Page 113 of One Last Chance

“Parker Billings is missing. Has been for twelve hours. And we think she’s been taken by the serial killer. Which means our window is closing.”

“On my way.” He hung up, turned, paused, then headed into the hospital room. Because if he were Dodge, he’d want to know that a local girl, and daughter of a friend, was missing.

He was right. Dodge stared at him, at Echo, then, “I’m going with you.”

“Yes, you are,” Echo said and took baby Chase.

“I’ll be in touch.” He kissed Echo and headed out down the hallway.

“You taking the chopper?”

“Yep.” Moose handed Dodge his keys. “Meet you there.”

Because he was going to find Tillie. But first, he was going to find Parker Billings.

Alive.

CHAPTER12

Where are you, Parker?

Flynn stood in the tiny conference room of the Copper Mountain sheriff’s office, staring at the crime board that she’d constructed in the wee hours as the sun cast a shadow over Copper Mountain, then rose again, despite clouds tumbling over the jagged purple mountains.

Now, the sunlight was a blade through the one window in the room, a slice of light across the board, dissecting the map as if God might be trying to tell her something.

Thirteen pins on the board. Thirteen faces down the side, with details of most of them. A handful remained unnamed. All of them with dates of when they’d gone missing, when they were found, and their presumed death, along with orange yarn trailing from their faces to the locations where they were found. And on the other side, a profile of the target. Male, possibly married. She’d put him forties or older. He kidnapped them as if the victims knew him, or at least weren’t threatened by him. A hunter, or maybe just an outdoorsman.

And he’d been hurt by a woman, or women, enough to want to hurt one back.

Please, God, save Parker.Maybe Flynn didn’t have faith, but she neededsomeoneto turn to.

“Moose is flying up from Anchorage,” said Shasta Starr, who’d come in to man the radio. She stood at the doorway of the room, and her eyes widened at Flynn’s board. “What is this?”

“These are all the victims of the Midnight Sun Killer. Where they went missing”—she indicated a point on the road connected by yarn to another push pin—“and this is where they were found.”

Shasta came in and stared at the board, her arms folded. “They were all taken by the Bowie camp road, where it connects to the highway.”

“Some of them. We don’t know where a few of these Jane Does were taken.” Flynn pointed to the yellow push pins.

“They’re unidentified?”

“So far. This one was found wearing my sister’s necklace.” She pointed to a picture of a girl, early twenties, with long dark hair.

Shasta stared at her. “Wait—your sister is an MS Killer vic?”

She didn’t love how Shasta said that, but maybe that had more to do with the way she’d flirted with Axel before. Aw, she should let that thought go.

Wait.Shasta was a reporter, right? “What do you know about the victims?”

“Not much, just the local rumors.” Shasta stepped up to the board. “They were all found on the Copper River. Although this one”—she pointed to the most recent victim, found near the resort—“was quite a ways from the others.”

“It’s a panic kill, which can happen if killers get desperate.” Flynn pointed to a list. “Those are the dates of the finds and their supposed dates of death.”

“There’s a five-year gap between the first two and the others.”

“Yes. Or maybe we’re just missing victims.”

Shasta nodded. “All in June or July.”

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