The computer beeped quietly, the sound taunting to Cam’s ears.

“Hurry it up,” Rafe complained.

Rafe had his arms crossed over his chest as he stood behind Cam.

Everything about his attitude spoke of his irritation. He’d already talked to Laura twice on the radio Nate Wright had given them.

Cam wanted to punch something. Rafe had been on his ass since the second Laura had driven away. Laura hadn’t wanted Rafe to leave him behind, so Rafe was waiting on Cam to get the files he needed.

“I’m going as fast as I can. When was the last time you used dial-up?

Seriously, if we’re staying in this town, we have to do something about the Internet access.”

Rafe stopped and sighed, a long, heavy sound. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I just don’t like this. It feels wrong.” Everything about it felt wrong. It was wrong that someone had been killed in this sleepy little town. It was wrong that Laura was having her life disrupted again.

Cam waved off the apology. It wasn’t needed. He knew why Rafe was edgy. “Did you pull Laura’s profile?” Rafe went to the bed where his briefcase sat and pulled out a fat file folder. “Yes. I’ve gone over it a thousand times. We know he’s an organized killer. He almost never does anything without careful planning. He’s disciplined and well educated.”

“He would have to be to have gotten into the FBI.” Rafe was silent for a moment. “We have all kinds of measures in place to keep something like this from happening. We have to go through testing.”

“All of which a highly-intelligent, highly-motivated person with a deep understanding of psychology could fake his way through.” Those tests weren’t infallible. Nor were the psychiatrists who administered them. “The screening process isn’t perfect. Nothing is.” Rafe leafed through the documents. “This is interesting. She talks about how she thinks the killer will use the media. She labels him as intensely controlling and very interested in what she calls his ‘legacy.’

Sound familiar?”

“Given what we know now, yeah.” It was obvious that the Marquis de Sade had used Jana Evans, probably even telling her what to write, and when she had lost her usefulness, he’d killed her. “Do we know where her cameraman was at the time?” Rafe had talked to Nate, too. “He was in the van. Apparently there weren’t any rooms left, and Jana wasn’t kind enough to let him stay with her. He was on the computer, video chatting with a couple of buddies. They had a satellite connection. Maybe we should break into the news van. Anyway, they have him down at the station giving a statement, but he didn’t hear anything.” Another dead end. But maybe the cameraman knew something about Jana’s source.

The screen changed, and he was in. “Thank god.” Rafe got behind him, blocking out the light from the window.

“What can you tell?”

Impatient bastard. “Nothing yet. I just managed to get in the system. Let me copy the files onto a thumb drive, and we can head to the station. I don’t care what Nate says. I can go through what I found quietly while we watch Laura. I’m done hacking into the server, so the sheriff doesn’t have to worry about me getting him in serious trouble and bringing the feds down on the town. I don’t think we need more feds.”

It was funny how easily he’d slipped into the role of Bliss citizen.

“And you?” Rafe asked. “How much trouble could you get into?” Cam shrugged. “All they’re going to know is the ID on this computer. I’ll dump it after I’m done. I’ll take it apart and toss out the parts. You think I haven’t done this before?” He had. Many times. His fingers flew across the keys now that he’d been granted access. He’d been a snot-nosed, small-town hacker before the feds had swooped in to show him the error of his ways.

He’d given it up for a long time, but in the last few years he’d taken it up again. Now he was damn happy he was up to speed. A nudge here, a nudge there, and he was in. The files started to download. The FBI kept copious files on their employees.

“I have the police report on Edward’s mother’s death.” He scanned the simple report. “It looks like Toyota versus eighteen-wheeler. The mom’s blood alcohol level was over the limit. Other than that, it’s kind of boring. He went to Yale. Top of his class. He’s been a dedicated agent for years. Here’s the complaint Laura filed.

Asshole. He made comments about women in the workplace and how a woman like Laura is really just looking for a husband. I bet that went over like gangbusters with Laura. She left before the complaint could be resolved.” Cam read down the professor’s file until he came to the newest tidbit of information. “He just moved. And listed his emergency contact as a man named Cecil Newberg.” Rafe’s lips curled slightly. “That explains a lot, actually. Good for Edward. And we can eliminate him. He was out of town the night Laura was attacked. I had forgotten, but he left for a convention that night. At least two hundred law enforcement personnel attended a seminar he gave in Atlanta.”

Cam breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to believe that one of his coworkers was capable of this. If he could eliminate the members of his former team, he could move on. He closed the file on Edward and moved on to Brad. “Brad wasn’t at BAU when Laura was attacked.”

Rafe stared over Cam’s shoulder, crowding him just a little. There was only one desk in the motel room, and it was barely large enough to fit the laptop. “Don’t discount him. When he first became my partner, he walked in the door with a file on the Marquis de Sade. He said he was fascinated with the case. He requested the assignment.” Cam pulled up everything he could on Brad Conrad. Star football player. High school valedictorian. On paper, Brad Conrad was the all-American hero. He’d given up his athletic dreams to pursue justice after his high school girlfriend was killed. He’d single-mindedly pursued a career with the FBI. And he’d fought to get on the BAU.

“He found the body,” Cam commented as he read through the information on the girlfriend’s death. The police report listed the case as open, but Cam knew what it really was—cold.

“Yes,” Rafe replied grimly. “He went to her place. Her parents weren’t home. He found her with her throat slit. He talks about it when he gets drunk. I think it’s why none of his marriages worked out. He can’t put another woman above her.”

“Doesn’t fit the MO.” The Marquis would never simply slit a throat. He liked to play with his victims. He spent hours and hours playing with them before he finally put them out of their misery.

“Could be the first one,” Rafe pointed out. “Serial killers perfect their techniques over long periods of time. MOs evolve. This one could be the inciting incident. A crime of passion that led him to more calculated murders.”

Cam looked up at his partner. “You’ve worked close to this guy for the last couple of years.”

Rafe’s eyes tightened, the lines around them becoming more pronounced. “I wouldn’t say close. I worked with him. I had beers with him on Fridays. It wasn’t a close friendship.”

“Still. You’ve spent at least eight hours a day with the man for the last couple of years. Did he give you any indication that something was off?”

“He’s an agent. He works crappy hours for government pay in one of the most stressed-out units in the FBI. Does he have problems?

Hell, yes.” Rafe ran a hand through his hair. “He drinks too much. He sleeps around. He’s got a bad temper.” Well, Cam couldn’t blame the guy for that. He had a bad temper himself. This was going nowhere. He could bring up all kinds of stuff from their past, but it wasn’t hard evidence. Hell, he’d have taken a little soft evidence. But it looked like everyone had some dark secrets.

“I don’t know what I thought I would find in here. I need a board. We need to skip the profiling crap and figure out who was where on the nights of the murders.”

That was something he could use.

Rafe stepped back and started to pace around the small motel room they had checked in to but never used. While Cam had been hacking into systems, Rafe had packed up the few things they had left here on the morning they had checked in. They wouldn’t be coming back here. They would move into Laura’s cabin.

Cam thought of all the things he was going to have to do to make the cabin livable. Locks. Lots of locks. An alarm system. Motion detectors. He might have to buy a guard dog.

God, his heart felt like it would stop every time he thought about the fact that this guy was after his woman. Until he was caught, how was Cam supposed to think about anything else?

“When do you get your gun?” Rafe asked, pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

That was a good question. “As soon as the paperwork is done, but I bet I could convince the sheriff to give me one now. And there can’t be a shortage of shotguns around here. You don’t need a license to carry a shotgun in Colorado. Hell, up here I bet people expect you to carry.”

He would feel better once he had a gun in his hand. For now, Cam felt completely impotent. He couldn’t defend his woman. He couldn’t even figure out who he should defend her against. What use was he?

The least he could do was hurry so she wasn’t alone. Cam trusted Nate. More importantly Laura trusted him, but Cam wouldn’t feel better until she was in his sight.

Cam looked down and made sure he had all the files he planned on taking. He could very cautiously review them at the police station.

Maybe he could piece together some dates from the information. He would hole up in Nate’s office, and Rafe would make sure he wasn’t disturbed while he tried to put together what he needed.