workers at every house, and they could’ve hidden the items.”

  Malone gaped at him. “You killed five other women?”

  “You’ll make number seven,” he said matter-of-factly, as if they were talking about taking out the trash. “Of course, you’ll be a little different. I can’t leave mementos at my house now. But maybe I can put them in the new house I’m building, and it’ll be like you’re with me every day. With Karen locked up, that will be nice. I won’t be alone.”

  Malone couldn’t stop herself from shuddering.

  He frowned and stroked her hand. “Now, come on, honey. Don’t worry. You should be happy to be chosen as one of my girls. I’m very picky.”

  His tender tone said he really believed what he was saying. He had to be insane to think that way.

  It creeped her out, and she had to move on. “Why did you kill my parents?”

  “They forced the issue.”

  “How?”

  “Your dad knew my company had renovated their house before they moved in. He called to say he was going to remove the half wall and wanted to know if we had more of the wood flooring. I told him a good flooring guy could piece in hardwoods. He thanked me for the info, but I should’ve thanked him. After all, he’d given me a heads-up that it was only a matter of time before he found Sarah’s things. I had no choice.” Flagg shook his head. “But what a rush. Learning I could’ve been found out. That the news media would speculate on who killed her. It was a rush when her murder was reported in the paper, but that? That was closer to home. More thrilling. Much more.”

  She could hardly look at him. “Junior found out about you somehow, and that’s what he was going to tell me.”

  “Seems like it, but he never told me or my wife. He was probably too afraid to confront me. Instead, he ran to you like a tattletale. Big baby.” Flagg’s lip curled up. “He’s my one regret in life.” He glanced at her, gaze hardened, and she could easily imagine him standing over her with the knife in hand. “My one and only.”

  Ian held the rifle he’d retrieved from his trunk and outfitted the weapon with his night vision scope. Maybe today was the day he would actually use the scope. Maybe God had prepared him by encouraging him to carry the right equipment.

  He glanced at Londyn who kept the speed above the limit, but it didn’t feel fast enough.

  He sat forward in his seat and peered out the front window deluged by a sudden downpour, the wipers furiously trying to keep the glass clear. The vehicle was cool, but perspiration beaded on his forehead. At every turn, he hoped to catch up to the pickup. He would use his rifle’s telescopic sight that magnified the subject and focus on the truck to confirm that Malone was in the vehicle and Flagg was driving. The vehicle was registered to Flagg’s construction company. Not a surprise, but it could be one of Flagg’s workers in the truck.

  “Hopefully, a patrol officer will spot them soon.” He’d requested an alert be put out by the county sheriff’s office, which would go to the entire metro area. The officers had the truck’s description. The plates. And the fact that the truck had been on this road. But the big question, the one burning a hole in Ian’s gut was, had Flagg turned off?

  The map he’d pulled up on his phone didn’t show any side roads to this point, but a major intersection was coming up in another mile.

  He’d turned the radio to the sheriff’s channel and periodically switched back and forth to PPB to listen in, praying for news of the truck.

  “Where do you think Flagg’s taking her?” Londyn asked.

  “If he follows his pattern, he’ll want to kill her somewhere close to his house. Of course, this is nothing like his other murders.”

  “Criminals often commit crimes within a narrow radius around their homes.”

  “He won’t kill her at his house now. Not when he knows he’s already on our radar.”

  “What about the house he’s constructing?” she asked. “It’s secluded and workers would’ve gone home by now.”

  “Would be a good place to commit murder.” Ian got out his phone to look at the pictures he’d taken of Junior’s closet. “I’ll call in and get an unmarked car out to his current residence to tell us if they arrive so we can head to the construction site.”

  He called dispatch on speaker and made his request.

  “Please hold,” the dispatcher said.

  He tapped his foot as he counted down the time. “C’mon. Hurry up.”

  “Good news, Detective,” she said. “One of the detectives on the drug squad already has the house under surveillance. Flagg isn’t home, and they’ll remain in place for as long as you need and will notify you if he arrives.”

  “Roger that,” Ian replied and hung up.

  “So what do you want to do?” Londyn asked him.

  Yeah. What? Think, man. Think.

  If he made the wrong decision, Malone could die. Even if he made the right one, they could already be too late.

  “Ian,” Londyn said.

  He racked his brain. “If we don’t catch up to them by the intersection and they haven’t been spotted by an officer, we’ll head over to the house Flagg is building.”

  “Too bad we can’t get eyes on the place from overhead,” Londyn said.

  Ian nodded, but neither PPB or Washington County Sheriff’s office had helicopters. PPB had a surveillance plane, but it would take too long to get approval for take-off on a non-tactical situation, if he even could get approval with the limited information he possessed.

  He lifted his gun and ran his scope over the area. No truck. No Malone.

  His hopes sank, and he lowered the rifle. They were entering a more populous area, and he didn’t want someone to spot the gun and report him.

  He craned his neck to see ahead, his pulse pounding loudly in his brain.

  C’mon. C’mon. C’mon. Where are you?

  Londyn approached the intersection.

  Ian brought up the address of Flagg’s new house in a map program on his phone. He zoomed in on a photo of the Flagg’s new place that was on Junior’s closet wall. “Junior wrote the date on the pictures he’d taken of his parents’ new house. They were dated just a few days before he died. All the walls are framed, but only the front is sheathed. No approach from the back due to a steep hill and trees.”

  “Then he’s likely watching for us to come after him from the only way in,” Londyn said.

  “He might even have security cameras on the property and get alerts on his phone when anyone gets near. We’ll have to be careful of that.”

  “I’ll call for backup and tell them to hold at a distance until we give them the signal to move in. Don’t want them spooking Flagg.” Ian made the call and gave specific instructions.

  After he ended the call, Londyn glanced at him. “Any rear access? Could we surprise him if we came from that direction?”

  “Not with the steep hill. We would need heavy equipment to lift us up to the house.” He enlarged the picture even more. “There’s an articulating boom lift below the house. It can reach the house and might still be there.”

  She flashed him a wide-eyed look. “You’re not thinking of going up in that, are you?”

  “Absolutely. If there’s someone on site with keys or even forgot the keys in the machine.” Ian considered the plan and believed it was their best chance in saving Malone. He glanced at his watch. “The workers would’ve likely just gotten off work so maybe someone is still there.”

  “Wouldn’t Flagg hear the boom?”

  “There’s an off chance that he might hear the diesel startup, but he won’t hear the boom since it’s much quieter. He shouldn’t hear it. Especially in this downpour.” At least, Ian hoped that with his limited experience with these kinds of booms that his opinion was right.

  Please. Please, let me be making the right decision. Malone’s life depends on me, and I can’t lose her. I just can’t.

  Malone kicked and scratched as Flagg hauled her from his truck up the steps of his giant new house. Rain pummeled them, and heavy Oregon clay soil sucked at their feet. But Flagg kept his footing, even with her fight. She gave up for a moment to catch her breath and noticed four houses were being built on this new street, all in various stages of construction. The street had one temporary light pole, but the houses were dark and silent. The workers would’ve just gone home for the day.

  Flagg could kill her and dispose of her body. The foundation was already in place, but he could pour a concrete patio. Maybe his other victims were buried in concrete in his prior homes. If she got free, she would make sure Ian searched the properties.

  If she got free. That was the obstacle. Her hands were tied in front of her, the end of the long rope in Flagg’s hands. His eyes glazed with a craziness she’d never witnessed, not even in crazed fathers and husbands who wanted their wives back. Never in her wildest dreams did she guess Junior’s father was a serial killer.

  He dragged her across the plywood floor to the back of the house, where the framing had been completed but was still open to the elements. A large patio abutting the house was also framed with two-by-fours. Rebar crisscrossed half of the area just waiting for the concrete pour. The other half still needed the rebar.

  Flagg spun to look at her, a gleam in his eyes. “What do you think of this as a resting place? You’ll be overlooking the Portland skyline, and there are glorious sunrises and beautiful sunny days.”

  She could easily imagine him digging a hole there, dumping her in, and covering her up. Workers would rebar over her, and the concrete would seal her grave.

  She shuddered, and tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry to manage it.

  His eyes narrowed. “Not that it matters much to me what you think. It’s what I think that’s important. Always has been. Always will be.”

  She searched the darkness for a way to escape, but she found only a sharper ravine than the one her car had plunged over. Scrub, bushes, and trees covered the steep drop-off just beyond the patio. She could hurl herself over the framing, but that would mean certain death. Remaining where she was standing meant certain death too.

  The only question she needed to contemplate now was which way she wanted to die?

  22

  Ian grabbed his rifle and earbuds from the glove box so he could keep in contact with Londyn as she put on the brakes at the small clearing by the boom lift. He burst out of the car, ignored the rain and lifted his rifle to search the back of the house. A man and woman were standing there. Their backs were to Ian, so he couldn’t identify them, but he had to assume it was Flagg and Malone. His heart soared at seeing her alive. He’d arrived on time.

  Maybe.

  Ian had to act now. He couldn’t just shoot the man. A police officer’s job was to maintain life at all times, even if the life he was maintaining was a serial killer’s.

  Ian had to get up there and fast.

  He spotted a truck parked in the clearing. A man sat behind the wheel, the light from his phone glowing on his face. Ian dug out his credentials and charged for the vehicle. The guy was so involved in his phone he didn’t look up. Ian pounded on the window, and the man startled. Ian held out his creds, and the man lowered his window.

  “Do you have a key for that boom lift? Do you know how to operate it?” Ian’s words tumbled out fast as he took in the name Vern embroidered on the man’s denim shirt.

  “Yes and yes.”

  “I need to be lifted up to the Flagg house as quickly as possible.”

  “I’d need Flagg’s permission to do that.” Vern burned his gaze into Ian. “’Sides, you can easily get into the place from the road. There’s a security gate up at the end of the street for vehicle access, but you can hoof it over there.”

  Ian didn’t have time to waste, but the guy wasn’t budging. “I need to surprise him.”

  “He’s up there?”

  “Yes, and he’s about to kill a woman. We have no more time to talk. Either help me or I’ll arrest you for impeding an investigation.”

  Vern crossed his arms. “Flagg’s no killer.”

  “You’ll have to take my word for it.” Ian jerked Vern’s door open. “Let’s move.”

  Vern picked up his hat and slid out slowly. Ian had had enough. He grabbed the man’s shoulder and catapulted him toward the lift.

  Ian dug out his phone and earbuds from his pocket then looked at Londyn, who remained by the car. “Keep in touch with our back up. Call me, and we’ll stay connected so I can update you.”

  Vern put his key in the control panel on the side of the machine. The diesel fired up, running loud by the lift’s base, but Ian hoped the distance and rain prevented Flagg from hearing it.

  Vern turned the key. “We’re good to get into the basket and take control from there.”

  Ian raced to the metal-framed basket and jumped in. Vern joined him. The machine was in the right location and didn’t need to be moved.

  “Fast as you can,” Ian said to Vern and swiped the rain from his face.

  He pressed his foot on a pedal and shoved the joystick control forward, and they headed into the dark night sky. Ian’s view of the house was blocked by trees, but he lifted his rifle and waited for the basket to crest the top of tall pines. He searched the back of the house. It was dark, but his scope cut through it and gave him a clear view again.

  Flagg and Malone hadn’t moved much. What were they looking at inside the house?

  Ian couldn’t focus on that now. He had to plan his approach as they rose higher. “Does Flagg have security cameras on the build site?”

  “A few, but they point toward the road.”

  After Vern’s reluctance, Ian didn’t know if the guy was telling the truth, and Ian couldn’t be too careful with Malone’s life. He would check. He ran his scope over the building. If Flagg had cameras facing the hillside, they would light up like a spotlight in his night vision.

  Nothing flared. Good. They were clear.

  He focused on the house. There. Finally the pair turned and jumped down to the ground. Ian could make out their faces. Malone and Flagg. Ian was sure now. Malone was moving normally. A large goose egg on her head but no other visible injuries. Flagg wasn’t brandishing a weapon, but he’d tied Malone’s hands and was holding the rope.

  Ian had to get up there before he hurt her. “Faster.”

  “Going as fast as I can in this rain,” Vern said.