“Go. I have a phone call to make.” She smiled, and I assumed she meant she needed to call her girlfriend. Probably wanted to tell Sophie that she’d made it to Chicago, or maybe seeing if Sophie had made it to Indianapolis where she was from.
“Okay. If you want …” I hesitated and then looked at Ethan. “We can all have dinner during my dinner break. Maybe you can bring pizza?”
Ethan smiled. “Yeah, Buttercup. That sounds like a plan.”
Despite how busy I was expecting Judy’s to be, I was happy. I finally had the two most important people under the same roof.
My heart was beating fast in my chest. Not from fear, but from excitement.
I parked my car down the street from Fiona’s, walked through the vacant alley behind her house, and slipped into the backyard. It was quiet, people probably resting before having to cook all day on Thanksgiving. She didn’t have plans that I knew of, and the more hours that passed before her body would be discovered, the better.
The key I had made the same way as Amy’s and Daisy’s slipped right into the lock on Fiona’s back door. I eased it open, hoping to make no noise. When it cracked open, I heard the sound of the TV coming from the other room. I stepped through the door into the dark kitchen, and closed the door behind me.
Fiona was different from Amy and Daisy in the sense that she didn’t have a nightcap, so I changed it up and got my hands on ether. Everything is available on the internet these days, and I’d purchased the can of diethyl ether when I knew Fiona’s death would need to occur differently.
After setting the bag that had my clean clothes in it down quietly on the floor, I grabbed a white rag from my back pocket with my gloved hand. I doused the rag with the ether and placed the can on the counter next to the wood plaque I’d made with Fiona’s name engraved on it, so I could grab it on the way out.
I walked slowly to where the TV was on in the living room. Coming up behind the black-haired beauty, I placed the cloth against her face. She struggled, trying to get out of my grasp, but I held her against the back of the couch while she kicked. Her hair caught the light and a blue tint shined in the strands. From the view on my computer monitor, I hadn’t realized that her hair was blue. It was pretty and would be the last hair color sweet Fiona would have.
Once she was unconscious, I laid her back on the couch and walked around to stand on the other side of the couch. I brushed her dark blue hair away from her closed eyes and smiled. I wasn’t sure how ether would work. Usually, the girls passed out from the pill I slipped into their drinks, but I had to admit that using ether was exciting. It was me who held onto Fiona while she struggled to breathe, restraining her while the ether did its thing, not some drug making her pass out.
It. Was. Me.
My blood started to heat at the thought that, in mere seconds, Fiona would no longer be breathing and that I had caused her to take her last breath. The excitement grew stronger and stronger with each moment that passed.
Then, I heard a noise.
I stopped and listened. Fiona didn’t have a roommate—at least I’d never seen one while I watched her through her webcam.
I listened closer.
It was a scratching noise. Not a scratching from a tree limb or an animal on a window or door, or maybe …
“Meow.”
I blew out a breath as I saw a calico cat come into the room. It must have been the cat using the litter box.
“Meow,” it said again.
“Hey, buddy,” I called back.
The black and yellow cat rubbed on my leg, clearly not realizing I was about to kill its owner and make it so it might starve for a few days—or longer. Maybe it would have to eat sweet Fiona.
“Meow,” it continued to speak to me.
“What is it?”
“Meow.”
“Are you hungry?”
It made a noise just as I smelled the scent of shit in the air. My gaze moved to Fiona, but she was still breathing.
“Did you make room?” I asked the cat. “Are you hungry now that you went potty?”
“Meow.” It wiggled its butt and tail weirdly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I left Fiona passed out on the couch as I went in search for food for the little guy—or girl—I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want it to starve for too long and figured I’d feed it so its belly was full and it could get a good night’s sleep.
Opening cabinet after cabinet, I finally found the cat’s canned food. I bent down, running my gloved hand against its fur. “Do you like seafood stew?”
“Meow.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I looked around the tiny, dark kitchen and spotted a bowl on the floor at the end of a counter. The moment I popped the top on the can of food, the cat was at his bowl, waiting. I put the smelly cat food into the bowl, making sure to get it all, and then filled the water dish with fresh water.
I left the beast to eat and returned to Fiona. She was still unconscious, and she looked peaceful. That wasn’t going to last much longer because the moment the first strike of my knife pierced Fiona’s chest, I figured she’d wake up.
I went back into the kitchen and grabbed the ether in case I needed it again. I wasn’t expecting to have to feed a cat, but I couldn’t let the poor thing starve. That would be cruel.
Licking my lips, I withdrew the knife from behind my back, and raised it, stopping for a second and then following through, bringing the blade down toward Fiona’s heart. The rush of what I’d done seemed to race through the metal and into my arms just as Fiona gasped, her eyes opening wide and staring back at me.
She started to scream, and I grabbed the ether-soaked rag, placing it over her face and holding her down. Fiona’s arms flailed, her feet kicked, but I held her down, her gray eyes staring at me, silently asking me why.
“Because you were on the list,” I replied.
Fiona continued to struggle. Blood coated the rag and knife, and once she was no longer moving, I raised the knife again and struck once more, images of another dark-haired beauty flashing in front of my eyes. I wasn’t sure if I’d pierced Fiona’s heart or not, so I kept stabbing, thoughts of Reagan laughing with Jack clouding my vision as I struck over and over and over.
I brushed loose strands of hair behind my ears as I stood. I hadn’t realized that she’d pulled my hair free from its tie at the back of my head during our struggle. Having her fight me wasn’t what I was used to, but it also made my blood race faster. The adrenaline, the high, was ecstatic.
I heard a meow, and I looked over to see that the cat had finished eating. I wanted to pet it again, but instead, I stripped off my jeans and long-sleeved black shirt, changed my gloves and clothes, and left Fiona’s plaque next to the cat dish on the floor before leaving out the back door.
No one saw me leave out her back gate. No one saw me walk down the dimly lit alley to my car. And no one saw me drive away.
Fiona Jones - #4
Seeing Reagan laugh and smile while she was with Maddison was heartwarming. I knew that she’d missed her daughter because she had told me on several occasions, and today she looked bright and happy, which was how I assumed I looked the moment I saw my boys after the two-week hiatus.
Reagan cooked us breakfast, and we sat around the table talking about anything and everything until we had to head to my parents for Thanksgiving dinner. Sadly, the boys were with Jessica for the holiday, but I was getting them for Christmas. Reagan and I needed to figure some things out because Maddison was coming to stay with us again the week after Christmas and for New Year’s before going back to Michigan, and I had my boys for four days in a row because Christmas was on a Thursday. We needed a bigger place.
We needed a home that was ours.
Not a place where I’d once killed a guy and that my sister owned, and not a place that Reagan hadn’t even moved all of her belongings into. With everything that was going on, we’d packed up her stuff and put the non-essentials into a storage unit. Th
ere was no way in hell she would ever live alone again. I wouldn’t let that happen.
Life was good despite the open cases I still had haunting me, but the more time that passed, the more I thought it was connected to me and not Reagan, as April had mentioned weeks prior; I just didn’t know how or why. I’d combed through past cases, trying to come up with any sort of connection and had come up with nothing.
After we ate breakfast, the three of us got ready to go to my parents’ place. “How good are you at Uno?” I asked Maddie as we rode the elevator down to the garage.
She shrugged. “Probably as good as anyone. It’s luck, right?”
I chuckled. “Nope. You have to know when to play a card or hold it for a better time. It’s strategy.”
“So, you’re an Uno pro?”
“I’m not bad,” I admitted. “But it is a family tradition to play after dinner.”
“Ethan’s oldest, Cohen, is apparently a pro,” Reagan stated.
I grinned.
“Oh yeah?” Maddie asked. “How old is he?”
“Eight,” I replied.
“Oh, I get it. We have to let him win.”
“No, he knows how to play,” I corrected. “He keeps us on our toes.”
The elevator stopped on the garage floor. Maddison looked at Reagan. “Then I’m looking forward to a yearly thing.” Reagan pulled her in for a side hug, and we stepped out of the elevator.
I was looking forward to a yearly thing too.
Introductions were made, and Reagan and the girls were doing their thing while me, my dad, my brother, and Rhys watched one of the football games.
“So, Christmas,” I said during a commercial. The guys looked at me. “Given my time apart from my boys, I want to make this year a little special.”
“What are you thinking?” Rhys asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Is Maddison going to be here for Christmas?” Dad asked.
I shook my head. “She’ll be in Colorado with her father for the actual holiday, but then she’ll stop here for a week before going back to school.”
“Where is she going to sleep?” Dad asked. “You’ll have the boys some of those nights, right?”
I shrugged. “The couch?”
“Or, maybe it’s time you find a new place?” Rhys suggested.
“Trying to kick me out of your condo?” It was my sister’s, but since they were married, it was his too.
He smiled. “Not at all, but your family is growing.”
My heart grew at those words. My family was growing. “You’re right,” I replied. “Maybe at the start of the year we’ll look for our own place.” My gaze met my brother’s. He was grinning wide. “What?” I questioned.
He chuckled. “Remember when Jessica wanted to move in with you, and you did everything to prevent it at first?”
“Yeah,” I replied, remembering how I’d told her it was against my lease to have her move in when, in fact, she could have been added at any time. I even went so far as to tell her that she’d have to park her car two blocks away every night. I’d told her I needed time to make room for her clothes, which was true, and in the end, after a year of dating, we found a place together that was big enough for her stuff and mine.
“You’re barely back together with Reagan and yet you’re ready to make things permanent,” Carter stated.
“Do you know who you’re talking about?” I asked.
“Reagan, of course.”
I leaned forward on the couch I was sitting on. “My Reagan.”
He grinned, and I knew he was fucking with me.
“So, you going to ask her to marry you? You are, aren’t you?” Rhys asked.
Smiling, I replied, “Yeah—yeah, I am.”
“Want me to set it up for you to do it during intermission at a Hawks game?” Rhys asked. That was how he’d proposed to my sister. And while that would be epic, I didn’t want to copy him. I needed my own way. I wanted it to be special—something that was only for Reagan and me.
“No, thanks.” I shrugged and leaned back again. “I’ll think of something.”
“Well, if you need my help, let me know,” Rhys said. “I’ve got ideas.”
I glanced at my dad, and he smiled. “It’s good to see you getting what makes you happy.”
I’d never admit it to anyone, but I had settled for Jessica. Sure, I loved her—especially since she was the mother of my boys—but I never loved her on the level that I loved Reagan.
“You have no idea,” I replied.
I stepped away from the table, an exciting game of Uno in full force, and pulled my ringing phone out of my pocket. “Valor.”
“We got another murder,” Shawn said.
“Same MO?”
“Yeah.”
I closed my eyes briefly and took a deep breath. If this was our serial killer, at least the person wasn’t Reagan. “Text me the address.” I hung up the phone and turned to face the table. “I gotta go.”
“Is everything okay?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, duty calls.”
“Can you drop us off at home?” Reagan asked.
I didn’t want Reagan and Maddison to leave unless they wanted to. Everyone was having a good time. “If you want, or you two can stay.”
“How will we get home?” Reagan questioned.
“Actually, yeah, let’s get you safe behind a locked door,” I replied. My dad, brother, or even Rhys could drive them back to my place, but I would feel better knowing they were home and safe.
“So, it’s the same guy?” Dad asked.
“Shawn said it’s the same MO, so it appears to be.”
We didn’t waste any time saying our goodbyes. I apologized to everyone, even Reagan and Maddison, and the only thing my woman said to me was, “Just catch this guy.”
“Working on it, Buttercup,” I’d replied.
I’d called Evan, and he met us at my condo. I felt bad asking him to work on Thanksgiving, but like me, he was the guy on call.
Before leaving, I made sure the girls were safe inside. I didn’t want to take a chance that this was some sort of decoy again, and I checked to make sure there were no plaques and no one inside before I left.
At the address Shawn had sent me, the blue and red lights lit up the dark night. I parked and walked to the door where I saw Shawn waiting for me. “What do we have?”
“First responding officer briefed me. We have a twenty-two-year-old female.”
“Stabbed?”
“Multiple times.”
“Shit,” I hissed as I slipped the shoe protectors on.
“Wooden plaque?”
“Yep.”
“Fuck,” I groaned as I entered the small one-bedroom house. Shawn had said it was the same MO, but it was still horrible that another young woman had lost her life because we couldn’t solve the cases fast enough.
Just like the other murders, the vic was laying on a blood-soaked couch. “I called Shay,” Shawn stated. “Vic is Fiona Jones, and she was a student at Lakeshore U.”
“Of course she was.”
“I already sent a patrol cop to take her laptop to Will.”
“Good. Listen up,” I yelled. “We need to catch this asshole once and for all. I want everything combed over five fucking times, and every piece of lint tested. There has to be—”
“Sergeant,” Roberta, with the crime scene unit, interrupted. “We have a strand of hair. It looks like the vic might have fought back.”
“Put a rush on both. I want to know tonight.”
“You got it.”
Everyone continued working as I stared down at Fiona’s bloody body. She wasn’t naked like the other victims, but given that she had multiple stab wounds and the fucking wood plaque, we were dealing with the same guy. Possibly a guy with red hair. And if Fiona did fight back and we got DNA, this could be the break we were looking for.
Good job, Fiona.
The bed dipped, waking me. “Babe?” I mumbled.
“Yeah,” Ethan replied, pulling my back against his front.
“What time is it?” I was too tired to look at the clock on his side of the bed. After he dropped Maddie and me off, we’d watched a movie, but the entire time, all I could think about was when this would end. Ethan wasn’t home by the time the movie ended, and I’d tried to go to sleep without him, but tossed and turned until slumber finally came.
“Almost four.”
I only had one burning question. “Was there a wood plaque?”
Ethan took a long, deep breath. “Yes … There was also a strand of red hair on the body that didn’t match the vic’s.”
I turned to face him, finally opening my eyes to see nothing but darkness. His arm moved to rest on my hip. “Now you have DNA.”
He sighed. “But it wasn’t enough, and there were no hits in any of the databases.”
“Shit.” I blew out a breath.
“Yeah, but he fucked up. That means he’s slipping, and eventually, we’ll catch him.”
I paused for a moment. “What number was on the back of the plaque?”
“Four.”
I blinked. “But mine had two, so there has to be a three somewhere.”
“I’m not sure the numbers are his kill order because the second plaque we found had the number nine on the back.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why number them?”
“Could be the order he found his victims and started watching them.”
“Do you think he moved past me because he’s not able to watch me anymore?”
“Maybe, but we’re not taking that chance. You’ll have security until we catch this guy.”
“That’s not what I mean. I just mean that maybe he’s not watching number three anymore either.”
Ethan sighed. “I hope that’s the case and that the third isn’t already dead and we just haven’t found the body.”
“Maybe the third got a new computer or something, and the killer isn’t watching her anymore,” I suggested.
Watch Me Page 16
