“What’s going on?” Dylan asks. He helps his mom into a chair and stands protectively between her and me with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why did you make her cry?”
I stare at him, exasperated. I’m not handling this well at all. “I didn’t mean to,” I finally say.
At the same time, Shayla says, “Dylan, it’s alright. It’s not his fault.”
He turns sharply to her. “I’m not listening to you protect another man. I don’t care if it is my father!”
Shay and I speak in unison again. She says, “Dylan!” While I say, “What is he talking about?”
Shayla puts her hands on either side of Dylan’s face. He looks at her with a childlike pleading, mixed with protectiveness. “Dylan, I’m not protecting your dad. If you’d let him explain, we’d both understand. I don’t know what’s going on either.”
“Fine.” He faces me with a stern expression. I see myself, as well as my father in him. It’s a little scary.
“Can we sit?”
He nods and we sit at the table with the two of them on one side and me on the other. I reach out a hand to both, Shayla immediately grabs mine, but Dylan moves slowly. Once his hand is in mine, I squeeze it gently.
“I love you both, more than I can even put into words.
Dylan shoots up out of his seat. His hands grip his hair tightly. “Oh, crap. You’re freaking leaving, aren’t you? I knew it was too good to be true!”
I can’t help the chuckle that leaves my mouth. Not that anything about this is funny, but the kid is adorable. He reminds me of his mother when she’s angry.
“Son, I’m not going anywhere. Please, sit back down and listen.” He does, so I continue. “Thank you. When I worked for the FBI, I was undercover on a lot of assignments. Some of those were with very dangerous people. My last case, before I moved here, was to gather evidence against a mob boss named Jason Mathis. Mathis was a beast to take down. It took me almost two years. I didn’t speak to my family at all during that time. I missed my dad’s funeral. It was a tough time for me, but in the end, I put him behind bars. However, a few weeks ago, I learned he was released when a key witness recanted her testimony. I don’t have all the details, but he’s out. He’s supposed to be under watch until the new hearing, but this morning someone delivered this to your mom.”
I pull the box out of my coat pocket and sit it on the table. I take a deep breath and open it, setting the small figure on top of the box. Dylan throws his head back and laughs. I chuckle with him, but not out of humor, more from ridiculousness.
“So an origami fox has caused you to lose your mind?” Shayla asks, a smirk on her sexy lips.
“Seriously, Dad. It’s not a bomb,” Dylan jokes.
I know it’s silly, but this is serious. I slam my hand down on the table as I stand to lean over towards them. They both jump and sit back in their chairs. The laughter is gone.
“This may be a stupid folded piece of paper to you, but to me it’s how he marks his victims. Every murder this guy has ever committed, he’s left a fox on the dead body. Dead, Dylan.” I hold it out to him. “He sent this to your mother!”
Dylan’s face pales as he stutters, “H … he’s after Mom?”
“I don’t know. The delivery person said it was for me. So, he might just be letting me know he’s here. I’m not taking any chances. I’m keeping your mom with me today. I want you to stay here. Don’t go to practice. I’ll have an officer pick you up about thirty minutes early today. He’ll bring you to the station.”
“If I don’t practice today, then I can’t play in the game this weekend,” Dylan panics.
Rethinking, I say, “I’ll just have a uniform here and he’ll bring you to me when you’re finished. Okay?” Dylan nods. “I don’t want you telling this to anyone, and if anyone comes to you with something for me, you run. You understand?”
“Yeah, Dad.”
“I mean it. Don’t try to be a hero. Keep yourself safe. Understand me?” He nods again. I know he might be scared, but I need him to understand how important this is. “The murder the other night, you heard about it?”
“Yeah. Near the hospital,” Dylan responds.
“The girl who was killed looked just like your mom. I’m not trying to scare you, but I want you to know how serious this is. You’re not a little kid anymore. I think you can handle this. I need you to be extra careful. If this guy is after me, then he’ll stop at nothing to get to me. Please, keep yourself safe.”
“I promise.”
The bell rings, covering Dylan’s words, but there’s no question that he understands how serious this is. He stands to leave, hugging his mom tightly, whispering in her ear. He hugs me with more force than I expect, but I return his hug and kiss his forehead.
“I love you, Dylan. I’ll fix this.” He shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything before darting out the door to class. “You okay?” I ask Shayla. She’s been so quiet through all of this.
She takes my hand. “I’ll be okay. Let’s get to the station.”
We’re silent the whole way in. I lead her into my office and shut the door, telling her to sit wherever she’d like. She chooses the black leather sofa. I sit beside her and brush her hair from her face. “Are you all right?”
“Not really, but I will be. Today … was just draining. It’s not over either.”
“Yes, that’s true. I need to call my buddy with the FBI.”
I press a kiss to her lips, then walk over to my desk to find his number. I grab my office phone and dial.
“Marsh,” he answers in a clipped tone.
“It’s Jacobs,” I reply.
He lets out a deep breath. “He’s there, isn’t he?”
I shake my head, growing angry as curses fly from my mouth. “How could this happen, Marsh? Did you guys just open up the door and let him get away?” I snap.
“Honestly, I don’t think anyone here even knows that he’s gone. I had this gut feeling he was going to come for you. Hold on,” he tells me. Then he barks orders at someone about checking on Mathis. “I’ll have confirmation in about thirty. Tell me what’s going on.”
I rub my forehead as I recount the body we found and the fox that was left at Shayla’s office. By the time I’m done, he’s the one cursing and yelling at his assistant to get him on the first plane out. He’s coming here. I knew he would. He’s the most loyal man I know. We’ve had each other’s back since our time in the sandbox. It doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes to confirm that Mathis is gone and that one of Mathis’ men was staying in the house, posing as him. How that slipped by the local guys, I’ll never know. Rookie mistake for sure.
“He’ll be here in the morning,” I tell Shay.
“What will he do?” she asks.
I scrub my face with my hands. My stress level is through the roof. Glancing up, I motion Shay to me. She looks so afraid. I hate that. Especially, since I know I’m the reason for it. It kills me that I’m causing her to hurt again.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as I pull her down on my lap.
Running her fingers through my hair, she says, “Oh, baby. This isn’t your fault. You can’t help what someone else choses to do. We’ve talked about that. Everyone’s choices are their own.”
“No, it’s not my choice, but he wouldn’t be after you if it weren’t for me. He promised he’d come for me and mine. I just didn’t think it was possible with him in jail. I’m a fool.”
“How did he know it was you who betrayed him?” She continues to run her fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp and neck. It feels incredible.
“At first, I was only reporting to my handler, because I was undercover.” I take a quick breath and look up at her. “I was getting antsy though. I wanted out, but what I was getting was really valuable and I was close to taking down the whole family. So, they wanted me to stay undercover for as long as possible.” I chuckle humorlessly at my own stupidity. “I don’t know, I got careless and was discovered. The agenc
y pulled me out as soon as they could, but Mathis still found out I was the traitor in the organization. I ended up testifying in court, which was necessary, but also furthered Mathis’ hate for me. It’s one of the main reasons I moved back here. I needed to get out of the area. And, my God! I just never … imagined he would get released. He was convicted of ten murders and several miscellaneous drug charges.” I breathe out quickly and shake my head. “There’s got to be something going on in the system. Maybe a corrupt judge.”
“Will the FBI open an investigation?” Shayla asks.
“Possibly. I hope they will. Finding a corrupt official is a touchy thing. There are a lot of loopholes we’d have to go through. I mean, they would have go through.”
“You miss it, don’t you?”
I shrug. “Sometimes I do. I miss the excitement and the challenge, but I’d quit all over again to be with you and Dylan. I don’t regret my decision at all.”
“I worry you will.”
“Never. I’ll never regret being able to get you and my son back,” I say, kissing her. I pull back after a few minutes. “I know you’re not going to like this, but I think I want to call in a few favors and have someone guarding you and Dylan.” I brace myself for the worst but she just smiles.
“If you think that’s best.”
“You’re not going to fight me?” I raise my eyebrow in surprise.
She’s always been a pretty passive person, except when it comes to me. She’ll rip me apart in two-seconds flat if she doesn’t like what I have to say.
“No. You’re only doing what you think is best. I don’t like it, but I won’t fight you. I don’t know how that will work at the hospital, but to and from home would probably be enough.”
We sit quietly for a few minutes, both overwhelmed with the situation we find ourselves in. At least I am, and knowing Shay the way I do, I’d say she’s doing the same.
“Ryan, are these the crime photos?” she suddenly asks, sitting forward on my lap.
“Crap. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to see those.”
I move forward to grab the photos, but her hand shoots out to stop me. I look up at her in question, but her eyes are trained on something. She stretches out her arm and plucks one of the photos with the girl’s body and some of the surrounding area.
“Does this look like a fox to you?”
She points to an area by a tree surrounded with dead leaves. I grab my magnifying glass and turn my desk lamp on.
“It’s him,” I say gravely. “I knew it was him. Shayla, this means he’s most definitely after you. You’re exactly his type.”
I stand up and almost dump her on the floor, but she moves quickly enough. I run my hands roughly through my hair. It was one thing to think he might be here and after her, but this … this is confirmation.
“Why would he do that?” she asks.
“Do what?” I stop to turn to her.
She picks up the picture. She has a look that’s a cross between panicked and somewhat curious. “Hide it? I mean, you said it was always his thing. To let everyone know it was him. Why hide it this time?”
She has a point. I consider that for a few moments, then say, “Maybe he wasn’t ready to let me know he was here. Maybe he can’t stop himself from leaving his calling card.”
“That would make sense. It’s probably a compulsion. He can’t function without doing what he feels will finish the job.”
“Exactly! The profiler for the FBI said he was OCD. Do you want to see the photos?” I ask her, pointing to the others on my desk.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
I grab the pictures just as she pulls out a pair of glasses from her purse and puts them on. I freeze as I hold the pictures out to her. She easily just went from being a ten on the hotness scale to a fifteen! This woman leaves me speechless and stupid.
She cocks her head to the side. “What?”
I clear my throat. “Uh, you just look really hot in glasses. I’m having some pretty inappropriate fantasies.”
She laughs loudly. “Oh, Ryan. I see not much has changed since high school, your mind is still in that gutter.” I grin crookedly at her. She’s not wrong.
She takes the photos and sits down at my desk. She then proceeds to study them and I can’t help the pride that swells inside me. She’s always been so astute. I tuck a piece of stray hair behind her ear and kiss her temple.
“I can’t help it. You’re gorgeous. I want you so bad, baby. You just can’t understand.”
She looks up at me over the top of her frames. My head rolls back with a groan. I stumble backwards towards my sofa and dramatically flop down with my hands over my heart. She’s killing me.
“I want you too, Ryan. I’m serious though, it’s not happening in our workplaces or my closet.” She gives me the stern face she gives Dylan, which causes me to laugh and her to giggle. “Shut up, I’m working here.”
I grab my football and lie back on my couch again, tossing it up in the air and catching it as she studies the pictures. I do this often when I’m trying to figure out a plan or solve a case. It keeps me focused and helps me think. I can use all the help I can get with her in those distractingly sexy glasses!
“Ry, what was the cause of death?” Shayla asks. I look over to see her staring at the picture.
“We assumed strangulation because of the marks on her neck. I can pull the autopsy report. It should be back.” I jump up and go to my computer to see if the file is there.
“Is strangulation Mathis’ M.O.?”
I type as I speak. “No, he was pretty direct with a shot to the head, but he would abuse his victim. Never sexually, just… brutally. This girl was beaten badly, the worse I’ve seen from Mathis”
I finally get the report up and show it to her. She purses her lips as she reads over the document. I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of hers. She looks over to me and then to the picture.
“Do you have any of his past case files?”
Curious, I nod before going over to my locked file cabinet. “These are copies. I shouldn’t be showing you this, but we’ll just call you a consultant on this case.”
“Of course,” she says with a smile. “I’ll help with anything I can.”
She studies the files I’ve handed her for a few minutes, then says, “Ry, I’m not saying this new one wasn’t done by him, but there’s so much damage right here,” she points to the back of the skull. “It’s almost too much,” she notices my confused look and shrugs. “You know, like he was trying to hide his M.O. or maybe it’s someone trying to throw you off. Like a copycat.”
“How would someone else know about my cases? They aren’t exactly public knowledge.” It’s not that I totally disagree with her, but the idea seems farfetched. “I don’t know. There are really good hackers out there. It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s a copycat.”
“Do you think I could examine the body? I know the report says blunt force trauma, but they could have missed a bullet with all this damage and rust debris. If we could find a bullet hole, then we’d know it was him. Maybe not one-hundred percent, but we’d have something more to go on.”
I look at her a little shocked. “You’d want to do that? I mean she’s so similar to you.”
She looks at me mournfully. “Baby, she’s not me. Yes, it’s disturbing that she looks similar to me, but I want to find this guy and put this girl’s family at ease, if only a little bit.”
“You’re amazing.” I kiss her.
She chuckles, pushing me away. “Okay, stud. Let’s get going before things go too far.”
It takes us less than ten minutes to get downtown to the city morgue. We have no problems getting back to see the girl. Shayla expertly dons the blue latex gloves. She steps up to the body, reverently pulling back the sheet that covers her. Gone is the silly fun loving girl I love so much, in her place is Dr. Thorn. She’s in her element, talking to the pathologist about the body and the damage sustained. She’s
not at all queasy. I wish I could say the same. I still hold on to the fact that this death is harder for me because she looks so much like Shayla. She examines the face and head. I shudder as I watch. The damage to this girl is sickening. There’s not one area that isn’t destroyed.
“Ryan,” Shayla says as she feels around behind the girl’s neck. I look up and she continues. “There’s a small hole here at the base of the skull. It feels circular. Would you like to feel it?” she asks.
Not really, I think to myself, but I grab the proffered gloves and slip them on my hand. It’s not that I haven’t done something like this before, but well … I’ve said it before, this girl looks too much like Shay. I put my hand where directed and she’s right, it’s circular and my first thought is that it feels like a bullet hole.
“What did the toxicology reports find?” Shayla asks the pathologist, Dr. Mackey. He flips through the file, then looks up to her.
“There was nothing odd about her blood workup. She wasn’t drugged. She was a healthy thirty-year-old woman. The weapon was assumed to be a pipe. The wounds are concave with rust residue. But there was no ballistics run for possible gunshot residue. With all the damage, I didn’t notice the possibility, but she was in the woods approximately 8-10 hours before she was found. It rained during that time, it’s possible a lot of the evidence we could have was washed away,” Mackey states.
“True,” Shayla agrees. “From what I can tell from this wound at the base of her skull, it could be a bullet wound, but without the proper testing there’s no way to confirm that. It’s been so long that any residue is likely to be gone, especially with the rain.” She turns to me. “We can’t prove it’s him, but there’s a definite possibility.”
“Thanks for letting us take up your time, Dr. Mackey.” We shake hands and head out to the car.
“I’m not saying anything bad about the team of people who covered this, but there are some holes in their process. When I did my rotation in pathology, we were taught to leave no stone unturned. In cases where there is an unknown weapon or a lot of damage sustained, you check for everything. Sometimes, I think smaller communities like this one forget that because there’s not a lot of serious crime. It’s sad for the victim and her family.”
Vengeance (Oak Grove Suspense Book 1) Page 12
