He cocked an eyebrow. “That’ll cost you, Miss Cane.”
She grinned. “How many caramel macchiatos?”
“Two.” A devilish smile crossed his face. “And my file cabinet is in dire need of organization.”
Apparently, her incessant need for organization and structure preceded her.
She glanced at the cabinet, which had folders sticking haphazardly out of the drawers.
She sighed. “Done.”
CHAPTER 12
ZANDER WALKED OUT of the station doors and stepped onto the parking lot. A gust of wind whipped past him, and he zipped up his coat. It was just past nine o’clock and it had turned into a cool, dark night, just like his mood.
Zander needed three things—a break from his office, food, and a long-ass shower. And then, he’d drive himself right back to the station to work on Abby Collier’s case, for hours into the night.
But first, he just needed a damn hour.
His phone rang.
“Stone here.”
“Zander, it’s Deena. Just left the bar where Johnny Campos works, and let me tell you, that place is as seedy as it gets.”
“So you’re telling me you drank a few pints while you were there.”
“Two. And one shot.”
Zander laughed.
“Anyway, I talked to our boy. He confirmed that it was his truck that Raven saw parked in the lot. Says he didn’t see anyone or anything suspicious Sunday morning.”
“Damn.”
“I also asked him about Saturday specifically. Say’s he worked the day shift—yeah, the bar opens at ten in the morning—then went home.”
“Sounds like you interviewed the poor kid.”
“Well, I just had a weird feeling—he’s got a rap sheet and no apparent alibi for Saturday night. My guts telling me to look deeper into this guy.”
Zander tugged up his coat collar to block the wind. “We’re going to need a hell of a lot more than just the fact that he has a rap sheet, and was jogging on a public trail the day after Abby’s murder to consider him a suspect—at all.”
“Let me look into him a little more before you write him off. My radar’s going off like crazy.”
“Be my guest. Start with his residence, see if there are any cameras to confirm that he didn’t leave Saturday night.”
“You got it. See ya.”
Click.
Zander jumped into his truck as his phone beeped—he must’ve missed a call while he was on the phone with Deena. He dialed the number.
“Cora here.
“Hey, it’s Stone.”
“Good, thanks for calling me back so quickly. First, I got the tox back. Abby was clean.”
“No drugs or alcohol in her system?”
“Nope.”
“Interesting.”
“Also, I confirmed that the bruising on her jaw happened before she was killed.”
“Son of a bitch punched her, knocked her out.”
“Appears that way. The autopsy isn’t fully complete yet, but I wanted to talk through something with you, more or less.”
“Talk through something?”
“Yeah. Do you remember the Marsha Welch murder two years ago?”
Zander’s stomach clenched. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Went cold, right?”
“Right. Never found her cell phone, her laptop was for school mainly and didn’t turn up any clues. Parents knew nothing. Her friends knew nothing. We literally had nothing to go on.”
“And she was strangled to death and found in the woods. She’d been knocked out with chloroform.”
“Right.”
“Well, I just found traces of moonmilk on Abby’s body—
“Moonmilk?”
“Yeah, moonmilk.”
“What the hell is moonmilk?”
“Oh, sorry. Moonmilk is a white, sticky substance made up of fine crystals of carbonates, found primarily in caves. I’ve confirmed it’s in Hatchet Hollow.”
“Okay…”
“As I was saying, we found some on Abby’s body, and it immediately reminded me of Marsha’s autopsy. I’m sure you remember, but moonmilk was also found on her body, although she wasn’t found in a cave.”
He frowned, paused—he remembered every piece of Marsha Welch’s case file but finding a white sticky substance made up of carbonates didn’t ring a bell. At all. No, he’d never heard the word moonmilk before in his life.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure about what? That moonmilk was found on both their bodies?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m one-hundred percent sure. I’m looking at Marsha Welch’s autopsy report right now. And both victims were around the same age, young women, strangled to death. The only difference is that Marsha’s fingers weren’t cut off.”
“There’d be no reason to cut them off if she didn’t fight him.”
“And she didn’t fight because she was knocked out from the chloroform.”
“Right.” Pause. “And we never determined the place of Marsha’s murder… only that she definitely wasn’t killed where we found her.”
“So she was killed somewhere else and then dumped in the woods.”
“To throw us off.”
“Agreed. Hell, Zander, maybe she was killed in Hatchet Hollow. By the same freaking person.”
A moment of silence ticked by.
“Do you know if Marsha was into witchcraft, at all? Or anything like that?”
“No, I don’t think so. I mean, it doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Can you resend Marsha’s full autopsy report?”
“No problem, give me a quick second.” Zander heard the click, click, click of Cora’s computer. “And… there. Sent. It should be in your inbox. Also, one more thing. There’s no traces of semen anywhere on, or in Abby’s body, so she hadn't been with anyone lately.”
He assumed that, but was hoping they'd have someone else to interview, at least. “Okay, thanks, Cora.”
“No problem. Hopefully Max will pull something useful from that fabric.”
“What fabric?”
“The piece that Raven brought to him a bit ago, that she found in the cave. He called me about something unrelated, and we started talking about Abby, and he just mentioned it.”
“Raven found a piece of fabric? In the cave?”
“That’s what he said. Not even two hours ago.”
Zander felt his cheeks heat with anger. Why the hell didn’t she call him? Why the hell didn’t she let him handle it? Why the fuck did she go back to the cave?
“Thanks, Cora. Let me know when you have the final report done.”
“Will do.”
Aggravated, he tossed the phone on the passenger seat and pulled out of the parking lot.
What the hell was Raven doing going back to the scene of a grisly murder? By herself? He surprised himself when a surge of protectiveness overcame him. He didn’t want Raven involved in this case. He didn’t want her anywhere close to where a woman was mutilated and strangled to death.
He took a deep breath, his mind racing.
Moonmilk.
Moonmilk?
He frowned—he definitely would have remembered that detail from Marsha’s case, even if it were almost two years ago. Surely he would have. Right?
The location of Marsha’s body was found a half-mile from the cave. Could the piece of fabric Raven found possibly belong to her? Was it possible that the same person who killed Abby Collier, also killed Marsha Welch?
He gripped the steering wheel as confusion, frustration, and anger began to mix with the starvation and exhaustion that had already settled in.
He gritted his teeth.
Dammit!
He slammed the brakes, shoved the truck into reverse, and slid back into the parking lot. With the truck running, he scaled the station steps and jogged into his office.
He flicked on the light, sank into his chair, and turned on the computer that he had just turned off f
ive minutes earlier. He clicked on his email and opened the latest one from Cora. He skimmed through Marsha’s autopsy report and stopped cold.
He frowned and leaned forward—there it was, Cora’s findings of moonmilk on Marsha’s body.
What the hell?
It was as if it were the first time he was reading the information.
He grabbed his keys and pushed out of the chair.
CHAPTER 13
RAVEN PUT THE full weight of her body against the door as she flung her keys and bag on the floor. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Home.
She was home—away from the cave, the murder, the chaos.
She opened her eyes and looked down at her keys and bag, the contents sprawled out on the floor.
Leave it. Don’t be so damn neurotic. Just leave it.
A minute ticked by as she stared at the mess.
Her skin began to crawl.
A few more seconds passed as she argued with herself in her head. Just leave it. What’s the worst that could happen? You’re such a nutcase.
And then, with an eye roll, she bent down, picked up her belongings, and hung them neatly on the coat rack.
Well, she lost that battle.
She sighed and walked to the kitchen. She needed a drink—badly.
She turned on the light, and her heart stopped.
The kitchen window was open, just a crack. She’d remembered to close it, right?
Right. She never, ever, forgot to close, and lock, the windows and doors before leaving the house.
Her eyes darted around the room. Nothing appeared to be stolen, out of place, or knocked over, and the back door was locked.
She reached up and pulled down an extra gun that she kept on top of the refrigerator, cocked it, and then quickly closed—and locked—the window. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911, but didn’t connect. With the gun in one hand, and her finger hovering above the call button on her phone in the other, she stepped out of the kitchen.
The silence was deafening as she tiptoed down the hall. She peered into her office—her laptop was still there, closed, and powered off. Okay, so this definitely wasn’t a burglary.
She turned, glanced into the den—nothing out of sorts—before walking to her bedroom. With all senses piqued, she slowly pushed open the door and turned on the light.
Her stomach hit the floor as her eyes locked on the small, grey stone lying in the center of her bed.
She didn’t need to look closer. She didn’t need to pick it up—she had absolutely no doubt that the stone was from the cave where Abby Collier took her last breath.
Ding, ding.
She jumped, nearly screaming at the sound of the doorbell.
Her heart began to race.
Who the hell would be visiting her now?
She looked back at the stone on her bed. What the hell was happening?
Her finger slid over the trigger as she tiptoed down the hall.
Ding, ding.
She held her breath and looked through the peephole.
Zander.
And he looked pissed as hell.
She quickly slid the gun on the windowsill, and put her phone into her pocket. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, and immediately tensed at the stone-cold look in his eyes.
“What the hell were you doing going back to the cave? By yourself,” he seethed.
She raised her eyebrows. Obviously, Zander had found out about her trip to Graves earlier. Great. She took a quick inhale in an attempt to steady herself, before responding.
He frowned, looked her up and down. “Wait, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You just startled me, is all.”
He shook his head. “You’re as white as a ghost. What’s wrong?” He stepped inside, his tall, muscular body filling the foyer.
She swallowed the knot in her throat, blew out a breath, and motioned him to follow her. She felt his eyes burning into her back as she stepped into the bedroom.
He stood beside her and followed her gaze. “What is that? A rock?” He looked at her, then back at the grey stone on her bed.
“Yeah. It was here when I got home, just a few minutes ago.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think someone put it there?”
“I want to say no. I want to say there’s a chance that it fell off my shoe or something, but no it wasn’t there earlier.”
He turned to her, with laser focus. “You think someone broke in?”
Pause. “Possibly.”
“You mean to tell me that you went to Hatchet Hollow, then to Graves to drop off a piece of evidence you found, and when you came home, it was there.”
Her chest squeezed at the realization of what was happening. Yes, someone had been watching her, following her. Someone knew she went to the cave and found something. And someone wanted to make sure that she knew, that they knew.
His eyes flared with anger. “Raven, you’ve got to stay out of this, do you understand?”
Raven. Not Rave.
“Do you understand?”
She glowered back at him.
“You cannot go back to that cave. You understand? I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”
She’d never seen him like this. So worked up. And honestly, it was frightening. Unnerving.
He continued, “Do you remember Marsha Welch?”
She searched her memory. “I’d just moved here. Yeah, I remember. She was found in the woods, about two years ago.” Her eyes widened. “Close to Hatchet Hollow, right?”
“Right.”
“Oh, my God… do you think…”
“I don’t know, but it’s enough to make me tell you to stay the hell away from there.” He looked back at the stone. “And you’re sure as hell not staying here tonight.”
“Who says?”
“I say.” His eyes locked on hers and his brows raised slightly, punctuating the authority in his voice. Zander Stone was not used to people defying his requests—that much was obvious.
She stared at him for a moment, not sure what to say next. This was only the second time he’d been to her house, and it was the second time in just two days. He could have called about the fabric. He could have met her at the office, but instead, here he was, standing in her bedroom, telling her what she can, and cannot do.
He narrowed his eyes. “Look, I’ve worked with Black Rose since I started this job. I understand the commitment it takes to be a part of the team, and, Raven, I know how committed you are to your job. But this is too much. This isn’t your damn case! Someone broke into your house and left you a warning. A warning to stay away. And Raven?” He squared his shoulders. “You will stay the hell away. I won’t have you getting hurt.” He paused, and shifted his weight. “I also understand the delicacy between a private investigator and law enforcement—I get it. But what I don’t get, and what I won’t tolerate, is anyone withholding evidence from one of my cases that could help put a murderer behind bars. You should have called me about the fabric—should have let me handle it.”
She felt her cheeks heat. He was right on all counts, but she’d be damned if she allowed him to stand in her bedroom, in her house, and treat her like a child. Scolding her like a toddler.
She felt her pulse pounding in her neck as she stared into his penetrating gaze. But before she could say one of the hundred obscenities that were rolling around in her head, his phone rang.
He didn’t move a muscle—his eyes remained locked on hers, waiting for her to say something.
Yes sir, probably.
Three rings passed.
“Aren’t you going to get that?”
He grabbed the phone from his belt. “What?... What, where…”
She watched his face fade from anger, to surprise, to an icy focus, and her stomach sank. Something had happened. Something bad.
“…I’ll be there in five. And Hunter, send West to 928 Black Bear Road, Raven Cane’s house. She had a break-in this evening. Scan the hous
e and look for fingerprints. And bag up the stone that was left.”
Click.
“What’s happened?”
He looked at her, hesitated.
“Zander, what’s happened? Another body?”
The twitch in his jaw told her everything she needed to know.
She covered her mouth and whispered, “Oh, my...”
He glanced at her bed, then back at her. “West will be here within five minutes. Pack a bag. You’re not staying here.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and left the room, and she called out after him. “I don’t need West to come. I can dust for fingerprints myself. Just let me…”
He whipped around. “Leave it to us, Raven. I’m serious.”
And with that, he turned around and jogged out the front door.
Her heart raced with adrenaline as she watched his taillights fade into the distance. She took a deep breath.
What a night.
Silence buzzed in her ears as she slowly turned.
Someone had been watching her. Someone broke into her house. Someone wanted to send her a message.
Zander was right. She was getting too close.
Dammit!
She stomped down the hall, into the kitchen, and noticed her phone was illuminated on the counter. She picked it up—one missed call, one voicemail, fifty-eight minutes ago.
She looked at the caller ID.
Claire Banks.
CHAPTER 14
ZANDER FLICKED ON his high beams as he bounced down the deep ruts in the dirt road. Dense woods surrounded him, which were pitch-black in the night.
He glanced at the clock as the adrenaline pulsed through his veins—10:30.
Another fucking body.
Sprinkles of rain dotted his windshield as he rolled to a stop behind Hunter’s patrol car, which was parked behind an ambulance.
Bright lights shot out from behind the small cabin, outlining the steep roof and crooked chimney—apparently the victim was found outside.
He took a quick deep breath, shoved the truck into park, grabbed his jacket, and got out.
“Stone.” Deena emerged from the woods. She shook her head. “Not pretty.”
“Where is she?”
They fell into step together, walking up the rock driveway.
“Backyard.”
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