Page 264 of Silent Target

A final image appeared beneath them.

It wasn’t another tourist destination.

It was a woman stepping out of a federal building beneath a cold gray sky. Dark hair moved across her face as she looked toward the street. A leather bag hung from one shoulder, and an FBI identification card was clipped to her coat.

Someone had drawn a red circle over her chest.

A name appeared beneath the photograph.

SPECIAL AGENT KATE COLLINS

Then came the final message.

SHE SEES THE PATTERN.

The screen went black.

Outside, gunfire erupted along the dock.

61

KATE

Someone had followed me home three nights in a row.

The first night, I told myself it was a coincidence.

The second night, I changed my route twice and watched the same black sedan make both turns behind me.

On the third, it stopped pretending.

I stepped out of the federal building into a bitter wind and felt the warning move across my skin before I saw the car.

It waited across the street.

Black sedan. Tinted windows. Maryland plates.

The same vehicle from the previous night.

I didn’t look directly at it. People revealed more when they believed they hadn’t been noticed. I adjusted the leather bag on my shoulder and continued toward the parking garage.

The sedan remained where it was.

That didn’t make me feel better.

I’d spent twelve years studying violent offenders. Predators didn’t always chase. Sometimes they waited for their target to enter a place where no one would hear the first scream.

I pressed the button on my key fob.

My SUV responded from the second level of the garage.

Forty yards.

Two security cameras.

One guard stationed at the entrance.

The sedan’s engine started behind me.