Missing Hearts

by Wright, Kenya

  “Okay. But then, why would Sheriff Bran go through all of that?”

  “Because whatever he is hiding has nothing to do with the Fullbrooke Six, but it’s something huge that could ruin him. So, I go to the judge looking crazy and am wrong, then when I really do have something. . .”

  “No judge will want to help you again because you made him look like a fool, thinking Sheriff Bran was the Angel Maker.” I stared at the house. “He didn’t even look sad that one of his deputies was dead.”

  “Probably wanted him dead.”

  In front of us, Sheriff Bran went into the house and shut off the lights on the lower level.

  I looked back at Alexander. “What do you think he’s hiding?”

  “Something worth getting his deputy killed.” Alexander started the car and drove us away.

  I shook my head. “Why are you so sure about the sheriffs not being involved with the Fullbrooke Six?”

  “What Sheriff Bran did was sloppy and stupid. Our serial killer is anything but that. He’s organized. Careful. Loving towards the girls in his demented mind. Sheriff Bran is a racist. There’s no doubt about that.” He increased the speed on the car as if he was tired of being in Colesville. “Plus, we have no concrete proof either sheriffs are the killer. There’s no evidence besides the fact that Bran lied about his alibi and allegedly killed a man over the bar footage.”

  “Which is enough, but the smarmy look on his face says he’s cleared any evidence of his wrongdoing.” I tapped the side of the door. “Still, I want to lock him up for something.”

  “We will. He’s guilty. We’ll figure out what, but for now, the focus is no more missing girls.”

  “You’re right.”

  Chapter 16

  Take a Break

  Alexander

  We returned to the hotel. It had been a long day. Our results had been bullshit. I was sure Sheriff Bran had nothing to do with the murders. Our Unsub wasn’t that ridiculously stupid or obvious. I didn’t know what the sheriffs wanted to cover up, but they’d come close to getting Haven killed.

  For that I would spend my life putting them in jail.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t waste my time on the sheriffs due to revenge. I had to stay focused on this killer preying on little girls.

  But once I have our Unsub, I will visit you again, Sheriff Bran. I’ve got tons of vacation time saved up. I’ll just sit in Colesville off the FBI’s clock, harassing the shit out of you.

  I parked the car in front of Saint Mary’s Inn. “Are you hungry? Do you feel like hitting the dining area?”

  “No. Those pork chops were heavy.”

  And the two dead bodies probably made you lose your appetite.

  We left the car and headed to Saint Mary’s. The drive had been silent, and so was the walk into the inn. We climbed the stairs.

  Defeat lay within me. I wondered how Haven felt. Was she shaken from today or disappointed? It was probably a mixture of both.

  When we arrived at her door, I paused.

  She turned to me.

  “Are you really okay?”

  Haven met my gaze and inclined her head. “Yes, Agent King. Like I’ve told you before, I am great.”

  “Your voice is shaky.”

  She frowned. “It is, but I’m still fine.”

  “Not many can go through what you went through tonight and be fine the next day. Take a few days off, and return—”

  “No. I’m not taking off. Our Unsub isn’t going on vacation. Why would I relax?”

  “Because I need you to be in good shape.”

  “I will be after some sleep.”

  I glared. “But will you go to sleep is the question.”

  Looking away, she bit her lip. “Alexander. . .I will be fine.”

  “Hmmm.”

  She returned her view to me. “What is that hmmm about?”

  “If you can’t go to sleep and you won’t take off, then come to me.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “Just knock on your door and cry in your arms?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is that what most of your agents do?”

  “Of course. I’m the agent whisperer. Feel free to have me console you.”

  “Like I said. I’ll be fine.” She turned back to the door and took out her keys. In that moment, I noticed her fingers shaking. The keys jiggled against each other.

  No. You’re not fine.

  We barely knew each other. I hadn’t spent enough time with Haven. Yet, I had this urge to hold Haven and make her feel better.

  I came closer and brushed my fingers against her arm. Not too hard. Not too intimate. But she needed the comfort, and I yearned to touch her. I tried to ignore the fact that she smelled so good. Her beautiful fragrance surrounded me.

  “Everything will be fine.” I took the keys out of her hand, unlocked the door, and pushed it wide open. “The first time I watched a man die, I couldn’t sleep for three days. I told no one.”

  Turning around, she looked into my eyes. “Why not?”

  Everything in me wanted to wrap my arms around that small frame. “Because I’m the son of Director King. I had a family reputation to uphold. I had to hide the fact that after witnessing a man being shot several times in front of me, I lay in my bed, eyes wide open, and covered in sweat. I couldn’t get the man’s face out of my head.”

  Haven’s shoulders relaxed a bit, but a faint furrow lined her forehead. “How long did it take you to get over it?”

  I could feel the nervous energy rolling off her. “It took the next guy getting shot in front of me to get over the first one. But, then I had to get over the second man.”

  Her bottom lip quivered.

  “You’re taking off tomorrow.”

  “No. We need to figure out what’s going on with Sheriff Bran and Deputy Martelle as well as continue tracking—”

  “Take a break.”

  Sighing, she walked away. “Goodnight, King.”

  No.

  Not thinking, I caught her arm and spun her back toward me. I really wanted to yell at her. Or kiss her. . .hard. But it would be inappropriate and wrong. She was my agent and she was definitely shaken. It would be taking advantage of her.

  Her face flushed. “Yes?”

  “Listen to me.” I kept a tender grip on her arm. “Take a break. We’ll get back together in a few days.”

  Haven’s voice came out quiet. Not threatening or demanding in the least. “No. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight in the morning.”

  I gently pulled her to me. She didn’t move away. We stood barely two inches away from each other, breathing the same air. Warmth flowed between us.

  It took everything in me to not lick my lips. “You need to get some mental rest, Haven.”

  “I won’t, not until this psycho is caught.”

  “You can’t do that. You’ll burn out fast if you put emotions in this.”

  “I don’t see how you can’t.”

  “Separate yourself from the case.”

  “I can’t. Those little girls looked like me when I was young. They did the things I did. Jumped rope. Read stories. Went to church.”

  My heart weakened from those words. I loved her spirit. It was why I’d join the FBI and followed in my father’s steps. I yearned to save the world. After all these years, I’d lost some of the sparks that set my passion on fire. And with Haven’s arrival, a low flame rose within me.

  Unable to help myself, I wrapped my arms around her. “Then, take my hug.”

  She remained within my hold. Humor lay within her low voice. “A hug from the famous Agent King. I’m honored.”

  “You should be. I don’t give these hugs to everyone.”

  I thought she would move away, but she remained.

  A second later, she leaned her head against my chest.

  “Anytime you need me, Agent Barron, I’ll be here. I know what you’re going through.”

  Within the silence and in between her doorway, I held Haven clo
se to me, enjoying her soft warmth and wishing I could do more. My body came alive, although I did my best to control myself. Now wasn’t the time to hit on her or allow myself to be aroused.

  A few more minutes passed, I dragged myself from Haven’s warmth, let her go, and stepped back.

  Stop this or you’ll be holding her all night.

  My voice came out hoarse. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I walked away.

  Her voice sounded behind me. “Thank you.”

  “No.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 17

  Messages

  Haven

  I hate to admit it. That hug did make me feel better. He is an agent whisperer.

  When the door closed, I walked over to the window and opened it. Like many of the others, my room faced the courtyard’s beautiful gardens. A cool breeze carried an array of floral scents into my room.

  I let out a long breath and looked down at my shaking fingers.

  Stop being weak.

  Things were slowly coming to light. I couldn’t afford anything less than full strength. The Angel Maker would not stop, and I knew it wasn’t the deputy that Alexander had shot.

  That moment from tonight returned.

  Deputy Martell wanted to kill me. He’d yelled out the N-word and meant every damn syllable. I spotted the rage in the eyes. And then Alexander shot him in the head. All life left that angry gaze.

  Now, he’s dead.

  That moment shook me deep within my soul. I would never forget it.

  Again, I looked down at my hands—those stupid shaking fingers. I hoped Alexander didn’t notice it.

  Of course, he did. That’s why he hugged me.

  His hug was the only good thing that came out of tonight. I’d needed it. I relished in his hard muscle surrounding and protecting me like a fort. I’d come to Fullbrooke to work the case—to get rid of the monster preying on little girls. But in these few days, I found enjoyment in being around Alexander. He was smart and courageous. A leader. Someone I could learn a great deal from.

  Still, he was also tempting me. Already, I missed his arms and wished he was inside this room, comforting me some more.

  Forget tonight. Forget about the hug. Take a shower. Get some rest. And figure out who the Angel Maker is.

  I pulled off my shirt and headed toward the shower. Goose bumps spread across my flesh.

  Damn, that hug felt so good. He should bottle that up and sell it.

  And then the dying man’s face flashed in my head. A chill ran through me. I took off the rest of my clothes and walked into the bathroom.

  Exhaustion plagued me, but I knew not much sleep would come.

  I thought back to Alexander and his hug, wishing he could’ve given me more. Tonight, I needed more than a hug—more than his arms. I yearned to feel his lips on my skin. I craved something to get my mind off of the case. I wanted to feel lust, heat, and passion.

  Nothing wrong with a little sex to divert me from the flashes of a dead guy.

  I stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water. It sprayed along my skin, warming me up.

  Everything is going to work out. I’ll get some rest and be ready for a new day.

  Minutes later, I left the shower, dried off, put on a nightshirt, and went to bed. Too scared to sleep in the dark, I kept the lights on.

  Before I passed out, I checked my phone. There had been several missed calls from Sean. He shifted to texts. I read them. All begged me to leave this case and go back home. I wasn’t sure if he was solely trying to protect me or didn’t want me to indicate his father in this case.

  Besides Sean, my mother had called to check on me. I made a mental note to contact her tomorrow. I was too drained and scared. She would hear it in my voice and worry.

  Just go to sleep. It’ll be fine after that.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t get the peaceful rest I required. Blood and bullets filled my dreams. Deputy Martelle chased me with a gun, yelling out the N-word with each step.

  In the middle of the night, I woke up screaming.

  My heart raced.

  Madness boomed in my ears.

  Someone knocked. The door rattled from the sound.

  And suddenly I realized that my screaming hadn’t woke me up at all.

  It had been the knocking.

  Who the hell is this?

  Yawning, I sat up in the bed.

  The person knocked again.

  “I’m coming.” I rubbed my eyes. “Who is it?”

  No response came. The knocking stopped.

  Exhausted, I left the bed, went to the door, and peeked through the eye hole. No one stood on the other side.

  What the hell?

  It had been a long night of craziness. I walked over to my desk, grabbed my gun, and took it out.

  Tip toeing back to the door, I kept the gun in front of me. Slowly, I opened the door, ready to put a bullet in someone’s head. But no one greeted me on the other side.

  What the hell is going on?

  I stepped outside and looked both ways. No one was in the hall. Whoever had knocked at my door had fled.

  Okay. What’s going on?

  I glanced down and saw a small scrap of white paper. I reached down and grabbed it.

  Haven,

  Go home. You cannot stop this.

  The Angel Maker.

  Stunned, I gripped the gun harder as the note fell from my hand. My heart slammed against my ribs.

  Fuck you. I’m not going anywhere.

  In a hurry, I didn’t put on any pants and headed over to Alexander’s room, wondering if the Angel Maker had left him a message too. No piece of paper sat by his door.

  Just me? Okay, buddy.

  I aimed the gun, just in case he decided to pop up. Glancing around, I knocked on Alexander’s door, banging my fist against the wooden surface.

  Alexander opened the door fast with a gun in his hand. He only wore black pajama pants. For one crazy moment, I glanced at that chiseled chest.

  His voice took me out of the daze. “Haven?”

  I looked up. “He left me a message.”

  Alexander put the gun at his side. “Who?”

  “The Angel Maker.” I hurried back over to my doorway, picked up the paper, and handed it to him. “He spoke to me by first name.”

  Alexander frowned and read it. “He knows you?”

  A shiver ran through me. “Maybe.”

  “Then, he’s from Fullbrooke.”

  “Most likely.”

  “He also wanted you to know that the deputy wasn’t the right guy.” With the gun still in his hand, Alexander stormed down the hallway. “The inn will have camera footage. We’ll have to get it. I’m sure our Unsub will have his face covered, but it’s better than nothing.”

  I hurried after him.

  He paused at the top of the staircase and turned to me. “You should put on some pants first. I’ll wait.”

  “Oh.” I widened my eyes. “I forgot I didn’t have any on.”

  He gazed down at my legs. “I didn’t.”

  Shaking my head, I rushed back to my room.

  When I finally returned, I still had my gun.

  Alexander stared at my pants as if they were off.

  “Let’s go.” He went down the stairs.

  I followed. “I can’t believe he came to my room.”

  “Me either. You can’t stay in that room anymore.”

  I sighed. “I thought that, but if he found this room, then he’ll find the other one.”

  “Which is why you’ll be in my room.”

  “What?” I stopped midway in the stairs. “I’m staying in your room?”

  “Yes.” He continued down the stairs. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “I don’t know about that—”

  “It’s either my room or you can go back to DC. That’s probably the only thing I agree about with the Angel Maker. You should leave.”

  “Well, yo
u both will be disappointed. I’m staying.”

  “You are.” He hit the bottom of the staircase and turned to me. “And you’re staying in my room. We’ll make it work. I’ll be respectful and give you privacy. But I have to make sure you stay safe.”

  He left the steps.

  I followed.

  Alexander looked over his shoulder. “You’re quiet.”

  “I’m still wondering about this arrangement.”

  He stopped. “I would put you in a new room and have the police guard it, but I don’t trust them now.”

  “Me either.”

  “You can’t stay with your mother. In fact, I should have an agent outside of her house just in case.”

  Tension filled my chest. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t want to use any more agents to guard you. We have people at the waitress Maddie’s house. We have some guarding the deputy’s place. And now your mother—”

  “I understand. We’re keeping everyone busy.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I hate that you’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

  “Don’t worry.” He gave me a wicked smile. “I won’t be on the couch for long. You’ll need a cuddle every now and then.”

  “You think that’s funny?”

  “I do.” He walked off.

  We arrived at the inn’s management office. It was in the middle of the night. The manager was passed out in his chair with his feet up on the desk.

  Keeping his gun at his side, Alexander pounded on the door. The noise woke the man up.

  When he spotted us, he jumped up from his chair. “Oh. . .hello. I’m sorry. How can I help you? Is the front desk—”

  “We actually need your assistance.” Alexander stepped in the office.

  The man glanced at Alexander’s gun and the one I held. “Excuse me, but who are you?”

  “I left my badge upstairs, but I’m Agent King and this is Agent Barron.” He cleared his throat. “A possible suspect in a murder case came to Agent Barron’s door and left a message.”

  “Here?” A red shade covered the poor man’s face. “W-when? Is this the. . .serial killer of the little girls?”

  “We think so.” I pointed to the wall of screens. “Would the man’s appearance be on camera?”

  “I-it should be. I’m Cory. Sorry.” Cory hurried over to the computer next to the wall, pressed some buttons, and then found the footage of a mysterious man. “Here we go. This must be him. I don’t. . .I don’t know who this could be.”