Free 01 Only Fear by Anne Marie Becker

Levine.”
    David cleared his throat from the doorway. “People, it’s almost eleven o’clock. Let’s get moving.”
    Maggie found Becca’s worried gaze on her and gave a nod of encouragement. Becca took up a post by the door like a sentry. She would be watching. And listening.
    David gave her the usual cue through the glass. “Good evening, Chicago,” Maggie began as she took her seat. “Welcome to Live with Levine . Tonight, our focus is depression.” She intentionally left out any comments about yesterday’s brief discussion of fear. Sensing Owen would like credit for his stunt—to put it mildly—she refused to acknowledge it at all, hoping it would push him to call in. Now the waiting game began.
    Several minutes later, when David gave the signal that Owen had called, then held up two fingers to indicate which line he was on, Maggie ignored the hitch in her breathing. Showtime.

Chapter Four
    The pungent scent of candles burning in the small alcove off the main church filled Damian Manchester’s nostrils. His knees ached, but he forced his brain to ignore the pain. He still had a lot of praying to make up for, but he and God had come to an understanding several years ago.
    Damian didn’t blame God anymore for the horrors of the world, and God helped him destroy monsters.
    And there was no doubt about it, monsters walked the earth. Twenty years ago, one had stolen his thirteen-year-old daughter away.
    Shifting his weight from one knee to the other, he mentally recited the Lord’s Prayer, letting the pain remind him that he was still alive. His daughter was not. And someone had yet to pay for his trespasses.
    Deliver us from evil, amen.
    When, years after his daughter’s abduction, Damian had finally emerged from a haze of hate and despair, he had set about using his money and his mind toward something worthwhile, creating an organization populated by the best of the best. The Society for the Study of the Aberrant Mind had been founded in his daughter’s memory. Its mission was to catch the worst, most violent offenders of society by working with law enforcement and various other special groups. In the twelve years it had been running, the SSAM team had managed to put numerous killers behind bars. In the meantime, the organization had started programs to educate the public and law enforcement officials in an effort to protect more innocents.
    Innocents like Samantha.
    The thought of his daughter brought the familiar itchiness to his throat and tightness to his chest. Damian focused on the throbbing in his knees instead, offering up the pain for his daughter.
    The gentle sound of high heels clicking against marble resounded in the empty church, but he didn’t turn. He knew that sound, and knew to whom those footsteps belonged. After all, she was the only one who would dare to approach him when he got like this.
    “You know this isn’t our guy.” Lorena Castro’s slim form took another step into the alcove and came to stand beside his small pew. “Fearmonger isn’t Sam’s killer.”
    The sound of his daughter’s nickname spoken aloud was a painful echo in his heart, but it was no longer the agonizing black void that had once pressed on his chest day and night. It had only taken a couple decades to numb himself to that.
    Ignoring the creaking of stiff joints as he shifted to a sitting position on the bench, a rush of tiny pinpricks traveled down his legs as the blood flow resumed. He sat back, sliding over to make room for Lorena.
    “You’re sure he’s not the same guy.” He’d already come to the same conclusion. The killer’s signature, the way he performed a crime to meet his deviant needs, didn’t match that of Sam’s killer. But hearing the confirmation from his senior mindhunter didn’t make the knowledge any easier to take.
    Lorena’s slender fingers wrapped around the fist he’d unconsciously formed on his thigh. “About as sure as I can be in this business. The crime scenes just