Smokies Special Agent. Lena Diaz
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turned the laptop around so she could see the screen. There, in living color, smiling and looking carefree, was her sister in the picture her father had given to the police when Becca went missing. It was the picture from the flyer they’d circulated by the hundreds in Gatlinburg after she disappeared. It was the same picture he’d put on the website he’d created to try to generate leads that would help him find his daughter. But they never did.
Becca.
Her throat tight, she whispered, “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
Something flashed in his eyes. Sorrow? Regret? Empathy? Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him enough to close the laptop, or minimize the picture of her sister. Instead, his gaze searched hers.
“What I want is what I’ve wanted all along—the truth. I want you to admit that you came here because your boss, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit, refused to believe your theories about serial killers. I think that you dyed your hair blond to make yourself fit the criteria for whatever serial killer you’re currently theorizing about. And I think you very nearly killed Kurt Vale because you mistakenly thought that he was that killer.” He tapped the screen, drawing her attention to her sister’s picture again. “So, tell me, Remi. What’s the current theory? What killer are you after? If I hadn’t stopped you, would you have murdered Vale because you believe he killed your sister?”
She swore a string of obscenities at him and shoved herself up from her chair. She threw a few more insults out into the universe for good measure, then stalked out of the room.
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