Holly looked at the clock on her computer. 9:08 pm. What am I still doing here? She opened her email for the twentieth time today and started with her personal account. Nothing from Nathan. How long now? A week? Don’t dwell on it. He’s just busy with his security company. It doesn’t mean anything.

Halfway through her inbox she zeroed in on a BAU memo from Quantico. She double-clicked the message, read the note, and scrolled down to the attached photographs.

She put a hand to her mouth. “Nathan.…”

***

Nathan McBride stretched his six-five, 240-pound frame and yawned. His entire body felt sore from three hours of rototilling five hundred pounds of mulch into his flower beds. He’d also made the mistake of removing his shirt without applying enough sunscreen. The resulting sunburn enriched the diamond-like pattern of scars on his skin—grisly souvenirs from his captivity and torture in Nicaragua fourteen years ago. Making matters even worse, his captor hadn’t spared his face. People who looked at him, if they got past the initial shock, saw a giant N carved into his expression. Those scars couldn’t be covered up. A plastic surgeon had improved things, but anyone with Coke-bottle vision or better couldn’t miss them.

He hit the power button on the TV’s remote and relished the silence. Despite the dark nature of the movie, he’d enjoyed it. Stephen King’s The Shining. Definitely gory in places, but a necessary evil. And the ending had been terrific. The little boy kept his wits about him and outsmarted his possessed father. At least the good guys got away. If only the real world worked like that.…

His cell rang.

“Nathan, it’s me.”

“Hi Holly.”

“Something’s come up. Something you need to see.”

He half laughed. “Okay.…”

“How soon can you get here? It’s serious.”

He heard it in her voice. “I can be there in five hours. I’ll land at Sac Exec. Same place?”

“Yes.”

“Holly, what’s going on?”

“Please, just get here as fast as you can.”

“Are you in some kind of danger?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Holly.…”

She didn’t respond.

“I’m on my way.”

In the bathroom he splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, and made a head call. He retrieved his ready-to-go travel bag from the hall closet and clipped his phone to his belt. Sixty seconds after hanging up, he was arming the security system and walking out the door into his garage. He didn’t like the way Holly sounded. Desperate, almost frightened. What could’ve rattled her like that? She was a veteran law enforcement officer and a special agent in charge for the FBI. He doubted much could rattle her. And yet that’s exactly how she’d sounded.