The Naturals, Book 2: Killer Instinct (4 page)

“Did you know that the average life span of the hairy-nosed wombat is ten to twelve years?” Apparently, Sloane had decided that when I said I was fine, I was lying. The more coffee
my roommate ingested, the lower her threshold for keeping random statistics to herself—especially if she thought someone needed a distraction.

“The longest-living wombat in captivity lived thirty-four years,” Sloane continued, propping herself up on her elbows to look at me. Given that we shared a bedroom, I probably should
have objected more strenuously to cup of coffee number two. Tonight, though, I found Sloane’s high-speed statistical babbling to be strangely soothing. Profiling Sterling hadn’t kept me
from thinking about Locke.

Maybe this would.

“Tell me more about wombats,” I said.

With the look of a small child awaking to a miracle on Christmas morning, Sloane beamed at me and complied.

YOU

You were nervous the first time you saw her, standing beside the big oak tree, long hair shining to halfway down her back. You asked what her name was. You memorized
everything about her.

But none of that matters now. Not her name. Not the tree. Not your nerves.

You’ve come too far. You’ve waited too long.

“She’ll fight you if you let her,” a voice whispers from somewhere in your mind.

“I won’t let her,” you whisper back. Your throat is dry. You’re ready. You’ve been ready. “I’ll tie her up.”

“Bind her,” the voice whispers.

Bind her. Brand her. Cut her. Hang her.

That’s the way this has to be done. That’s what awaits this girl. She shouldn’t have parked so far away from the man’s building. She shouldn’t have slept with
him in the first place.

Shouldn’t.

Shouldn’t.

Shouldn’t.

You’re waiting for her in the car when she climbs in. You’re prepared. She has a test today, but so do you.

She shuts the car door. Her eyes flit toward the rearview mirror, and for a split second, they meet yours.

She sees you.

You lunge forward. Her mouth opens to scream, but you slam the damp cloth over her mouth, her nose. “She’ll fight you if you let her,” you say, whispering the words like
sweet nothings in her ear.

Her body goes slack. You pull her into the backseat and reach for the ties.

Bind them. Brand them. Cut them. Hang them.

It has begun.

I
slept until noon and woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all. My head ached. I needed food. And caffeine. And possibly some Tylenol.

“Rough night?” Judd asked the second I stepped foot in the kitchen. He had a sharpened number two pencil in his hand and filled in a line on his crossword puzzle without ever looking
up at me.

“You could say that,” I replied. “Have you met Agent Sterling?”

Judd’s lips twitched slightly. “You could say that,” he said, parroting my own words back at me.

Judd Hawkins was in his sixties. His official job description involved both looking after the house and looking after us. The house was in excellent condition. As for the five teenagers who
lived here…well, other than making sure we were fed and our limbs were kept relatively intact, Judd was pretty hands-off.

“Agent Sterling seems to think she’s moving in,” I commented. Judd filled in another line on his crossword. If he was bothered by the fact that an FBI agent had shown up, more
or less unannounced, he didn’t show it. “Can she even do that?” I asked.

Judd finally looked up from his puzzle. “If she were anyone else,” he said, “the answer would be no.”

Given that Agent Sterling had come here at her father’s request, I understood that there probably wasn’t anything Judd could do about it. What I didn’t understand was why Judd
didn’t seem to
want
to do anything about it. She was here to write an evaluation of the program. She’d called it damage control, but from where I was sitting, it seemed more like
an invasion.

“Good. You’re up.”

Speak of the devil, and she appears,
I thought. Then I stopped myself. I wasn’t being objective—or fair. I was judging Agent Sterling based more on what I thought she
would
do than anything she’d done already. Deep down, I knew that no matter who they’d sent to replace Locke, I wouldn’t have been ready. Every similarity was salt in an
open wound. Every difference was, too.

“Do you always make it a practice to sleep until noon?” Agent Sterling asked, cocking her head to the side and giving me the once-over. Since I couldn’t make her stop studying
me, I returned the favor. She was wearing makeup, but didn’t look made up. Like the clear coat of polish on her nails, the colors she’d chosen for her eyes and lips looked almost
natural.

I wondered how much effort it took her to look that effortlessly perfect.

If you want to get close to an UNSUB,
I could practically hear Locke telling me,
don’t say
she
or
her
. Say
you.

“You spent the night here?” I asked Sterling, rolling that over in my mind.
Locke never slept here. Briggs doesn’t. You don’t do things halfway.

“There’s a pullout sofa in the study,” Judd told me, sounding mildly disgruntled. “I offered her my room, but Miss Stubborn refused to take it.”

Miss Stubborn?
Before working for the Naturals program, Judd had been career military. I’d never heard him refer to any FBI agent by anything other than their title or last name. So
why was he referring to Agent Sterling in the exact same tone I would have expected him to use with Lia?

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Judd.” The twinge of exasperation in Agent Sterling’s voice told me they’d already had this argument at least twice.

“Sit down,” Judd grunted in return. “Both of you. Cassie hasn’t had anything to eat today, and I can make two sandwiches as easy as one.”

“I can make my own sandwich,” I said. Judd gave me a look. I sat. This was a side of him I hadn’t seen before. In a strange way, he almost reminded me of my very Italian
grandmother, who thought I was off at some kind of progressive, government-sponsored gifted program. Nonna considered the putting of food in bellies one of her major missions in life, and woe be to
the unfortunate soul who stood in her way.

“I already made myself a sandwich,” Agent Sterling said stiffly.

Judd made two sandwiches anyway. He slid one in front of me and put the other in front of an empty spot at the table before sitting down and resuming his crossword. He didn’t say a word,
and after a long moment, Agent Sterling sat.

“Where are the others?” I asked Judd. Usually, I couldn’t spend five minutes in the kitchen without Lia coming in to swipe some ice cream, or Michael helping himself to food
off my plate.

Agent Sterling was the one who answered. “Michael hasn’t made an appearance yet. Dean, Lia, and Sloane are in the living room, taking a practice GED.”

I almost choked on a bite of ham. “A what?”

“It’s September,” Agent Sterling replied, in that too-calm tone that I imagined made her very good at interrogating suspects. “If you weren’t a part of this
program, you’d be in school. In fact, I’m fairly certain your family was told that you would be receiving schooling here. Some people might be willing to let that slide. I’m
not.”

I got the distinct feeling that when Agent Sterling said “some people” she was talking about Agent Briggs, not Judd.

“You’re lucky enough to have a family who might actually check up on your schooling someday,” she continued. “Not everyone in this house is so fortunate, but you will
all
receive the education you were promised.” Her eyes flicked over to Judd, then back to me. “Dean and Lia have been homeschooled here for years. If Judd’s done his job
right, they should be able to pass the GED. I’m not concerned about Sloane.”

That just left Michael and me. If it hadn’t been for the program, I would have started my senior year in high school this month.

“Take the practice test,” Sterling ordered in an offhand way that told me she was used to being obeyed. “If you need a tutor, we’ll get you a tutor, but either way, the
other aspects of your…
education
can wait.”

In the time since I’d joined the program, I’d forgotten that there was a type of learning that didn’t involve the ins and outs of the criminal brain.

“Can I be excused?” I pushed back from the table.

Judd gave me an amused look. “You ever asked me that before?”

I took that as an answer and started for the door. Judd finished his crossword and turned his attention to Agent Sterling. “You going to eat your sandwich, Ronnie?”

Ronnie?
My eyebrows shot into my hairline, and I slowed my exit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Agent Sterling stiffen slightly at the nickname.

“It’s Veronica,” she said. “Or it’s Agent Sterling. In this house, it has to be.”

They know each other,
I thought.
They’ve known each other for a very long time.

It occurred to me then that Director Sterling might have chosen his daughter for this assignment for reasons other than the fact that she shared his blood.

I made it to the kitchen door just as it swung inward, nearly knocking me off my feet. Agent Briggs stood on the other side, looking like he’d just stepped off a plane. He reached out to
steady me, but his gaze was directed elsewhere.

“Ronnie.”

“Briggs,” Agent Sterling returned, very pointedly not using his first name or any abbreviation thereof. “I assume the director briefed you.”

Briggs inclined his head slightly. “You could have called.”

I was right,
I thought.
They’ve definitely worked together before.

“Cassie.” Agent Briggs seemed to remember that his hands were on my shoulders, and he dropped them. “I see you’ve met Agent Sterling.”

“We met last night.” I studied Briggs, looking for some hint that he resented the intrusion this woman represented. “How’s Mackenzie?” I asked.

Briggs smiled—a rare enough event in itself. “She’s home. She’ll need a lot of support going forward, but she’ll make it. The kid’s a survivor.” He
turned his attention back to Agent Sterling. “The Naturals program just closed its second cold case this month,” he told her. “A child abduction.”

There it was—the hint that Agent Briggs had no intention of ceding his authority to the newcomer. His words were designed to communicate one message, very clearly: He didn’t
need
to feel threatened. The Naturals program was working. We were saving lives.

“Impressive,” Agent Sterling said, her tone making it clear that she thought it was anything but. “Especially considering that only two children have been hospitalized because
of this program and, really, only one of them was actually shot, so clearly, that all just comes out in the wash.”

Two children—Michael and Dean. I opened my mouth to tell Agent Sterling that we weren’t
children
, but Briggs shot me a warning look. “Cassie, why don’t you go see
what the others are doing?”

He might as well have said “Why don’t you run outside and play?” Annoyed, I obeyed. When I made it to the living room, I wasn’t surprised to see that the only one
actually taking a practice GED was Dean. Lia was filing her nails. Sloane appeared to be constructing some kind of catapult out of pencils and rubber bands.

Lia caught sight of me first. “Good morning, sunshine,” she said. “I’m no Michael, but based on the expression on your face, I’m guessing you’ve been spending
some quality time with the lovely Agent Sterling.” Lia beamed at me. “Isn’t she the best?”

The eerie thing about Lia was that she could make anything sound genuine. Lia wasn’t fond of the FBI in general, and she was the type to flout rules based on principle alone, but even
knowing her enthusiasm was feigned, I couldn’t see through it.

“There’s something about that Agent Sterling that just makes me want to listen to what she has to say,” Lia continued earnestly. “I think we might be soul
mates.”

Dean snorted, but didn’t look up from his practice test. Sloane set off her catapult, and I had to duck to keep from taking a pencil to the forehead.

“Agent Briggs is back,” I said once I’d straightened.

“Thank God.” Lia dropped the act and slumped back against the sofa. “Though if anyone tells him I said that, I’ll be forced to take drastic measures.”

I truly did not want to know what Lia’s idea of “drastic measures” entailed.

“Briggs knows Agent Sterling,” I announced. “So does Judd. They call her Ronnie.”

“Dean,” Lia said, drawing out his name in a way specifically designed to annoy him. “Stop pretending to work and tell us what you know.”

Dean ignored her. Lia raised an eyebrow at me. Clearly, she thought I’d have better luck at getting him to talk than she would.

“Agent Sterling was a part of the team that took down your dad, wasn’t she?” I said, testing out my theory. “She was Briggs’s partner.”