His arm shifted, and she saw the flash of his badge.

“Hell.” Kenton stiffened against her. “Another one?”

But then Kenton’s hip started to vibrate against her. His phone.

“Told Davenport you were busy.” The guy shook his head. “That woman is impatient.”

Kenton yanked out his phone. “Lake.”

Lora eased away from him and kept her eyes on the stranger. “Who are you?”

He flashed a smile, lots of white teeth in the shadows. “Name’s Jon Ramirez, ma’am.”

“What? What the f**k?” Kenton’s voice blasted.

Oh, that couldn’t be good. Her eyes narrowed as Kenton turned away and began to pace the length of the porch. “So you were just… outside my house, all evening?” Lora asked Ramirez.

His shoulders rose, then dropped in a careless shrug. “Keeping an eye on Lake can be a real pain in the ass.”

Uh, okay. “Why are you watching Kent?”

“They promised to put the f**ker on the air?”

She winced at Kenton’s snarl.

Ramirez just shrugged. “Because pretty boy made himself a target, and we watch our own at the SSD.”

Anger had her tensing. “That interview.”

Ramirez gave a nod, and his eyes cut to Kenton.

“Stop them. Pull the whole show off the air if you have to,” Kenton barked into the phone. His gaze landed on her, and she saw the barely controlled fury lurking in his eyes. “I’ll be there, ten minutes. Do not let them go live. Do whatever you have to in order to stop them, Monica, but, stop them.”

He ended the call and bounded down the steps. Lora grabbed his arm. “What’s going on?”

A muscle flexed along his jaw. “Seems Channel Five got a call from Phoenix. The perp wants them to put him on the air.”

“What?”

“Equal f**king time, right?” He shook his head. “He’s supposed to call back during the live broadcast tonight, and some prick of a producer gave the okay to put him on the air.”

“Is Monica gonna be able to hold them off?” Ramirez asked, glancing at his watch. “ ’Cuz the broadcast starts in less than half an hour.”

“She’ll stop them, but we’re getting there, now. Follow me, Jon, and we’ll—”

“Not without me.” Lora wasn’t about to be left behind. “I’m coming on this one.”

“You’re not an agent,” Ramirez said. “This is official—”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “It’s just a phone call. And I’m going.”

The agent’s stare shot to Kenton. He gave a nod. “She’s going.”

Damn straight.

“You can’t tell me what the f**k to do with my station!” a man’s voice thundered.

“Actually, I can tell you exactly what the f**k to do,” Monica replied with her voice low. Calm and cold.

Kenton rounded the corner and saw them. The station manager, Harvey Pile, had his short, squat body planted right in front of Monica. His hands were curved into fists, and his face flushed dark red. Reporters stood behind him, watching closely, and the producer—Travis Jenkins—was just steps away. Monica had told him good old Travis was the one who’d approved the idiot plan.

Monica stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her dark brows up. There were two uniforms near her, one man on each side. They looked nervous and tense.

“Let us into the control room,” Harvey shouted. “We’re scheduled to go live in three minutes.”

Ah, so that explained Monica’s strategic placement with the cops. Monica glanced over at Kenton. “About time you showed up.”

Traffic could be a bitch.

Harvey whirled toward him. “You. Look, I did you a favor, let you come on my show—”

“No, I did you a favor.” And Kenton had. “I gave you a ratings boost that I could have given to any other station in town.” He’d just picked Channel Five because it was closest. It was the luck of the draw.

Sweat lined Harvey’s forehead. “If we don’t take his call, he’ll just go to another station. They’ll take him. He’ll get on—”

“No, he won’t.” Monica was certain. “Every station in the city has a police presence right now.” Her hands gestured toward the cops. “He’s not getting on the air.”

Damn right he wasn’t.

“You can’t do this! We’ve got freedom of the damn press. You can’t—”

Lora moved to his side. “You’re seriously gonna put a killer on the air? He’s burned people alive, moron! He’s taken out a firefighter, and you want him on your show?”

She looked as if she might start swinging any minute.

Kenton eased a bit in front of her, the better to keep her from going after old Harvey.

But Harvey was already inching back from her. “Look, it’s not like we want to go on the air.”

“What? Is he twisting your arms? ’Cause I don’t see anybody holding ’em!”

She was fired up.

He thought Monica’s lips curved a bit.

“One minute till air…” came Travis’s panicked voice.

“I—he’s calling at the start of the show. We’ve got to—”

“Monica will talk to him,” Kenton said.

Harvey’s jaw dropped. “No, that’s not the deal, it’s—”

“Record the conversation. Every second. When this is all over…” He gave a shrug. “You can run it, after the FBI clears the tape.”

Harvey’s hand swiped over his eyes. “Only Channel Five?” Half a deal was better than none, and Kenton figured Harvey had been in the game long enough to realize that fact. “And we get a full-on exclusive when he’s caught?” Harvey pressed.

“Thirty seconds…” Travis was starting to shake.

Kenton nodded.

“All right—shit! Okay, let’s do this!” Harvey clapped his hands. “Places, people! Move, move!”

The staff scrambled.

Monica eased away from the door, just as it opened from the inside. Two more cops stood there. “You got the tracer set up?”

The first guy gave a slow nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What?” Harvey’s head jerked toward her. “You put something on our lines?”

Her smile was wide. “Of course I did. You didn’t think we’d let the call come through without a tracer?”

Not just any tracer. A special tracer designed by the techs at the Bureau.

“Ten seconds.”

Harvey shot into the control room.

“Kenton, you sure you want to do this?” Lora asked, her brows low. “This guy, it seems like you’re just playing into his hands.”

“We have to take the call.” They couldn’t throw away the chance to get in direct contact with the perp. Monica knew her monsters. She’d get him to talk. To make one mistake…

Just one. That’s all they’d need.

“Two people died after the last broadcast.” Her eyes were glinting with anger. “What’s gonna happen this time?”

“Maybe we get the sonofabitch,” Jon said.

“Or maybe not.” Lora’s gaze seemed very deep.

What did she expect him to do? This was his job, and they had to take the call.

Behind him, he heard the anchor take his cue and welcome viewers to another night of Channel Five Action News.

Monica hurried into the control booth, and Kenton followed right behind her. By the time everybody was through that narrow doorway, they were crammed in as tight as sardines.

One of the uniforms sat by the phone line, almost on top of the thing.

“We routed all the calls here,” Monica said. She’d been busy. “If he calls again, we’ll get him.”

The phone rang. Line one lit up.

Monica gave a quick nod, and the cop pressed a button. The speakerphone was on now, and the recording would start immediately.

The uniform answered the call. “Channel Five Action News.” His voice didn’t crack, but the guy’s hands sure shook.

“Get me Pile. Put the bastard on the line.”

Pile’s eyes filled his face.

But Monica shook her head and said, “I’m afraid Pile’s not available right now, but this is Special Agent Monica Davenport. Maybe I can help you.”

Silence.

Then laughter. “You move fast, bitch.” The voice was male, but distorted. Static crackled, and a train whistle blew in the distance.

“Do I?”

“Put me on the air. That was the deal. I call, I get on the air.” Rage was evident, shaking the words.

“Why? If you’ve got something to say, say it to me.” No rage, no tension, just that cool ice.

Lora shifted beside Kenton, rocking forward on the balls of her feet.

“I want to tell them who I am. They need to fear me. Fucking fear me.”

“Is that why you’re starting the fires? So people will be afraid of you?”

Silence.

“What is it that you want?” Monica pressed. “I mean, do you want your fifteen minutes of fame? Is that why you’re calling the station? Well, you’ve already had those fifteen. Your fires were splashed over every paper in the state today. You know that.”

More laughter and static rustled over the line. “You shouldn’t have f**ked with me. You shouldn’t have gone on TV and told lies about me.” A brief pause. “You’re there, aren’t you, Agent Lake?”

Kenton tensed.

“And I bet you’ve got the pretty fire whore with you. You can’t seem to go any damn place without her at your side, can you? Hello, Lora. I loved watching you last night.”

“Asshole!” she yelled.

“Do you like the fire, Lora? Do you like the way it burns? When it touches you, does it feel like a lover?”

“No, you sick prick, it—”

Kenton caught her hand, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close. “Don’t,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t give him anything.” Rage had tightened every muscle in Kenton’s body. How the hell had he known Lora was there?

Sonofabitch. Not just the fires, he was watching them.

“She’s a wild one, isn’t she, Lake? Too much for you.”

His hold on Lora tightened.

“The fire touched you before, Lora. I know. Licked your skin and made you scream.”

Her chin lifted.

“But it’s not all pain, is it? When the fire lances your flesh…” A sigh. “Tell me, Lora, how much heat can you handle?”

Kenton could feel her body trembling in his grasp, but he didn’t speak.

“Why do you care about Lora?” Monica demanded.

A rush of air—no, wind—on the phone line. Then the caller said, “I don’t, but he does.”

Kenton’s gut clenched.

“Don’t you, Agent Lake? She matters to you.”

Monica shook her head, frantic. Don’t speak. She mouthed the words. Because speaking, snapping back, that would be exactly what the prick wanted.

“You want to talk to Agent Lake, then you come in. Come to the police station, and we’ll—”

“Time’s up.” No more rage. He spoke with a tone as flat as Monica’s voice. “And your tracer won’t work, Davenport. I’ll ditch this phone in the next five seconds.”

“You don’t—”

“Get ready. Hell’s coming.”

Another rush of wind, and then, nothing.

Lora’s shoulders slumped, and her body sagged against Kenton.

Over her head, Kenton met Monica’s glittering stare.

Hell’s coming.

CHAPTER Eleven

There was silence in the room. Even Pile seemed stunned. “Did we get a trace?” Kenton asked, easing his grip on her.

The cop glanced up. Kenton recognized him right away. Jess Tyler. He’d retrieved the computer visitor log from Meadows Rehab, a log that had turned up jack shit.

Michael Randall’s mother hadn’t even bothered to visit the kid while he was in rehab.

Jess nodded quickly. “I, uh, we got hits from the cell towers. I think we can correlate it to about two hundred feet.”

“Do it.” Kenton stepped back from Lora. He had to, because the job waited. Dammit. “I heard trains. There’s an old train yard on the west side of town, right?”

Jess gave another fast nod. “Yes, sir, and that’s where the signal seemed to cor—”

That was all Kenton needed to hear. “Ramirez, let’s go.”

Lora grabbed his arm, holding Kenton back. “He’s been watching us. He knew I was here because he’s been watching.”

Kenton nodded grimly. He’d planned to attract the bastard’s attention. He just hadn’t planned on getting the perp to fixate on Lora. But now wasn’t the time for explanations. He needed to move, fast. “Stay with Davenport,” he told Lora as he spun away from her. This time, she let him go.

And though he wanted to, so badly, he didn’t glance back. Not once.

The killer waited.

I’m coming, a**hole.

Her heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. Lora paced the small control room and watched the cops fiddle with their equipment. She watched Davenport call someone, probably Hyde, and tell him that she wanted more tech support, ASAP.

And she heard that bastard’s voice in her head. Over and over.

Do you like the fire, Lora? Do you like the way it burns?