by Trisha Wolfe
I shake my head, and immediately regret it. Pain lashes out at my temples. “No. Not until you tell me everything.”
He stands and backs up a step, keeping his gaze on me while offering me some distance. “I read your profile on the Roanoke Roper—” He waves a hand. “Sorry. Old habits. I mean, I read your profile on the Roanoke serial killer when I first got assigned as a detective on the case. It was my first actual case as a detective.”
“That had to be tough,” I say.
He releases a clipped breath. “Yeah. And I won’t lie, I mocked your profile. I didn’t buy into that shi—” he breaks off “—that analytic stuff back then. Truthfully, I was following Detective Quinn’s lead after he was called in to head up the investigation once it was upgraded to a serial killer case.”
“I remember. He wasn’t too thrilled about my profile, either.” It was the second time I’d been assigned to one of Quinn’s cases, and it was the one that put a bad taste in his mouth for me. Despite my tireless work on the profile, and his month spent away from his department to work a high profile case, the UNSUB was never apprehended.
It remains a cold case now.
“You were targeting Julian,” I say, continuing to ply the pieces together.
Carson nods. “Once I closed in on him, the killings stopped. I knew it was him. I had a feeling. There was just something off about that guy…and man, I wanted to nail him so bad. But he had an alibi. ”
“But the victims of the Roanoke killings were all prostitutes,” I say, mentally examining the case and profile, trying to figure out how he could’ve possibly made that connection. “I didn’t profile the last victim, but from what I recall, she wasn’t a prostitute.”
Carson squares his shoulders. “I was working an angle back then.” He turns and heads to his desk where he pulls out a couple of files from the side-drawer. “The girlfriend discovered the truth and he disposed of her, just like the others. I thought it was a sloppy cover, but no one else agreed with me.”
I run my sweat-slicked palms over my jeans and shake my head. “Weren’t you just scolding me earlier today about theories and speculations? That’s really reaching, Carson.”
He flips open a file. “Like I said, it was my first case. I’ve learned a lot since then, but I wasn’t that far off.” He tweaks out a page from the folder and walks around the desk to hand it to me. “I believe gut instinct is still the best weapon a detective has.”
A sickness coats my stomach as I read the report. “Where did you get this?”
“I’m a detective, Agent Bonds. That’s what I do. I detect and investigate. One thing about cities you live in your whole life? Information is easy to come by from the locals. Not much skill needed there.”
I stand and fold the page, then slip it into my pocket.
“You can’t take that—”
“I wish you would’ve approached me back then, Carson. I really do. I would’ve saved you a lot of wasted hours.” I turn to leave, but Carson catches my wrist.
On reflex, I twist my arm, breaking out of his hold and securing his arm. He yanks me in close to him, my body flush against his. “I’ve invested a whole lot more than hours into this case, Sadie. I’ve lost a girlfriend, become distant with my family, moved away from my home city…all in pursuit of this killer. And I’m not about to let you walk out of here without us coming to an understanding.”
I stay locked onto his hard gaze, noticing for the first time the flecks of gold in his brown irises. His measured breaths are slow and long as he keeps me firmly in place against him.
“Obsession is a hell of a thing,” I say, and yank myself free of his grasp.
A muscle feathers along his jaw. Then his stern features shift, easing into a lighter expression. He clears his throat. “This is your turf. I get that. I’m the new kid on the block.” He smiles, but it’s forced. Not his usual, easy charm. “Just give me the respect of keeping me in the loop. I’ve put a lot into this…and I want to be the one to bring them in.”
My eyebrows knit together. “Them?”
Carson cocks his head. “I couldn’t get past Julian’s alibi before. So I had to drop it. I made one critical error back then; I was so focused on Julian that I failed to see that there were two killers, not one.”
An ache burns my throat. I push past the pain and say, “You think Julian had a partner. A killing team.”
He nods slowly. “Your profile missed that, too. But that’s okay. They’re really good at what they do. And I mean, who better to cover your back than your own brother? I know he has what I’m looking for.”
The air leaves the room, forcing my lungs to struggle for their next breath. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m stepping close to Carson and staring up into his face. “Have you told this inane theory to Quinn yet?”
He holds my stare. Licks his lips. “This inane theory is actually one of Quinn’s.”
And in a moment, all Quinn’s probing about teams and how they work comes back to me. He never quit testing the theory that there could be more than one killer; a team working together. He just wasn’t working that angle with me.
I back up, keeping Carson in my sight. “You have the wrong person,” I say, reaching behind my back for the doorknob. “If you bring Colton Reed in for questioning, you’re going to waste even more time. Your obsession with his brother just won’t allow you to see that.”
His eyes narrow as he crosses his arms. “Your profile lines up with Julian pretty well, Sadie. Once you see that, you’ll also realize you just didn’t think to profile a second killer.”
My mouth pops open to say more, but I force my lips closed. Wasted breath on my part, and I’ve heard enough from him. I shake my head and leave before I’m forced to do bodily harm to the prick detective.
As I make my way back toward my office, the page in my pocket feels hot, burning with the evidence of Colton’s inciting incident—the trigger that derailed him. In the hands of a detective like Carson, it’s damning evidence that could help build a case against Colton. Paint him as an accomplice in a murder.
But Carson doesn’t have all the specifics.
Critical details that bridge speculation and fact. Those variables construct an unbelievable, beastly reality that Carson could never conceive. He’s still too much of a rookie; unable to think outside the box. And although he’s twisted the profiles to meet his needs, his obsessive work did enlighten me on a possibility that I didn’t consider before.
I’ve been hunting for the UNSUB in all the wrong places. College, colleagues…past, unsolved serial cases. Though I was getting close, I wouldn’t have been able to make this leap without Carson. I finally have a real starting point to start digging. Although I know—from our rocky start—Quinn isn’t going to like this new angle. I need to get some tangible evidence before I bring it to him.
I grab my jacket and bag. After locking up, I leave the madness of the department behind, on a mission of my own disastrous making. In the hallway, I slip on my jacket and feel my burner phone vibrate against my hip.
I pull it out and light the screen. One missed call from Colton.
My heart stutters. Gripping the phone tight, I check the call time. Fifteen minutes ago, when I was ready to tear Carson apart. It’s like the universe is mocking me. Colton and I are connected so irrevocably that he doesn’t just know what I need; he knows when I need it.
I’ve been selfish. Colton offered me redemption and acceptance, and a safe haven to feel free. He said it was a power exchange. That what he gave, he took back equally, but that’s not entirely true.
I’m like a black hole. Sucking all the air and light from everyone around me. The only thing I will ever be able to offer him is pain. I knew this from the start, but I thought—just maybe—he would be strong enough to endure it.
He sets me free, and my love is fear. That is the true exchange between us.
As I push through the door to the M.E.’s lab, I know that I’m about to cause him even more pain. I�
�m going to rip his bandage away and reopen his wound. I just have to trust that I’m strong enough for him to break against.
Truth is the most brutal punishment. It forces us to learn who we are.
“Avery, I need your help.”
The M.E. spins around, a scalpel in her hand. “Jesus, Sadie. Try not to creep up on people when they’re holding objects of death.” She sets down the instrument and begins to pull a sheet over the body.
“Wait. Is that the riverbank vic?” I start toward her, but she holds up a hand.
“I’ve had a long night, Sadie. I just started the autopsy after finally getting the mother’s approval. I’m not ready to answer anything just yet.” She rolls off her gloves and combs her fingers through her long blond hair.
“I’m not here to harass. I know you’re working as hard as you can.” I lean against the table next to her. “The victim’s mother lives here?”
She cuts her eyes at me. “You can’t help it, can you?” I suppress a smile, and she sighs. “No. In New York, and I know it’s painful, but the autopsy is needed.”
With a soft groan, Avery turns around and pushes up the sheet to reveal the vic’s legs. “The bruising around her ankles is worse than around her wrists or any other part of her body. And when Quinn let me in on the decorative blood at the scene, I had a theory… But I need to finish my examination first.”
I allow my gaze to take in the dark, battered skin. The color is nearly black compared to the rest of her pale flesh. “She’s so white. She looks like a ghost.”
Avery’s eyebrows pull together. “Are you all right?”
I nod, waving her off. “Just tired. So you’re thinking she was exsanguinated.”
“Actually, yes.” She points to the marks again. “Probably strung upside down by her ankles, then the offender sliced her carotid. Her heart did all the work. She’s completely drained of blood.”
“Would that be enough to cover the grass at the crime scene?”
“I’m running tests on the samples brought in on the reeds, determining if it’s all the same blood type and a match to the victim’s. It’s possible he diluted her blood to make it stretch…or—”
“Or he drained more than one person to get his desired effect,” I finish.
She grimaces. “Go home, Sadie. Open up a bottle of wine, watch stupid reality TV, and get some rest.”
I glance at the time on my phone. “Almost nine. You going to take your own advice?”
She looks down at the body, then at me. “I have been feeling a little under the weather, but maybe I’ll just sleep in. I need to finish here.” She smiles, and it’s comforting. Proof that, in this world surrounded by death, I surround myself with the people who easily fit in to this dark realm. “What did you need?”
Peeking at my phone again, I glimpse Colton’s missed call. We’re supposed to meet in less than ten minutes, and I’m here—at the place I tried so hard not to go.
With a determined breath, I fill my lungs. Then I put my phone away and roll back my sleeve. Avery watches me with guarded wonder, but she doesn’t question as I grab a pair of scissors from her table and snip a thread from the rope.
I hand it to her, finally looking up to meet her curious eyes. “Please keep this between us. Quinn, and especially Carson, have no business knowing. This doesn’t concern them.”
She nods as she accepts the thread. “Okay, but just what am I looking for?”
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “I need to know what kind of material it is. And I need to know its origin.”
“Shit, Sadie…”
“It may be nothing,” I assure her. “But, I need it compared with the ropes from every crime scene. If you can somehow make that happen soon—”
“I will,” she says, taking my hand in hers. “And whatever you’ve gotten yourself involved in, get out of it. I refuse to have you lying on my table. I will figure out a way to bring you back just so I can kill you if that happens.”
Her concern brings a smile to my face. “I’m beyond careful. I promise. I’m just…chasing a lead.”
“All right.” She releases my hand and places the sample of rope into an evidence bag. I watch with a heavy pressure bearing down on my chest as she seals it shut.
Carson was wrong about most of his theory, but unfortunately, he was also utterly right on one aspect: I did make a mistake on the Roanoke profile. There were two killers.
And the second killer is letting me know just how badly I fucked up.
Without You
Colton
“We were advised that you had a weapon.” The officer who clubbed me over the back of my head stands before me with his hands anchored on his belt.
“By who?” My anger ramps as I rub at the rising knot on my head. Not only am I surrounded by four of Arlington’s finest, but their interference prevented me from getting to Sadie.
I look around the cop¸ trying to see down the dark alleyway. I’m close to throwing a punch if he doesn’t get out of my way.
“We’re not at liberty to give you that information,” the cop says, eying me suspiciously. I was the one attacked, yet he’s treating me as if I attacked him. I need to get out of this. I need to find Sadie.
“Fine. You apprehended my cell phone—which is clearly not a weapon. I’d like to leave now. I’m still working.” I nod toward the club.
He says something into his shoulder mic, holding out a hand to stop me. Pissed, I lean back against the cop car, my gaze trained on the alley. It’s vacant. Like she just vanished.
I wipe my hand down my face, tension bleeding into every muscle. She could’ve come here for me, but then realized cops were watching the club. She fled before they made her. No. That doesn’t feel right. I’m searching for an excuse—because I can’t consider the other possibilities.
Still, there’s no reason to explain why she was dancing with that guy—the asshole that led her outside in the first place, to where the cops ambushed me. If I didn’t know better, and if I didn’t trust her…it almost feels like a set-up. That realization sets my skin aflame, blood firing through my heart blistering-hot.
I knew she would discover the truth. I just thought she’d come to me. Not put a stakeout on the club to apprehend me blindly.
All that doesn’t matter, though. Because she’s still out there. Somewhere with some guy. Where she’s being stalked. I can’t get that out of my head; I can’t see fucking straight about any of this because she’s out there where a fucking killer is stalking her.
The cop’s radio discharges an order to get further details and he opens the backdoor of his squad car. “We need you to come into the station and give a statement.”
This captures my full attention and I drop my hand, the pain forgotten. “I can give you that statement right here,” I say. I know my rights. And I know how this works. Bring me in on some bogus misunderstanding, and get me into an interrogation room where I could be held up to forty-eight hours.
Julian went through this. I avoided it because I ran. I called him a coward for not dealing, but I was the one who left. He stuck around to take the heat while I tried to forget. It’s possible my anger and fear blinded me to just how much of a coward I really am.
The cop to his right moves in closer, making my hackles raise. “It really would be best if you come with us to make your statement.”
A car door slams. Then, “I’ll take it from here, boys.”
I recognize the gruff voice before I even turn to see the detective. The one who came to my apartment with Sadie a week ago. I feel the impending inevitable slithering up my spine, forewarning me that this is it.
I wish I could’ve spent one more minute with my goddess. I should’ve worked up the courage to tell her myself, instead of letting it end like this. I have a mountain of regret, so this one, small wish shouldn’t devastate me—but it sits in my stomach like a fucking bolder. Dragging me to the depths.
“Mr. Reed, how are you doing tonight?” Detec
tive Quinn asks as he shows me his shield to identify himself.
“I remember you,” I say. “And I guess I’ve had better nights.” I point to my head. “Your officers have a hell of an aim.”
His mouth twists into a crooked grin. “Sorry about that. This serial killer case has everyone a bit jumpy.” He nods to my bandaged knuckles. “What happened to your hand?”
I guess that doesn’t look good. “Club renovations,” I answer quickly.
Quinn looks at me for a long moment, sussing something out before he says, “Let’s take a ride. We’ll work out the details on the way.”
“Am I free to go?” I ask, knowing that this is the one thing he’s required to tell me. “Or am I being charged with something?”
His smile falls. “You’re free to go, but I strongly suggest you offer your cooperation for the time being.”
I smirk. Damn cops always needing my cooperation. I guess I owe them that much. They were very cooperative during Marni’s investigation. Just provide them with the right evidence, and they did the rest of the work.
Resigned, I follow him toward his car, the weight of my crime bearing down on me.
He opens the passenger-side door, and I don’t question why I’m getting special treatment over the rest of the criminals. I take a seat as he walks around the car.
Time passes in tense silence, thickening the air of the cab as he takes the scenic route to the station. The radio crackles to life, and he lowers the volume.
“There’s a detective waiting at the station to question you,” he says, startling the quiet.
I drum my fingers against my knee, my hand itching to get to my phone. “I assume he’s the one who came to the club earlier today looking for my brother.”
“Yep. That’s the one.” He glances over at me as he takes a right. “Carson’s had a lot of pressure on him lately. I’m not making any excuses for him. Just letting you know. This job wears on even the young detectives. You’d think they’d be able to handle the stress better then the old dogs, but they tend to get worked up pretty easily.”
