Cold Hearts

by Stella Hart

  He nodded. “Exactly. The pathologists always find that the victims have been dead for under twelve hours when they are found. However, there has been one exception to this captive rule so far.” He raised his eyes to me. “Can you tell us which one that was?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded weakly. “The first one,” I muttered. I raised my voice. “He killed the first one straight away, without taking them captive.”

  “That’s right. We aren’t sure why, but we’ve found in past cases that a lot of unsubs haven’t yet figured out their MO when they carry out their first kill. That’s all we have to go on right now. Now, moving on to victimology….”

  He kept talking, and I lowered my gaze to the notebook in front of me. Everyone else was furiously taking notes on the lecture, but my page was blank. I didn’t need to make any notes on this subject. I knew everything when it came to the Heartbreaker case. Everything that the cops and FBI were willing to make available to the public, anyway.

  No wonder people thought I was so fucked up.

  West finally finished his lecture twenty minutes later. “Before I let you go, I’d like to tell you about our new internship program,” he said, holding up a sheaf of papers.

  That immediately piqued my interest, and I sat up straight again.

  “Next year, our field office will be taking on two graduates from Chatham’s criminology program to work for us for six months. If you get in, the internship will count for several credits toward your major, and it will provide an unparalleled experience that will also look amazing on your future résumé. These forms here have the nitty-gritty details of how to apply, but basically, you’ll need to write an application essay and pass several other requirements to qualify for the necessary security clearance. Only the best and brightest will be selected, so hit the books!” He paused, and his blue eyes came to rest on me again. “It was great teaching you all today. I hope I wasn’t too bad at lecturing,” he added with a self-deprecating smile.

  I shuffled down to the front with the other students to grab one of the forms. A singular need had taken root in my brain, growing bigger and stronger with each second, coiling itself around every cell like a wild jungle vine.

  I needed to get one of those FBI internship spots for next year, no matter what it took.

  They were still working on the Heartbreaker case, given he was still active, so if I got in, I might be able to see everything they had on the guy. I might even be able to help them catch him somehow. It was a long shot, far too long, but I still had to do it, because I knew I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t do everything I could to find out who the killer was. Every inch of me burned with the need to demand answers from him, and my heart ached with the desperate, clawing need to glimpse his shadowy face.

  Again….

  3

  Celeste

  “Happy birthday… again!”

  I smiled as Samara led me into the bar she’d booked a table at for my birthday dinner. Three of our mutual friends were already there on the other side of the room, wearing silly pink and silver birthday hats with streamers sprouting from the top.

  I quickly turned to Samara. “Thanks for organizing this.”

  I couldn’t remember why I’d been so reticent about coming out earlier. My friends were my lifeline, especially Samara. They were the one bright spot on a dark horizon, given that the rest of my life at the moment involved work, work, more work, study and bad memories.

  Her brown eyes sparkled. “Anytime.” She gently tugged on my ponytail. “God, your hair is getting so dang long. How did I not notice before?”

  “I’m going for the mermaid look.” I smiled and touched my hand to my dark chestnut hair. When it was out, it was almost long enough to reach my ass. I had to admit, I liked it long, but the real reason for its current length was my inability to afford a hair appointment. Many salons charged double or triple to cut longer hair, even if it was just a trim.

  We arrived at the table, and my girlfriends squealed and hugged me.

  “You’re almost old enough to drink here now,” our friend Jade, a tall brunette, said with a wink in lieu of a ‘happy birthday’ greeting. She was a year older than us, so if any of us wanted drinks, she was the one who’d order them and sneak them to us. We only did that in dive bars, though—this place was too nice to risk getting caught and banned. The food here was simply divine.

  The space was small and filled up quickly, and it had the vibe of a cozy speakeasy from times past. Along the wall behind the bar was every hue of liquid in ornate glass bottles; every vice I couldn’t touch for another year… legally. I had a feeling we’d probably hit up another place after this for a few sneaky cocktails, though.

  “So where are the guys I was promised?” my friend Lucy said after we’d ordered our food, arching a teasing brow at Samara. Then she stuck her tongue out at me. “No offence, Celeste. I love you, but she did also tell us there’d be sexy guys at your birthday.”

  I laughed. “None taken. Where are the guys, Samara?”

  I wasn’t holding out much hope that any of the men she’d invited would pique my interest, but I could be wrong. The night was young and filled with possibilities. Maybe I’d finally meet a guy who had that ‘It’ factor I craved. Maybe I’d even meet the man I ended up with.

  Samara flashed us an enigmatic look, one hand twirling a black curl near her ear. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here soon. I told them the wrong time, so we could get in a bit of girl talk first.”

  “Good idea,” chimed in Kit, a curvy blonde girl with massive chunky silver earrings. “I wanted to ask if Celeste got another gift from her secret admirer.” She waggled her brows at me.

  The others all giggled and stared at me with raised eyebrows. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. It was a running joke in our little group that I had a secret admirer, because ever since my seventeenth birthday, I’d received an anonymous gift in the mail each year. The first year, it was a bracelet with a solitary silver heart charm. Every birthday since then, I’d received a small silver heart charm that could be clipped onto the original bracelet. Now I was twenty, and I was up to four charms.

  “Yes,” I said. “I got it in the mail first thing this morning.”

  I smiled reluctantly as I spoke, indulging the girls. They all thought it was cute and funny, but honestly, I found it creepy. I’d moved four times since I was seventeen, and whoever sent the gifts always seemed to keep track of my movements and know exactly where I was at all times.

  “I still think it’s Drew,” Jade said, referring to a guy we all went to high school with. “He always had a crush on you, and he had that weird stalkery vibe, right?”

  “Totally.” Kit nodded with agreement before stuffing a pierogi in her mouth. “Gosh, Samara, did we really need all these entrees?” she added a moment later. “I’m nearly full and our burgers haven’t even arrived!”

  Lucy laughed and shook her head. “You know Sam, she always orders five times as much food than we need.”

  Samara leaned back and patted her stomach. “That’s me, Little Miss Piggy.”

  I met her eyes across the table and smiled, hoping my eyes conveyed how much I adored her. She always did this whenever we went out—ordered far more food than she could possibly eat, then claimed she was too full to finish and asked for it to be bagged up to take home. After that, there’d always be some excuse as to why she couldn’t keep it, and she’d give it all to me.

  I just realized my fridge is too full… why don’t you take it home, Celeste?

  Ugh, I just realized this side dish comes with sauerkraut, and I can’t stand the smell of it. You should take it all, Celeste, I know you love that stuff.

  It was her way of ensuring I had good, hearty meals on at least a semi-regular basis without making me feel ashamed of my financial status. Rent, bills and other such things took up most of my meager income, so my usual daily diet was a typical poor student one, consisting of oatmeal, Ramen, bread and whatever veget
ables were cheapest at the store on the day I chose to do my grocery shopping.

  I couldn’t wait for the day I’d be able to pay Samara back for her kindness and quiet generosity. Everyone else thought I must be doing okay, because I grew up in Fox Chapel and came from a fairly well-off family, so they assumed that I chose to live the way I did to try and prove my independence. They also assumed I could run to the Bank of Mom anytime I got desperate, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Mom got most of Dad’s money when he died, sure, but she’d blown through most of it since then, and the rest was being spent on her medical fees. There was a small trust fund my father set up for me the day I was born, but I couldn’t touch that until I turned twenty-one next year.

  Samara was the only one who knew every detail of my true circumstances. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust anyone else. I just didn’t like to talk about it much; didn’t like people to feel sorry for me. I had enough of that in my early years after my father’s premature death.

  When we were all stuffed, Jade leaned back and rubbed her bloated belly. “I’m not sure I want to meet any guys now,” she said with a groan. “I just want to curl up in a ball and digest.”

  “Too bad. They just walked in,” Samara said, craning her neck toward the entrance.

  I followed the direction of her gaze, my eyebrows slightly raised. My hopes deflated again as I caught sight of the men she’d invited. Already, I could tell they weren’t for me. They were all cute, but some crucial element was still missing.

  I blew out a frustrated breath. I wasn’t mad at the guys or anyone else—I was mad at myself for being so picky. What if I was passing up great guy after great guy because of this esoteric need of mine? What if that need didn’t even exist, and I was just making excuses because I had some sort of deep-seated commitment issues? That made sense, given the fact I couldn’t even identify what this ‘It’ factor I was searching for was.

  I pasted on a bright smile and made the decision to at least try with one of these guys. Maybe the cute blond one. He had nice eyes.

  He was a nice person, too. We chatted for a while about generic things, though we practically had to shout to make ourselves heard. The bar was packed now, and conversations were all told in loud voices, competing with each other and the music.

  Samara nudged me. “Let’s blow this joint. Getting too busy,” she said, mirroring my thoughts. “We’ll drop the food off at mine first, and then we’ll get an Uber to that bar we went to last time.”

  “Sure.” I turned to the blond guy I’d been talking to—shit, I already forgot his name—and he nodded with agreement.

  Samara told everyone else about the new plan, and we picked up our bags and trudged outside into the brisk cold.

  “They said it might snow again tonight,” Blond Guy said to me, raising his brows. “Want my jacket?”

  I gestured toward my coat. “Thanks, but this is fine. Nice and snug.”

  “No worries. Can’t believe it’s already snowing this early in the season.”

  I nodded and smiled. Small talk about the weather was fine, but I didn’t want his jacket. Despite my earlier vow to give him a chance, I knew this guy wasn’t the one for me, and I didn’t want to lead him on by taking his stuff.

  While the guys sorted out the exact details of tonight’s plan with Samara and Jade—organizing where to meet later, who was going with who, and so on—I tilted my face to the sky. Ever since I was a kid, I’d been able to tell when snow was about to fall. There wasn’t an exact aroma I could describe to anyone, just a vague smell of bitter coldness and a strange sense of stillness. Right now, there was nothing like that in the air. Only the rancid odors of fuel and machine oil that’d drifted over in the wind from some factory.

  It had been raining while we were in the bar, though. The pavement was wet and dotted with little bits of ice from where the rain droplets had frozen on contact with the cold ground.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Samara said, nodding in my direction. “Car’s that way.”

  We started walking. As we passed an alley not far from the bar, I slipped on a piece of ice and yelped, my heart seemingly stopping as my legs gave way from under me. Thoughts of doom filled my head in that split-second, but two strong arms shot out and grabbed me just before I fell and cracked my skull open on the hard pavement.

  Drawing in deep, terrified breaths as I realized just how close I’d come to seriously hurting myself, I let the person’s arms cradle me for a moment before they set me back on my feet.

  “Shit, Celeste, are you okay?” Samara grabbed my shoulder, her voice frantic. “This fucking ice!”

  “I’m okay,” I muttered. I took another deep breath and looked up at my savior.

  Holy hell. It was a man, but not just any man. He looked like he’d just stepped off a billboard. Tall with dark wind-ruffled hair and a classically handsome face. Thick, brooding brows and intense dark blue eyes that reminded me of the ocean, clear and bright yet with hidden depths. There was something oddly familiar about him, but I couldn’t place him.

  “Wow,” I heard Lucy murmur from somewhere behind me.

  Wow indeed. The man was good-looking, almost blindingly so, but something about his gaze made me shiver despite the warm cocoon of my coat. He exuded an icy, menacing sexiness that froze me to the spot, leaving me unable to determine whether he was a chilling threat or someone I wanted to fantasize about.

  Or both.

  I gulped, then choked out a few words of gratitude. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. I didn’t get a chance to say anything else before he continued on his way down the pavement in the opposite direction.

  “He was hot,” Lucy said breathily. “You totally should’ve gotten his number.”

  “Mm.” I barely responded. The man’s eyes were still playing on my mind, already haunting me with their deep intensity. “Let’s go,” I added hurriedly, grabbing Samara’s hand so I wouldn’t slip again.

  My rescuer was the most captivating man I’d ever laid eyes on. Still, I never wanted to see him again. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but the most primal part of my mind had screamed one word at me from the second I heard his voice.

  Run.

  4

  Alex

  ‘Thanks for looking out for me’.

  They were the first words we ever exchanged. The first eye contact we ever shared.

  If only this sparkling-eyed little girl knew how ironic her offhand comment of gratitude was. But she didn’t, of course. I was far too careful for that. She lived her life in blissful ignorance of what went on around her; what kind of people were watching out for her.

  I didn’t smile back at her. “You’re welcome,” I said in a neutral voice before nodding and continuing down the sleety path. I didn’t want to hang around any longer and make any sort of lasting impression on her. It was a mistake for me to even help her at a time like this, to let her see me at all, but I couldn’t exactly let her fall and smash her head on the hard ground. Even cold-hearted killers had souls, after all.

  I turned my head over my shoulder a moment later, watching Celeste laugh and chat with her friends as they headed the other way. I could still make out their loud young voices from here, and I ducked around a corner into a dank alley as I listened to them make plans to hit up another bar in celebration of Celeste’s birthday.

  “And then you can just come crash at my place afterwards, if you want,” her dark-haired friend was saying now. “Someone needs to eat these spare burgers and pierogies!”

  I smiled thinly. Good. With the girl out of the way for at least the next few hours, if not the entire night, I had the chance to carry out this week’s plans at a far more leisurely pace than initially intended.

  I briskly walked back to my car and made the fifteen minute drive to Celeste’s tiny house in Larimer. I never parked right outside her place. That would be fucking stupid. I stopped around the corner like I always did, near the vac
ant lot on the side of her place, and then I swiftly strode into the grassy lot and headed toward the trees and chain-link fence that surrounded her pitiful postage-stamp sized yard.

  In the darkness, no one could spot me climbing over the fence and ducking between the trees behind her house, but I was careful anyway. She had a nosy neighbor who always kept an eye out. Looking over to her house, I saw that her curtains were drawn shut. I was safe to let myself into Celeste’s place, as long as I didn’t turn any of her lights on.

  Stepping up to the back porch, I slid my shoes off before taking a few steps across it, slowly, carefully. This porch was a creaky old bitch. Making it to the back door, I used my key and slipped inside. No one knew I had this key, obviously, but it was amazing what dodgy landlords would hand out for a thousand bucks in cash. Didn’t hurt that I had a trustworthy face, either. At least that’s what I’d been told. People truly were idiots. They all assumed that the scruffy guy hanging out on their street corner or under the closest bridge was the one they should be most afraid of. Not me. Never me. But I was the most dangerous man they’d ever encounter.

  I made my way into Celeste’s cramped living space. The kitchen was clean and spartan—nothing on the counter but an old microwave and two letters. A small silver bar fridge sat in the alcove where a proper refrigerator was supposed to go.

  I turned my phone’s flashlight app on and held the envelopes from the counter up to the light. Just as I thought. Letters informing Celeste of an overdrawn account or late bills.

  I continued into the tiny living room, holding out my little light. Like the rest of the house, it had beamed ceilings and a shitty paintjob. No typical living room furniture, unless you counted the worn leather chair and small table squished into the corner. That was where she usually kept her laptop, an old, barely-functioning thing she’d picked up off Craigslist.