Compromised Security

“Are you saying that you believe me? That the Judge isn’t dead?”

An unspoken moment passed between them. Two years ago, they had been on opposite sides of this question. She accused him of being obsessed and depressed. He accused her of being disloyal for not believing in him.

“This time,” he said, “we’re working together.”

“God help me, I guess so. Right now I need to file a report, and I’m not sure what I should say.”

“We’re looking for the Judge. Again.”

“Nobody is going to believe me. I’ll sound like a lunatic.”

“Welcome to my world.”

When he grinned, his lips were so appealing that she considered dumping the entire investigation, grabbing him by both shoulders and kissing him until they were both limp.

“Ideas,” she said instead. “I need ideas.”

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Robin D. Owens, who listens to me whine.

And, as always, to Rick.

For Cassie Miles, the best part about writing a story set in Eagle County near the Vail ski area is the ready-made excuse to head into the mountains for research. Though the winter snows are great for skiing, her favorite season is fall, when the aspens turn gold.

The rest of the time, Cassie lives in Denver where she takes urban hikes around Cheesman Park, reads a ton and critiques often. Her current plans include a Vespa and a road trip, despite eye-rolling objections from her adult children.

Flynn O’Conner—FBI special agent who transferred to the Mesa Verde safe house after a near breakdown while investigating serial killer murders in San Francisco.

Marisa Kelso—Also from the San Francisco FBI office, the former lover of Flynn O’Conner keeps her past secrets hidden, and prefers desk work to field investigation.

Hank MacKenzie—Senior FBI agent in charge of the manhunt.

Grace Lennox—A gray-haired judge who is a protected witness at the Mesa Verde safe house.

“Bud” Rosetti—A snitch who is also under FBI protection.

Jonas Treadwell—A psychiatrist specializing in criminal psychology working with the FBI to profile the killer.

William Graff—The wealthy, powerful father of Russell Graff, a prior suspect. William is determined to clear his son’s name.

Eric Crowe—An antiquities dealer in Taos who specializes in occult and Native American objects.

Becky Delaney—Eric Crowe’s assistant.

Alexander Sterling—Renowned forensic anthropologist who unlocks the secrets of the bones.

The Judge—Legendary serial killer from the San Francisco area who is now active in the Mesa Verde area.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

From the porch of the safe house, Special Agent Flynn O’Conner spotted a helicopter approaching from the south. A distant speck in the clear, blue Colorado skies above this wide valley, the chopper came steadily closer, signaling the beginning of the end. Damn it, he didn’t want to leave this place.

After two years supervising the Mesa Verde safe house, Flynn had established a satisfying routine of daily chores and witness protection procedures. Being here had healed him.

Pushing his Stetson back on his forehead, he nodded a greeting to Grace Lennox, one of the witnesses under his protection. She stepped up to the porch rail beside him. A handsome woman with a long gray braid, Grace Lennox was a judge under threat from an organized crime ring back East. “Beautiful afternoon,” she said.

“June is a good time of year.”

“I want to thank you, Agent O’Conner, for everything you’ve done.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s been a rough week.”

“That’s one hell of an understatement, Grace.”

His well-run safe house had been thrown into turmoil when a serial killer had come after a witness. The resulting breach of security threatened to shut down this operation. The helicopter was coming to take Grace Lennox and the other remaining protected witness, a seedy little snitch by the name of Richard “Bud” Rosetti, to a more secure location.

Also on board the chopper was the agent who would assess the situation and make recommendations for the future of Flynn’s safe house. An evaluator.

“I sincerely hope,” Grace said, “that this facility won’t be closed down.”

“So do I.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

The rambling two-story farmhouse and nearby bunkhouse filled with surveillance equipment were no longer safe for protected witnesses, but Flynn hoped the site could be turned into a field headquarters, or a training facility. Somehow he had to convince the evaluator that the site was still useful.

“Nonetheless,” Grace continued in her crisp, nononsense voice, “you must be pleased by the outcome. Your serial killer is no longer a threat to anyone. That ought to give you some satisfaction.”