Free Decoherence by Liana Brooks

Sam’s latest case was spread over everything like an encroaching coral. He’d been trying to stay out of it. Someone had told him years ago that spouses needed their own hobbies, but . . .
    He took a bite of his sandwich and sat down to see how Agent Parker was doing.
    Poor guy. Sam hadn’t even had time to train her replacement before she was swept away by the CBI and given a promotion to keep her from telling anyone what they’d found.
    His assignment to Chicago had been more of the same.
    Parker had identified four victims so far: Elissa Morez, Jane Doe, Amanda Leyvas, and Carolina Avalos. And there was an e-­mail from Florida District 20, south of Lake City, Florida: Leigh Locklear, a nineteen-­year-­old massage therapist who had moved to Tampa to work for a cruise line. That made no sense. She fit the phenotype the killer preferred, but Tampa? That was just too far away from anything. And she didn’t have a car.
    So how did she get from Tampa to Lake City?
    Mac was mapping trucking routes when Sam walked in. “Hi.”
    â€œWhat are you doing up?” She looked a little frazzled, her usually neat hair escaping from her bun and her white work shirt stained with something yellow. “Do you know what time it is?”
    â€œNot really, no.” He smiled. “How was the trip?”
    â€œWendy paid me double when I told her I was never coming back.” She dropped her bag by the table and sat down. “I’m still never going back again. I spent more time trying to keep a drunk tourist from grabbing my butt than I did cooking.”
    Mac raised an eyebrow. He knew better than to storm off and coldcock a tourist, but if Sam wanted it, the man would be in a body bag by sunup.
    â€œIt’s fine, Mac,” Sam said, clearly seeing the murderous look in his eye. “I did the thumb hold you showed me, and told him if he didn’t leave me alone, I’d feed him to the sharks. He spent the rest of the cruise hiding in a guest room.”
    He smiled. “Good.”
    â€œSo, what are you doing?”
    â€œDigging through the CBI travel database to see if any trucker visited all these areas.”
    â€œAnd?” She sat down beside him.
    â€œNothing. I don’t think the killer was using the main travel routes.”
    She pillowed her arms on the table and laid her head down. “So . . . what? There’s no connecting the victims. I’ve tried every angle I can think of. There’s no rhyme or reason for why these victims were picked.”
    â€œExcept for the physical similarities,” he said.
    â€œYeah. But it’s so superficial!” She sat up, and he saw a familiar look of annoyance. The criminals were doing it WRONG by golly, and his beautiful wife wasn’t having it. She paused. “What? You’re grinning.”
    â€œI was just thinking of what would happen if you ever turned to a life of crime.” It would be glorious watching her storm across a continent beating henchmen into line.
    â€œI wouldn’t do that!”
    â€œYou might want to consider it as a future career option. You’d make an amazing crime boss.”
    â€œI’d tell everyone to follow the law.”
    â€œCrime boss, politician, they’re so similar. Plus, we’d get henchmen.”
    Sam giggled. “Henchmen? And wait—­ we ?”
    â€œI’m your loyal second-­in-­command.”
    She hit his shoulder. “All right. Did you find anything helpful?”
    He turned the map so she could see. “Amanda Leyvas, lived in rural Alabama and worked as a middle school teacher. She didn’t come back to school after spring break. When her coworker went to check on her, they found her body lying next to her car, dead and cold. The police found nothing. There was a speed trap less than a mile from her house in both directions. Leyvas hadn’t left her house since midweek, and no other