Of course she would be someone who went to a gym, while I’d forgotten what those things looked like on the inside.
Cole leaned back as he rubbed a finger over his brow. “We started off as friends, and I knew it was more for her even from the beginning. She even asked me out first, and we dated for about a year and a half before I proposed to her.”
A horrible, completely irrational twisting motion compressed my chest. I left him, I reminded myself. I had no right to be upset or . . . or jealous of the fact he proposed to someone.
“We married six months later. Small ceremony,” he continued, and I worked to keep my expression open. “Irene is a great woman. We still stay in contact. It’s not often, but I always enjoy seeing her. She did nothing wrong in the marriage.”
Genuinely curious, I asked, “Then what happened?”
A wry smile formed on his lips. “I worked a lot, so I was away from home quite often. She tried to be okay with that, really she did. And I kept telling myself the reason why I worked twelve-hour shifts was because I was new at the FBI. I had to put my time in. Then she wanted to start a family, and that . . . that was the last thing I wanted. God’s honest truth, the moment she sat me down and said she wanted a baby, I didn’t even think about it. Told her that wasn’t happening. Felt like a huge dick, but that’s what I did. She said she was okay with that, and I think she really wanted to be. Truth was, she wasn’t, and I should’ve done the right thing then and ended the marriage.”
Cole shifted forward, resting his arms on his bent legs. “Two years ago, she asked me if I loved her or the job more, and that was when we separated, then divorced. I messed up. I really did. I’m not perfect, Sasha. I should’ve been honest with myself and her. As horrible as it is to say this, I should’ve never married her. Doing so made me the kind of man I never wanted to be.”
I sucked in a soft breath.
“She’s moved on since. Met someone. A doctor, actually. They’ll probably be married within a year.”
Okay. I was way too happy to hear that last part, and that probably didn’t say good things about me. “I . . .” I started to say I was sorry to hear that, because that was the natural response when you learned someone had divorced, but that sure as hell wouldn’t be genuine considering he’d already given me one orgasm and how I felt for him. So I decided to be honest. “I don’t know what to say, Cole. I want to say I’m sorry, but I’m . . . I’m not.” Lifting my gaze to his, I ignored the warmth zipping across my face. “If you were still with her, then we wouldn’t be sitting here.”
His eyes softened. “Babe . . .”
“But I’m wondering if . . . if we’re moving way too fast with everything,” I admitted, and my pulse started skyrocketing again. “Everything has been crazy, and it’s only been a week since we’ve laid eyes on each other and—”
“I haven’t told you everything,” he said.
I stiffened even though I imagined there was a lot he hadn’t had a chance to tell me.
Cole smiled. “For the longest time, I’d convinced myself that it was the job that came between us—the job that made me not even consider having kids.”
My brows snapped together. “It wasn’t?”
“No, babe. It wasn’t the job. As much as I love what I do, I never wanted it to be my life. I made it my life though. What came between Irene and me wasn’t the FBI. It was you.”
“What?” I jerked.
“You heard me right.” He took my hand, holding it between his. “It was you. It’s always been you.”
Oh my God.
Oh. My. God.
My pulse was all over the place for a totally different reason now. “I . . .”
A thunderous series of raps knocked off the interior apartment door. “Cole? Sasha? Are you two in there?”
“That’s Tyron.” Frowning, Cole rose swiftly from the couch. I followed him. He opened the door, and over his shoulder I saw my mother standing behind the detective, her face pale and worried. “What’s going on?” Cole asked.
My stomach knotted with dread.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but this couldn’t wait.” The detective was holding a clear plastic bag, and inside of it was the package I’d gotten out of the mail. “This was behind the desk. Sasha, did you bring it inside?”
“Yeah,” I answered, stepping to Cole’s side. “Why are you asking?”
“I was on my way out when your mother picked up the mail from behind the desk,” he explained.
“It was leaking,” Mom added.
“Leaking?” I whispered. “Leaking what?”
“Have you opened it?” Cole demanded.
Detective Conrad shook his head. “I wanted to get her permission first.”
“You have my permission,” I told him, glancing at Mom. I noticed the guy from forensics was also in the hallway.
Detective Conrad turned, handing the bagged package over to the man. That’s when I saw that the corner of the package was a darker color of brown. I reached out, placing my hand on Cole’s arm.
The man reached inside with a gloved hand. Using a small knife, he carefully peeled one end open as Mom folded her arms. “Did you see where it was from?” she asked. “Who sent it?”
I shook my head. “I glanced at it, but I didn’t really look at it. I got distracted and set it down . . .”
“Sasha,” she whispered, and the dread exploded like buckshot.
The investigator eased out a black cardboard box the size of the package. It looked like a plain gift box to me. I held my breath as he opened it.
“Oh goodness!” Mom clapped her hands over her mouth and quickly twisted to the side.
“Holy shit,” the man said, turning to Detective Conrad. “You’re going to want to see this.”
“What is it?” I stepped forward, but only got so far, because suddenly Cole was in front of me and out in the hall. “Mom—?”
Cole cursed as the detective planted his hands on his hips, and that horrible feeling spread like a noxious weed, choking me as I stepped out in the hall.
Cole shifted, trying to hide what the investigator held, but I got between him and the detective. My mouth dropped open as I jolted back, bumping into the wall outside my apartment. Disbelief flooded me.
“No,” I whispered. “No way.”
Cole faced me, and there was a different set of emotions etched into his features. He took a step toward me, but I held up my hand. I needed the space—a moment, because what was in the box was wrong on so many levels.
It was a finger.
A woman’s finger.
Chapter 19
A deep numbness seeped in through my skin, right into my muscle and bone. There was a finger in a box sent to me. A woman’s finger. The bubblegum-pink polish was typically a dead giveaway on that.
“Honey.” Mom rubbed my arm. “Maybe you should go sit down.”
Shaking my head, I leaned against the wall. I didn’t want to go sit down or move. My eyes were glued to the three men. Detective Conrad was on the phone. Cole was bent slightly, eyeing the package the investigator held.
I dragged in air, but it seemed to go nowhere. There was a huge part of me that couldn’t believe what I had seen. A part of my brain that absolutely just shut down and belly-flopped into denial.
This wasn’t happening.
My throat dried. “There was a finger in that box,” I whispered.
Cole’s head swung sharply in my direction and a heartbeat later, he said, “You hanging in there?” When I nodded, he glanced down at Mom. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything,” she replied.
“Call Miranda and get her over here,” Cole said, voice low. “Let her know what happened. Stress the importance of keeping that quiet.”
I pushed off the wall. “She doesn’t need to be here. I just need a few minutes to myself—”
“That is not what you need. This is some serious shit, Sasha. You’re telling me you’re fine. Maybe you are right
now but that might change, and when that does, I want you surrounded by people who care about you instead of being by yourself.”
“He’s right, honey.” Mom squeezed my arm. “Let me call Miranda.”
About to protest again, I stopped. I nodded. Taking a few minutes seemed normal to most people, but for me, those few minutes could turn into years.
Mom hurried off down the hall while Cole took my hand and led me back into the apartment. He left the door ajar behind us as he tugged on my hand, pulling me toward him.
I went even though my first instinct was to pull away. He folded his arms around me, one hand on the center of my back and the other curling around the nape of my neck. He slid his hand up and down my spine.
Closing my eyes, I face-planted into his chest and welcomed the comfort of his warmth and touch. I took a shallow breath and repeated, “There was a finger in the box.”
“Yeah, babe, there was.” His tone was somber. “Tyron’s going to need to talk to you again.”
My fingers curled around his shirt. “That was a woman’s finger.”
He didn’t respond to that, and he didn’t need to, because I knew his thoughts had gone where mine had. The Groom always removed the ring finger of his victims. Always. For that—
I drew back, remembering that there was something about the package I didn’t know. “What was the address?”
Cole’s chest rose with a deep breath, but before he could respond, there was a knock on the door. “Yeah?” he called out.
“It’s me,” Detective Conrad said. “All right to come in?”
“Yes.” I stepped back, and Cole dropped one arm but kept his other arm around my waist as the detective came in. He left the door open. “Detective Conrad—”
“Call me Tyron,” he said.
“Okay.” I tried again. “What was the address on the package? Did it say who it was from?”
He stared at me a moment and then his gaze flickered above me. Looking over his shoulder, he called out, “Chris, can you bring the package in here?”
Bile rose as the investigator came back in, and my stomach only settled a little when I realized the package was closed and back in the plastic bag.
“Show her the address,” Tyron instructed.
Cole stiffened beside me and his hand slipped to the center of my back, but he didn’t stop the investigator when he lifted the baggy and turned it over.
At first the words sort of blurred together, and maybe I had recognized the name and address immediately but my brain refused to process them.
Because the address no longer existed.
And the name, the initials—I knew what V. Joan stood for.
Vernon Joan.
A sharp slice of panic lit up my stomach and my chest compressed. “Impossible.” My gaze darted from Tyron to Cole. “That’s impossible. That house was torn down and he . . .”
“The Groom is dead,” Tyron finished for me. “But someone obviously is saying something with this package.”
“But what could they be saying?” I looked at the baggy Chris held, and my mind went to the worst possible place. Only things nightmares were made of could be told with a package like that and with that address information.
“God.” I placed my hand around my throat. “What is going on?”
There was no answer.
At least none any of us wanted to hear.
Tyron posed the same questions Derek and Cole had asked after my car had been vandalized and the deer had been left in my mother’s truck, then he left, along with the investigator.
Cole remained, having already gone out to his truck and grabbed a gym bag. He deposited it on my couch and then turned to me. “It’s time for you to tell your mom what happened with her truck.”
Sighing, I closed my eyes. A moment passed. “This is insane.”
“I know. I wish I could tell you something that wouldn’t scare you, but this . . . this isn’t looking good.”
Wanting a glass of wine or maybe an entire bottle of it, I sat on the arm of the couch. I stared up at him. “What do you think is happening here? I want you to be honest with me and don’t try to hide anything.”
“My first thoughts?” Cole crossed his arms. “Someone is fixated on what happened here in the past. That package practically screams it, but this isn’t a harmless fixation some idiot develops. That was a person’s finger.”
“And unless that finger belonged to the person who sent it and they willingly cut off their own finger, it belonged to . . .” Trailing off, I bit down on my lip. The worst possible thought popped into my head. Angela was missing. What if it was her finger?
Cole walked over to me and placed his hands on my legs. His eyes met mine. “I hate to say that and I don’t want to scare you, but all of this is linking back to you.”
There was no denying that. I shuddered. I wanted to ask why, but I knew it had something to do with the Groom. What exactly it was I didn’t understand.
“Do you think what happened to Angela has something to do with me?” I asked, almost afraid of his answer.
He shook his head. “That I don’t know. Could be unrelated, but it could not be.”
“God,” I whispered and exhaled roughly. “I wish I could’ve seen that man’s face from yesterday.”
Cole studied me. “Truth is, if that person really did take Angela’s key and if he has anything to do with the other stuff, he’s been in here. He knew how to get in here.”
“So many people could know about that tunnel, Cole. It’s on the historic registry, for crying out loud.” Suddenly remembering I had a visitor today, I almost popped off the arm of the couch. “The mayor stopped by today. I totally forgot.”
Cole frowned. “What did he want?”
“He’d heard about what happened yesterday, but he wasn’t really checking on me to see if I was okay. He basically told me that I shouldn’t have come back here.”
“What?” His shoulders tensed. “What did he say exactly?”
I told him the best I could remember. “Isn’t that weird? I mean, I get that if I went to the media, it would drag up the past, but seriously, what would be the big deal? There has to be more to this.”
“There has to be.” He squinted. “Got to admit, I didn’t entirely dismiss him when you mentioned him the first time. I just doubt he had anything to do with the vandalism.”
I wasn’t surprised. “And now?”
“Still not sure. What could be the motive? That’s the thing I’m not getting here.”
“Ditto,” I muttered. “I don’t know who else could be behind this, but what happened—that thing in the box—that’s a whole different level. This isn’t someone fooling around. This . . . this is terrifying,” I repeated.
In a way, it was even more frightening than before, because I hadn’t seen the Groom coming, but I saw this. There was no escaping it, no obliviousness.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Cole promised, squeezing my knees. “I’m going to keep you safe.”
I lifted my gaze to his. “I’m going to keep myself safe.” I paused, and I was. I wasn’t a fainting damsel in distress. I’d been through the worst, and I would protect myself. I also needed to stop being stupid when it came to accepting protection. “But I’ll let you help.”
His lips twitched up on one side. “That’s my girl.”
Placing my hands over his, I let out a shaky breath. A tendril of fear curled around my throat. “This is scary, Cole.”
Taking my hands, he hauled me up and to his chest once more. His embrace was tight and full of strength. He bent his head, brushing his lips over my forehead. “We’re going to figure out what the hell is going on.” Pulling back, he said, “I’m going to make a few calls. Mind if I hang in here to do that?”
“Who are you calling?” I asked.
Till Death Page 21
