CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Paige watched Cal Sanders’s home, trying to establish if he was there before she and Christopher moved in. It was one of the things they’d taught her in training: that the observation phase of a raid was almost as important as actually making the arrest. This was the phase where they could establish a precise location for a suspect, work out if they were walking into any kind of danger, and plan so that their suspect had no chance of getting away.

Yet there was only so long they could wait and watch. It was getting late. If the killer was going to strike again today, then this might be their last chance to stop him.

For now, doing that meant watching a quiet suburban home that had been extensively renovated so that it wasn’t quite the square, boxy construction of the rest of the street, but instead had been extended well into the yard, suggesting that Cal Sanders had brought his contracting skills to bear on his own home.

“I think you should wait in the car while I make the arrest,” Christopher said, holding the warrant that they’d been able to get based on what Lars Ingram had given them. “I told Agent Podovski that I wouldn’t lead you into danger, and we have no idea what might be in there.”

“That’s why I should be there,” Paige argued. She had no wish to be left behind now, even if it was meant to be for her own safety. She wanted to be a part of this. “You shouldn’t go up against a potential serial killer alone. You need someone to back you up.”

“You haven’t finished your training yet, Paige,” Christopher pointed out.

“I faced up to Adam Riker alone.”

He’d trusted her to do that, but was trying to protect her now?

“All right,” Christopher said. “But you stay close to me. Remember that you’re not armed, so don’t start trying to tackle a man who likes to stab his victims.”

Paige wasn’t planning to do that, but she also wasn’t going to just hang back and leave all of this to Christopher. She could be an extra set of eyes to try to make sure that Cal Sanders didn’t ambush them, at least.

It also meant that she was able to spot a flicker of movement there in one of the upstairs windows.

“He’s in there,” Paige said. “The only question now is how we do this.”

“A guy who’s been in and out of prison will spot me as law enforcement before I make it to the door if I just go up to the front,” Christopher said. “That might give him time to run.”

“So you want to go around the back?” Paige asked.

Christopher shook his head. “Our best chance of grabbing Sanders is at his door. We aren’t in an unfamiliar environment that way, where he might be able to get to a weapon or escape.”

Paige thought she understood then. “You want me to distract him?”

Christopher nodded. “If you’re serious about wanting to help with this. I’ll come in from the side, out of sight of the windows. When I do, I want you to walk up to the door, ring the bell, and get him to answer.”

Paige knew that there were risks in that. If they didn’t time it right, or if Sanders became suspicious, then she could find herself facing off against a serial killer alone for however many seconds it took Christopher to get there.

Yet she also knew that it was the safest way for them to do this, minimizing the chance that Sanders would get away to kill more women or turn this into a running battle. For that, Paige was prepared to take the risk.

“All right,” Paige said. “Let’s do this.”

She got out of the car, moving slowly towards the door of the house, giving Christopher time to hurry around to the side, approaching Cal Sanders ’s property via his neighbor’s yard. Paige watched him move along the side of a garage, and at the same time, she kept moving forward, almost up to the door now.

Her heart was in her mouth as she rang the bell. This had been easy to agree to in the car, but now that she was actually doing it, Paige could feel a thread of fear running through her. Even so, she forced herself to smile.

Paige heard movement from inside, and a few moments later, the door opened, revealing a man in his late thirties, badly shaven and heavily muscled, wearing slacks and a dark sweater. Exactly the kind of thing that might make him less memorable when he was approaching a target.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Cal Sanders?” Paige said, in the brightest, friendliest tone she could manage.

“Who wants to know?”

Christopher answered that one, stepping out into the open with his weapon already raised. “FBI. Don’t move. You’re under arrest.”

To Paige’s surprise, he didn’t try to run then, didn’t try to slam the door in their faces. He didn’t try to fight, although she guessed that the gun pointed at him might have plenty to do with that.

Paige expected a lot of things, but she didn’t expect a resigned sigh from Sanders.