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his big hands out over the folders lying atop his desk.
    â€œThese contain all the information we have on the four murders. The info on Winston Corbett came in mid-afternoon, so we’ve had a chance to go over it.”
    â€œAs you already know, Ben’s dad’s murder fit the same pattern as the previous three,” Nic said. “We don’t need to wait on the autopsy report to know that.”
    â€œOur killer, for whatever reason, has targeted Powell employees and members of their families.” Griff reiterated an undisputable fact.
    Studying the big man’s somber expression, Derek noted suppressed anger combined with grief and frustration.
    Sanders said, “Protecting the Powell Agency employees and their families is of paramount importance.” He stood, as he so often did, at Griff’s side, his body stationed slightly behind his boss.
    â€œEveryone is vulnerable because there is no way to predict who will be chosen as the next to die.”
    â€œI’ve given orders for the security here at Griffin’s Rest to be expanded. As of tomorrow morning, we’re doubling the guards and bringing in more agents to the estate,” Griff explained. “There will be guards here at our home, twenty-four/seven, as well as at Yvette’s retreat.”
    Most people would not have noticed the slight tensing in Nic’s body, but being an observer of human nature, Derek noticed. Whenever Griff mentioned Dr. Yvette Meng, Nic reacted in a subtle, barely discernable way. He suspected Nic’s friendship with Yvette hinged precariously on Nic believing that her husband had never shared a sexual relationship with the exotic Eurasian beauty. Derek also suspected that there was far more to Griff’s apparent symbiotic relationship with both Sanders and Dr. Meng than anyone, including Nic, knew.
    â€œObviously, the problem is that we have no idea who the killer has chosen as his next victim,” Nic said. “We’ve read and re-read the reports.” She glanced at Griff’s desktop. “The only thing the four victims had in common was their link to the Powell Agency. They were different ages, different sexes, were murdered in different states. One was a Powell secretary, one an agent, one a lawyer who was the brother of an agent. And now, Ben’s father, a retired businessman, has been killed.”
    â€œIf we could figure out how he chooses his victims—” Nic said.
    Derek cut her off. “To date, he’s chosen two women and then two men. If he follows this pattern then the next two victims will be female.”
    Griffin grunted, the growling sound coming from deep in his chest. “If that’s the case, then every female Powell agent as well as every agent’s wife, mother, sister, daughter, and niece could be at risk. How the hell can we narrow down the choices when we have no idea what criteria he’s using to make his decisions?”
    â€œWe can’t,” Derek said. “My educated guess is that he is following a specific plan and that he probably won’t deviate from it. He’s too methodical, too precise, as if he has a blueprint that leads him step by step.”
    â€œThe way a copycat killer would mimic the original killer’s MO,” Griff said.
    Derek’s gaze met Griff’s and he understood that Griff and the others knew something that he and Maleah did not.
    â€œAre you saying you think we’re dealing with a copycat killer?” Maleah asked.
    â€œI believe it is a good possibility.” Griff picked up two file folders and handed them to Sanders. “Later, I want you both to read over this information.” He motioned to Sanders to distribute the folders, which he quickly did.
    Derek glanced at the typed heading on the folder. Jerome Browning.
    The name sounded vaguely familiar.
    â€œWho’s Jerome Browning?” Maleah asked.
    â€œHe is a convicted serial killer serving half