Chapter Twenty

"Up, up, up, my garden girls." He clapped his hands, then pressed the remote button as his favorite musical score, Saint-Sa?ns's Danse Macabre Op. 40, began to play. Absolute sheer brilliance! Gorgeous staccato strings. Oh, death had come at midnight with his fiddle! He air-bowed and glided among his hanging baskets, ignoring that a few were empty.

Now Camellia's was void too. She'd been the feistiest of flowers and he wished he could have kept her longer—see how long until she surrendered. But letting her go at the perfect time had been worth it to see Agent Granger's knees buckle, his team's cries.

He imagined himself fiddling Granger's death. With every bow, Granger's time shortened. The Artist held his life in his hands. He'd been in charge from infiltrating the agent's team members and settling on the easiest score—Cami. A stage-five clinger, it hadn't been hard to jump through her security hoops. He'd been everything she'd wanted and then some.

But who would fill his sassy camellia's place? He'd rather liked the challenge she'd presented. A feisty flower would only suit taking her place.

Tonight wouldn't be focused on all the empty baskets needing to be filled with new garden girls. No, he was elated! He'd gotten everything he'd wanted. Tiberius Granger and his team had followed the crumbs he'd laid out like Hansel and Gretel, and he had reaped the benefits. Right there under Granger's nose yet again, and still he had no clue who he was looking upon. The power the Artist wielded. But the agent had felt the power. Felt his own helplessness.

And it had been euphoric.

"Dance, my girls. Bloom, my flowers." He watched their bodies take form, lovely and enticing. "Ah, you are beautiful." Perfection and grace. His blood pumped hot and hard and fast through his veins as he watched their long, slender arms arc above their heads, up on their toes, their calf muscles protruding.

But the beauty he'd created surpassed the beauty of their born flesh. The lines perfect, the shading... He kissed the tips of his fingers. Superb. Vibrant colors.

Waltzing between the cages, he continued to bow his invisible strings, taking pleasure in his pretty dancing flowers. Unspeakable joy, not only in his hunt and the ripe plucking, but in the truth that they were made for him to remake. To bring him glory.

He ached with anticipation as the crescendo began. "Faster. Faster. Faster! Keep with the time. Keep with the time!"

Throwing his head back, he inhaled the fragrance of the garden, the scent of his girls and the glory of his supremacy. And as the piece slowed, he dropped to the floor, spent, his heart beating out of his chest and his thoughts trailing back to Agent Granger. He was going to destroy him.

Storms normally lulled Ty into slumber, but not last night. He tossed and turned to the tune of dread and impending doom. And when the power went out at two a.m., it mirrored this entire investigation. Powerless and in darkness. Like a huge vortex he'd been sucked into with nothing to secure him from whirling into utter chaos.

He had to get ahead of this storm, and the killer's storm brewing.

Thankfully at five a.m. the power returned, but it was nothing short of a prelude to what was coming. Ty trudged to the second floor and the scent of fresh coffee.

Bexley sipped her cup at the table. "Last night was rough and today doesn't look any better."

Asa and Fiona were already gone. Ty heard the shower running when he'd walked past Owen's room. Where was Violet? Wasn't like her to not be up and working before dawn.

"I watched the five o' clock news, Tiberius. Hurricane Jodie's moving up the Georgia coast and not slowing, just sticking around long enough to cause serious damage. Governor's declared a state of emergency. Tens of thousands are without power and people are evacuating in droves. They're predicting a cat 3 to hit us within twenty-four hours."

Not the news Ty wanted to hear. Would Cami have lived longer if the hurricane wasn't expediting the killer's plans? Ty might have found her given a few more days—a week.

Jodie would derail the investigation. Businesses would close and many people would leave the island until the weather cleared. At some point they'd probably close the bridge—or it would flood first—and once that was done, they'd be stranded on the island. No way out. No control.

"Bexley, you and Josiah can't stay on the island. Nothing can be done anyway. If people evacuate, we lose potential witnesses or anyone we need to interview. Local authorities will be dealing with other things. He might be crazy enough to evacuate the women he's still holding—if he's holding them on the island."

"I can't leave her."

They all needed to evacuate, but if she refused he couldn't leave her here alone. "Reconsider or at least let me send Josiah with Owen and the rest of the team. They'll secure a hotel outside the danger zone and return as soon as it's safe. And in a week if she's still not been found, I'll stay. If I have to quit my job and do this alone, I won't leave until we find her, find all of them." Ty couldn't walk away, and he had a strong suspicion this UNSUB wouldn't let him leave. He had an agenda for Ty, and he wasn't the type to let it wash out to sea. The question was, could Ty endure it? Could he get a jump on this guy? Turn the tables and make him his puppet for once?

His phone rang.

Asa.

He slid the bar across his phone and answered.

"You know a Levi Devlin?"

"Levi Devlin..." Wasn't ringing a bell.

"He was on the list of disfellowshipped men leaving within the past ten years, arrested on drug charges and in prison, so I had Selah do a check on the rest of the Family."

"I don't know a Levi. I know a Matt Devlin, though."

"Matthew Levi Devlin. Goes by Levi now. Left Asheville—I'm assuming the Family—and moved to Raleigh. Two counts of sexual assault. Did some time and is an over-the-road truck driver now."

"Hey, I'm putting you on Speaker. When Bex was sixteen, Matt had a thing for her."

"He bullied me and pushed me against a tree and groped me." She instinctively folded her arms over her chest.

"I put my fist in his face and we went to Rand. He was reprimanded and...come to think of it, his family moved. Never saw him again."

Bexley gave him a knowing look. "He hated Tiberius. Because of me, I think."

"Did their leaving have anything to do with you taking his behavior to your dad? If your dad forced them out of the community, he might blame you for any downward spiral in his life."

"Maybe. He had to receive ten lashes. That was standard punishment, but Rand rarely enforced it unless he thought the man was a threat to him."

Asa grunted. "I'm sending over his photo. We're looking for him. If his runs are anywhere near here, and during the times of our victims' disappearances, we might have something. Selah's working on this mystery brother you told us about. The one from the first ‘first wife' who cut the emblems into the squirrels. But she has quite a few men with Granger for a last name to sift through, and that's with it narrowed down to North Carolina. She's cross-referencing the ones she does find with criminal records. I guess the portrait artist hasn't returned to work early and provided a sketch for the Smoothy character at the Inky Octopus?"

"Nope. If he doesn't send it tomorrow like the other guy said he would, I'll follow up." Ty's phone dinged, and he stared at Matthew Levi Devlin. "That's him, only older and scruffier. I could see Cami being into him. She had a bad-boy type." His words carried regret.

Ty removed Asa from speakerphone. "Violet in charge while you're gone?"

"Yes. She's objective and has a level head."

"I get it."

"Ty, the hurricane has less than twenty-four hours to landfall if it doesn't pick up speed—and they're predicting it will. The team is going to evacuate before they close the bridge. That includes you."

"Yeah, I hear ya," he mumbled. "Talk to you later." He ended the call. Bexley took her coffee and headed to her room. Violet came up the stairs.

"Hey," he said. "I hear you're in charge."

Violet strode to the fridge and removed a carton of organic strawberries and blueberries. "Asa needed to go to Memphis. Too much guilt eating at him. Besides, he and Fiona have a good working rhythm."

"And?"

"And I know things Asa doesn't. For one, how to keep you in line," she teased, and he barely caught it. "What's Bexley going to do about the hurricane?" She popped a blueberry in her mouth. Ty stole a strawberry from her bowl.

"She's going to hunker down like most. Asa said we'll have to evacuate." He snagged another strawberry, and she held up the paring knife she'd been using to slice away the green tops.

"Take one more bite of my breakfast..." The corners of her lips twitched. "Have you told him you won't be evacuating?"

"How do you—"

"You have a son, and you love that woman even if she did tear out your heart and stomp on it with steel toes. If she doesn't go, you won't go."

"Nice imagery, Vi." Ty wasn't so sure he loved Bexley, but that kiss had brought out deep feelings. Feelings he didn't have time to act on.

She finished slicing the stems off the small carton of strawberries. "You should tell him. If you don't, he's not going to take insubordination well. We all know what Asa is like when he shows his big bear claws."

Ty sighed. "You're right—about telling him I have a son. He's going to be mad I kept it from him."

"Probably." Violet stuck a spoon in her bowl of fresh fruit. "Before I lose my chance, I'm taking advantage of the fact people are mostly indoors today, and plan to interview more family and friends of the missing women. Catherine Overly is our newest missing woman, and I want to focus on her. Asa combed her condo, but I haven't."

"I can go with you."

"Okay."

He climbed to the third floor, where Owen sat in a little alcove with his laptop, phone and papers in hand. "Selah called," he said. "Cami had receipts from gas stations and a few food places to prove she was on her way to the Outer Banks. And specifically here, Ty. She bought a loaded tea at a little shop here in Blue Harbor, right on the main strip. Tea Totalers."

"When?"

"Ten days ago, Saturday. Around one o'clock. Seems like she made the drive, got into town and had time to kill—" He cringed. "After one o'clock, nothing tangible to track her. No phone location. Nothing."

Winds were at almost fifty miles an hour, but the property management had arrived earlier and hurricane prepped. Thunder roared.

"He told Violet to make sure and keep up with the weather, to vacate before it was too late. And we both know she adheres to rules better since John."

Ty huffed. "The old Violet would have said, ‘Pound sand, we're staying.'"

Owen chuckled and pointed to his notes. "Cami had no hotel or condo reservations. She told her parents and her sister she was going to Florida—a lie. One he probably manipulated her into telling."

"Where would she have stayed? With him. But where?"

"Selah and I have already checked from here to Hatteras to Nags Head. I've narrowed down island homes that are more secluded, like the house Patrick Swain owns. There are four private islands that have had a home or homes built on them, and twelve of those homes might fit the bill. I'm looking into the private homeowners and the companies. The locations are far enough out for complete privacy but not so far you couldn't park at a boat landing or marina and ride out there. We're going to have to split up since we don't have Asa or Fiona with us if we want to search properties and continue our interviews with families before we can't."

Ty nodded. "He could leave them to die in a hurricane. And if it's bad enough, the hurricane could destroy everything, wash homes out to sea and ultimately decimate our investigation." A gale struck the house. Ty's heart pounded.

"I can work the properties that might fit the bill and the private islands for now if you want to cover the last two women who went missing. Not all of them had flower names or we aren't sure if they are flower names. I'm not a botanist. Violet is covering Catherine Overly's place and working through the victimology."

Asa always preferred they work in pairs or even trios, but time was slipping through their fingers. They'd all be fine alone.

Owen tucked his ink pen behind his ear and shuffled through a few papers, handing two of them to Ty. "We aren't going to be able to physically go to the private islands, only the secluded properties we can drive to. Fishing boats aren't even running." He stood. "I mean it. It's dangerous, Ty. No one will rent you a boat anyway. No one is that crazy."

Ty kept his remarks to himself. "I hear ya."

Owen shot him a warning glance. "You hear me. Fine. Listen."

"I'm going to shower." He walked out of the alcove and to his room. Thirty minutes later he was dressed—not for rainy weather but work. Some days he wished his job didn't require suits and ties.

He grabbed his phone and saw a missed call.

Unknown number.