Chapter One
(December 19, 2002)
Was it possible to fall in love with someone just by reading their FBI case files?
The question plagued Devon Wallace as she grabbed dinner at the deli down the street from the FBI building. Her eyes hurt, her hand was cramped, and what she really wanted was some nice, ever-so-long alone time with Vin. Was that too much to ask?
She grabbed some Tylenol on her way out of the mini-drugstore/deli. She hadn’t seen Vin in three days, ever since those pop-star boys had entered her territory, and become a major pain in her ass. And though Vin could give her pleasure like no other, she ignored him, focused all her attention on this case.
Having been over the details more times than she could count, there was something about the case that kept bringing her back, though she had long since finished with the files, and should have turned them over to Hard Records by now. Devon was unsure whether it was the fact that the hairs on the back of her neck jumped up every time she reread the facts of the case or if it was the handsome 26-year-old whose picture stared at her every time the folder fell open on her desk. Which happened a lot, she had to admit.
But there was something about JC Chasez that kept drawing her back to the folder. She had read more notes on him since the boys had relocated to Reno, Nevada for the Christmas holidays three days ago than she had read on most criminals from their records that passed through her office. She supposed that it had something to do with the Bass kidnappings being so public, that the FBI took this ever so seriously. It was almost like the Lindbergh kidnapping from the early 20th century.
Except there was something about this guy, the Cougar, something purely evil. He wanted to toy with the members of *NSYNC. He obviously knew how attached they were to the little boy, and played on this fact, tortured them.
Meandering back to her desk, in the cramped, closet-size office of the FBI Transferors, she opened the first case file yet again. The note from the October kidnapping stared up at her. It had been left on the pillow, where little Gregory Bass had been sleeping. It had been found somewhere between one and three hours after the child had been taken.
Isn’t it funny how attached we become?
And isn’t it funny how these attachments can be ripped apart?
Funny. Yes.
Amusing. Yes.
What cat doesn’t enjoy their little mouse?
--The Cougar
Shivers crept quickly down Devon’s spine as she reread the copy of the note found in Gregory’s Denver hotel room that morning. From what the Denver FBI office had been able to figure out, the Cougar had lowered himself from the balcony of the room above Bass’. Used a glass cutter. Slipped in as easily and silently as a cat. Never disturbed the nanny sleeping next to the boy. The bodyguard in the hotel hallway never heard a sound. When Lance Bass had returned to the room at the end of his concert, the boy had been gone.
The October kidnapping played out almost exactly as the February kidnapping had played out in Japan. A week after the disappearance, with the FBI and the local police forces unable to find even a trace of where he had gone, they had received an anonymous tip. And found the sleeping two-year-old exactly where the man had said he would be, in a nearby motel room. None the worse for the wear. No physical or psychological damage. And just like in Japan, unable to tell them anything about the man who had kept him in the room for the past week. There were no fingerprints, no hair samples, nothing. Just another note.
Is it still funny?
I think so.
Fun.
Until I see you again, Gregory, sleep well.
And I will see you again.
The child will sleep well.
Will you, Daddy?
--The Cougar
Yet, as much as the Cougar’s notes gave her the creeps, it was the Special Agents’ notes that drew her back to this first folder over and over again. Notes on the father of the child and his friends. Or, more specifically, his friend. JC.
Good Lord, there had to be something wrong with her! How could she fall for a guy who only existed in print for her? But it was true, as embarrassing as it was to admit.
The Special Agents had noticed everything about these guys when the pop band had met with the Las Vegas branch. For the little over a week that the band would be filming their Christmas special and their Christmas concert out at Lake Tahoe, and staying at a resort outside of Reno, they would be in Vegas’ territory. And the FBI was nothing if not meticulous with details and paperwork.
Devon groaned just thinking about the day and a half that she had spent transferring all the different Agent’s and officials’ notes into the Las Vegas database, catching the occasional nap on the office couch. Whoo hoo. What a glorified job she had! She had joined the FBI Support Team in an effort to escape her grandmother’s myths and legends, wanting to catch the evil doers with facts and truth.
Yeah. Right. She was nothing more than a high-security secretary. In another ten years, she might be transferred, promoted to a real secretarial job. Yay, even more to look forward to.
But at times like this, she didn’t mind her job so much, she mused as she browsed through the handwritten notes once again. JC’s name jumped out at her like a freaking flashing-red light. He played with the hemp necklace around his neck when he was agitated, as he often became when discussing the kidnappings. He’d been the one to put a strength-giving hand on Lance’s shoulder when the father had gotten emotional. He had been the one to finish for Lance when the younger man could no longer speak about those terror-filled nights in Japan or Denver.
JC had a fascination with water. It was such an odd note for an Agent to make that Devon had reread it three times, and got her fellow Transfer personnel and best friend, Melinia, to double-check it. But sure enough. Apparently, JC had discussed taking the child to the beach for Christmas. He found the water more soothing than the mountains.
He wasn’t superstitious (Ooh! Big bonus right there!). He didn’t believe in the boogey-man; he knew that the Cougar was an evil man, but a flesh-and-blood man nonetheless. He was wary about putting all his faith in the FBI. And though no one was sure that the Cougar would even strike again, and many of the FBI Agents were doubtful with the security as pumped up as it was, JC KNEW that he would.
That was probably the thing that Devon liked the most about him, right there! He didn’t care what others assumed, didn’t care if they thought he was being an overprotective uncle, didn’t care if the FBI thought it was silly to keep the security as beefed as it was. He knew what he believed and didn’t back down. Devon sighed. Yup, that right there did it for her.
“Oh, my God, Dev, you have got to be kidding me!”
Devon turned as red as her t-shirt as Melinia came in, saw her co-worker sighing over this guy yet again, and slammed the case file shut. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist.” Devon threw her head down on the desk miserably. Ugh! She was nothing more than a teeny reading a magazine!
Melinia dropped herself onto the cheap, disgustingly-green-colored couch that took up a third of their mini-office. She grabbed one of the carrot sticks from Devon’s instant salad and shook it at her. “I’d be worried about you and this obsession, if I didn’t know that Vin was more than enough to keep you pleasured at home.”
“I haven’t seen Vin for three days.”
“Devon! You said you were gonna go home after I left last night,” Melinia scolded.
“I know, I know. But there’s something about the Cougar, something that’s bothering me about this case. I reread everything through again after you left and figured I was better off sleeping and showering here than in trying to make it back to my apartment.”
“Devon, that’s what the Special Agents are trained for. We, you and me, we’re trained for typing.”
Giving Melinia a look, Devon looked down at the closed case file on her desk. “You cannot tell me that with your criminology degree from UCLA that you don’t analyze as you type.”
Melinia had the grace to look a little embarrassed as she admitted, “Well, yeah, I do. But we’re never gonna come across anything that the Agents or the computers haven’t already.”
“I know. It’s just that…” Devon trailed off as she tried to explain. “Did you know I had the instinct? HAVE the instinct that MAKES an Agent as good as he is? Unfortunately, the Bureau dudes weren’t too interested in an Agent who refused to carry a gun.”
“Imagine that.”
“But there’s something about this case, and I’m not talking about JC. Something about the Cougar that’s making everything kick into overdrive. Something about this case that bothers me…”
Melinia snorted. “Yeah, it bothers you enough to keep you away from Vin. Not much can do that!”
“I know! You know, it’s gotten even better between us since I bought satin sheets? I never thought of myself as a satin girl, but something about mixing Vin and satin…” Devon licked her lips.
Rolling her eyes, Melinia looked at Devon sadly. “I don’t suppose you even realize how odd it is that you named your bed Vin and treat him like he’s your significant other.”
Devon tilted her head, looking for all the world as though she was in deep contemplation. “Nope. It seems perfectly normal to me. Vin gives me more pleasure in eight hours than any boyfriend or mere mortal man could manage to give. Vin is all about the pleasure.”
Melinia shook her head. “You’re a very disturbed person, has anyone ever told you that.”
Throwing her a fake, sunny smile, Devon nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. Lots of times. It’s probably the real reason they never considered me for a Special Agent position.”
“You with your psychology degree. You ever considered analyzing yourself instead of those notes you’ve been reading over and over again for the past few days?”
A chill passed over Devon yet again as she glanced down at the file on her desk, then let her gaze stray to the ten or so other files littering the floor around the office, all on the Bass kidnappings, most of them having to do with the national office, the Denver office, or the Orlando office. “This case doesn’t give you goosebumps?”
Melinia sat up as she grabbed a file off the floor, idly flipping through it. “Of course it gives me the creeps. I mean, this guy is playing some sick cat-and-mouse game with these people. Sometimes he takes the boy, sometimes he just leaves a cougar figurine outside the boy’s play-pen, just to show how easy it is for him to get to the little boy. This guy is one sick bastard. Yeah, it’s creepy.”
“No,” Devon said, shaking her head as she wandered towards the window, the one redeeming quality about their itty-bitty office. “It’s different from just a creepy sicko. It’s that…chill you get when someone’s in the room. When someone’s watching you. That warning chill.”
“I dunno, girl. Maybe it’s just the full moon making you feel that way.”
Devon’s whole body stilled as the chill moved through her at lightning speed. She looked up at the sky, knowing what she would see.
“Blood moon,” she whispered. The blood moon. When the evil sorcerer’s power was at it’s peak, according to her grandmother. Bad things happened when there was a blood moon. Her mother had killed herself during a blood moon. Her grandmother’s car accident had been during a blood moon. Her last boyfriend had broken up with her on October 21. During a blood moon.
“October 21.”
“What?” Melinia asked, sensing the difference that had come over her co-worker.
“Shit, Melinia! That’s when he hits! The blood moon!” That’s what it was. That’s when the Cougar came out!
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Devon grabbed her arm, pulling her to the window. “Look. Look at the moon. What do you see?”
“I don’t know. The moon?”
“Around the moon!”
“You mean the reddish-purple circle? What about it?”
“When it’s red, it’s called a blood moon. I grew up hearing stories about how bad things happen when there’s a blood moon.”
“Okay. Yeah. Price of tea in China?”
Devon blinked. “Huh?” Another thought occurred to her. Her body froze. “What day is it?”
“Today? It’s the 19. Maybe you’ve been staying at the office for a little bit too long if you can’t remember that much…”
“Oh, shit, Melinia! That’s a full moon tonight! No no no no no no! It’s December. The black month.”
“Devon. You’re scaring me. What are you mumbling about?”
Devon turned slowly. “Black month. Full moon. A purple ring that even we can see through the lights of Vegas. This is what he’s been waiting for!”
She pushed past Melinia and grabbed the phone off her desk, hitting the speed dial for her superior. It started to ring.
“Devon, would you tell me what’s going on?” Melinia asked, standing on the other side of Devon’s desk, having noticed which number Devon had hit. “Why are you calling Melovidov?”
Making a motion with her hand to shush her, Devon heard the phone picked up at the other end. The bubble-gum smacking secretary at the twenty-four hour main desk said, “Federal Bureau of Investigation, Las Vegas. How can I help you?”
“Felicia? This is Devon down in Transfers. I need to speak to Agent Melovidov, right now.”
“Who?”
Devon closed her eyes, praying for patience. “Melovidov.”
“No, who’s this?”
Lord save her from idiots. “This is Devon Wallace. It’s an emergency, I need Melovidov.”
“Oh, hey, Devon. How’s Vin doing?”
“Felicia. Melovidov. Can you please transfer me!”
“Sorry, Dev, he’s casing out the BlackJack Casino. There’s a raid going down tonight, you know.”
Godammit all to hell! “Okay, what about Larson?”
“You wanna talk to the head of the LV FBI? Sorry, no can do. I don’t even know where he is.”
“Felicia…this is important. It’s about the Bass kidnappings. Is there anyone in the department tonight that I can talk to?”
“Not really.” Devon could almost see the girl shrugging on the other end of the phone. “Everyone who’s anyone wants a piece of the raid tonight. They won’t be back till early morning, most likely. If it’s about the Bass case though, you could try calling to Reno. They got a twenty-four hour line at the Resident Agency office up there.”
Devon scribbled down the number as Felicia reeled it off. “Thanks.” She hung up the phone, glancing at her desk clock. 6:47 pm. No telling what time the Cougar would hit the pop group tonight. And Devon had no doubt that it would be tonight. All the pieces fit. Keeping track of blood moons and blue moons and the like was something that she’d grown up doing. She never thought about it anymore. But all the dates fit!
“Devon? What the hell is going on?”
Punching in the numbers for Reno, Devon glanced up at her near-frantic fellow Transferor. “He’s following the Wiccan calendar of the moons. The full moons are when he strikes. And December is the dark month of the year. With a purple ring around the moon, which almost never happens. I think he’s done playing with his mouse. I think he’s gonna finish this game. And he’s going to do it tonight!”
“Oh boy.” Melinia sank into her desk chair. All this moon stuff and Wicca was kinda creepy.
Devon breathed a sigh of relief as the phone was picked up. It was short-lived. “Hello, you’ve reached the Reno Resident Agency twenty-four hour tip line.”
She was going to kill Felicia! “Hi, this is Devon Wallace with the LV FBI. I need to speak to the Special Agent in Charge for the Bass case.”
“Oh? Why didn’t you call straight through?”
What, was the man irritated that he’d been interrupted from his boring night life? “Because, this was the number I was given.”
“I’m sorry, I’m unable to connect you with the Agent in Charge. If you have a tip, I can pass it on for you.”
Shit. She was about to be given the run-around again. “Fine. Listen, the Cougar is coming out tonight. The moon is full, it’s a blood moon, and it’s the black month of December. He’s going to finish his game tonight. He’s done playing; this is the exact time he’s been waiting for. It’s going to happen tonight.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Click.
Devon threw the phone against its base.
Melinia sat in her chair, chewing on her lip. “The hotline?”
Sinking into her own chair, Devon rubbed her temples. “Yes. God, I only hope the idiot boy will know to pass it on.”
“Dev, I’ve been thinking while you’ve been on the phone. Do you even realize how many tips they must be getting over this case? It’s so highly publicized, no doubt all the crazies are calling stuff in. Combine that with a million and one teenies trying to help out their idol with whatever info they think could be useful…they’re not going to get to your tip anytime soon.”
Devon growled, “But it’s not just a tip. I’m telling you, I can feel it. It’s going to happen tonight.”
“Yeah, I believe you. But they won’t. We’ve both read this case through, file to file. They’re looking for precision. An intelligent, educated, resourceful man. Not someone following Wiccan traditions.”
“He’s not Wiccan,” Devon answered, sure that anyone bent on kidnapping and hurting others wasn’t exactly of the Wiccan faith. “He’s just following their moon calendar and some of the superstitions attached. Maybe he’s superstitious. Maybe he thinks when there’s a blood moon, he’s unstoppable. Undetectable. Invincible.”
“He’s never even hinted in his notes about anything with moons or Wicca. How can you be so sure that it’s going to end tonight?”
“The kidnappings happened on full moons. That’s tonight-”
“The first one didn’t. Someone would have noticed something. It happened February 28.”
“In Japan. That would make it February 27 here. Full moon.”
“What about when the Cougar left his sick clues that he could have taken the boy but didn’t?”
Devon went over the dates in her mind. “There were rings. But not around a full moon. A green ring in April. Orange in June. Yellow in July. He’s following the Wiccan moon calendar. Why, oh why, didn’t I realize what all these days meant sooner!?”
“Doesn’t matter. You’ve figured it out now. So…what do we do next?”
“Now…I don’t know. No one’s going to listen and everyone in Vegas is out at the casino raid.” Devon sat down, with a defeated sigh. “That sicko is gonna get that little boy tonight. I know he is.”
“Hey! No, you are not going into shut down mode!” Melinia commanded. “Get off your ass!” She yanked Devon up out of the seat.
Devon stared at her in shock. Melinia was so not…this…in charge, take-no-prisoners, with an attitude girl! Wow. “Okay…so what do we do?”
“You. Get in your car and drive your ass up to Reno, to the Mt. Rose ski resort they’re staying at. See if you can’t use your FBI papers to get in there and warn them yourself.”
“Right. Good. Let’s go!” Devon said, nodding as she grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair.
“No. You go. I’ll stay here and keep trying to get a hold of someone.”
“Mel! You can’t make me do this on my own! We’ll keep trying to call them with my cell phone.”
Melinia gave her the you’re-an-idiot look. “Where do you think we are, the east coast? As soon as you’re out of Vegas, you’ll lose service. Won’t get it back till you almost hit Tahoe.”
“Goddamn! I hate Nevada!”
“Right. That’s why you moved back after going to your fancy-pants school. Now, there’s almost nothing between here and there. Just take 95 the entire way then cut west on 50. Mt. Rose is just north of Carson City. This is your chance to drive 100 miles an hour; you can make it in four hours. Now, GO!”
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