by Jen Talty
“Seattle has too many ghosts for both of us. It’s making me crazy too, and I ended up fighting with Ivy last night.”
“Over what?” Callie asked. Kara had been just as obsessed with the Trinket Killer as Callie, but in a different way. Kara’s wife had been the first known victim, and when Callie had first met Kara, it seemed all Kara wanted was knowledge and to help in some small way.
That’s how she ended up being her research assistant, and she’d been a damn good one for the most part. She’d never been trained in the field, so there were some skills she lacked, but she was a fast learner, and Callie trusted her, which was huge because she didn’t trust too many people.
“Being back here brings up a lot of memories and feelings over Renee, and while Ivy isn’t jealous of my late wife, she does get upset over the obsession that begins when we walk into this city.”
“She used the word we?”
Kara nodded.
“I’m sorry.” The last thing Callie wanted to do was ruin anyone’s relationship. Kara and Ivy had only been together for about five months, but Callie had seen a huge change in Kara’s well-being since she’d fallen in love. It was good for Kara after all these years to move on.
“It’s not your fault.” Kara reached out and took Callie’s hand. “It’s mine, but knowing that killer is out there, lurking in the streets of Seattle, makes me want to run.”
Callie nodded. Before her sister died, it had just been another story. Another notch on her career belt. She was hungry to make a name for herself.
Now it was all about making sure her sister didn’t die in vain.
“Besides, that note sounded more like a threat,” Kara said. “Why didn’t you tell me you were staying out here?”
“I didn’t want a lecture about Jag.”
Kara laughed. “Other than Jag being an arrogant asshole, I think he’s a good guy. But he did fuck up the case, and seriously, we both know they caught the wrong guy, but he just wouldn’t listen. He’s a stubborn mule, and to be honest, I wish anyone but him was handling this now.”
“You don’t like him because he accused you of killing your wife, but statistically—”
“Hey, he was the first one to apologize when I was cleared, so he gets points for that. I just wish you weren’t still so hung up on him. He’s not worth it.”
Callie wished the same thing. Falling in love with Jag had been the most unexpected thing that had ever happened. Of all the men she’d met, Jag wasn’t even on her radar. Sure, she’d found him sexy when they had crossed paths, but they butted heads in ways that wasn’t conducive to even having a conversation.
Until that night at the bar.
A heated discussion turned into a night of passion that didn’t end until the Trinket Killer murdered their love for one another.
“I’m over him, but he’s a damn good cop. Everyone makes mistakes, and sadly, I’m as much to blame for that botched investigation as he was, and my sister is dead because of it.”
“Oh, stop that right now,” Kara said. “There is only one person responsible for Stephanie’s murder, and that’s the Trinket Killer. So stop that self-destructive thinking. I’m really tired of it.”
Callie patted Kara’s thigh. She’d been her rock for the last year. Kara had stuck by Callie’s side during her darkest moments. Her friendship meant everything. However, it was time for Kara to take the next step. “I think you and Ivy should leave now. I appreciate both of you coming back here, but I don’t want this to be the cause of problems between you two.”
“I’m glad you feel that way because I told Ivy this morning that we can go back to San Francisco. We were going to leave today, but we can wait until—”
“No. Go now. Get on the next ferry and get the hell out of this godforsaken place. Whatever work we need to finish for the book, you can do from your place in San Fran.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t go, but I want to make this work with Ivy.”
Callie smiled. “Ivy’s amazing. You should go.”
“Thank you.” Kara leaned in and hugged Callie. She held Kara for a long moment, resting her head on her shoulder.
The sound of someone clearing his throat startled her.
“Oh, hey there, Jag,” Kara said as she stood, stretching out her hand. “You look like hell as usual.”
“And you’re still the prettiest woman in any room.” He took her hand and pulled her in for a brief hug, giving her a little peck on the cheek.
“Even if I was interested in men, which I’m not, I’d be way out of your league.”
“Most women are,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Kara said as she headed for the front door.
“Text me when you get to San Fran.” Callie didn’t bother to stand up. It wasn’t even noon, and she felt like she’d put in a full day already.
“Why is she going there?” Jag asked.
“It’s where she and her girlfriend live and honestly, too many ghosts for her in this city.”
“Understandable.” He pointed to her bag. “Let’s go get something to eat, and then you can come back here and pack up your stuff.”
“Why would I pack up my stuff? I have this place booked for a month. The publisher wants extra chapters and a few other things that need to be tweaked.”
“I’ve got a better view at my place, and I work twelve-hour days. You’ll have all the peace and quiet you’ll need.”
“I’m not staying with you.” She stood and tossed her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll move into the motel down the street.”
“Like hell. That would be even less secure.”
She followed him down the steps of the Saratoga Inn and around the corner into town and Michaels, a quaint little seaside diner that made the best crab cake sandwich she’d ever had. “Slow down and stop being such a Neanderthal.”
He glanced over his shoulder, pointing an angry finger at the inn. “You’re not staying there. Or anywhere else for that matter, alone. I have a spare bedroom. So, until I catch that fucking bastard once and for all, you’re staying with me, and that’s the end of it.”
God, she hated it when he went all alpha male macho sexist pig on her. It wasn’t sweet or endearing, and even though she knew his heart was in the right place, because deep down, he was a good man and at one time, he cared for her deeply, it still annoyed the fuck out of her. “You’re not my daddy, so you can’t make me.”
“Watch me.” He opened the door to the diner and gave her a little shove.
Of course the place was packed. The hostess raced over with a big smile. “Hi, Jag. There is a table out front if you don’t mind sitting outside. The sun is trying to peek out, and it’s not drizzling at all anymore.”
“Does that work for you?” He turned his head and glared at Callie.
She touched the center of her chest. “Oh, this I get an opinion about?”
“Not really. We’ll take the table,” he said and taking her hand, he led her through the restaurant to the outside patio.
Seagulls soared overhead, looking for easy food. A few boats filled the sound as the sun tried to create the warmth of spring. She zipped up her fleece. It wasn’t quite there yet, so she was grateful there was no breeze coming off the sound.
She took the seat with her back to the diner so she could look out over the water and enjoy the view. She and Jag had spent many lazy afternoons at this place when they’d managed a day off at the same time. They’d come out here to be away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
They also wanted to keep their relationship to themselves. At first, it had been because it was just sex.
But then it was because they were both utterly terrified of what was happening.
However, about three months before they got engaged, it became a game of how to tell people. They told Stephanie first. The look of shock and horror had been classic, and it had Jag rolling on the floor laughing. But once Stephanie spent time with the two of the
m, she could see the love they had for one another.
Jag waved his hand in front of Callie’s face. “Where’d you go?”
“Sorry, I was thinking about Stephanie.” No point in lying.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “But we need to discuss that note.”
The waitress stepped in front of the table, thankfully taking their order and giving her a few more minutes to collect her thoughts.
“Why didn’t you call me the second you saw that note? Instead, you compromised evidence. That makes my job harder, and you of all people know that.”
“I told you before that it was on my continental breakfast tray, tucked under a plate. I didn’t see it right away. I actually didn’t open the envelope until I was halfway out the door to see you.”
“That doesn’t answer the question why you didn’t tell me about it the second you saw me. Or better yet, tell my secretary so she could have called one of my officers on duty.”
She tossed her hands wide. “I don’t know. Call me Nancy Drew.”
“Okay, Nancy Drew.”
“You’ve always loved to mock me. Anyway, old habits die hard. And honestly, don’t you think it’s a little strange that I’m not even in town for more than a couple of days and all of a sudden the Trinket Killer decides to say hello?”
“Actually, I do think that’s odd, considering we haven’t heard from him in a year.”
“It might not be him.”
“Might not be, but someone slipped into the Saratoga Inn, wiped the security footage, and left a threatening note that basically said he was going to start killing again. Now maybe it’s a copycat. Maybe it’s someone who wants to fuck with you. Or me. Or both of us. But you look an awful lot like every single girl that was murdered, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you on my watch.”
“What about every other long-haired blond who—”
“Don’t be like that,” he said with a harsh tone. “I’m doing what I can. You saw the CSI team, and they are dusting for prints and going through that room with a fine-tooth comb.”
“Why aren’t you there controlling their every move?”
“My officer Jenna graduated top of her class. If her husband wasn’t deployed half the year and she didn’t have two little kids, she’d be living in Seattle working Vice or Homicide. She’s going to head up your case.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re pawning something on someone else?”
He tapped the badge that hung on his shirt. “I’m the chief. It’s my job to play more of a supervisory role. Besides, I’m not the arrogant dickhead I used to be. I know when I’m too close and need to back off.” He opened his napkin and spread it out across his lap. “You, on the other hand, can’t get out of your own way. Your book proves it.”
She leaned back and smiled. “So, you did read it.”
“I plead the fifth.”
Jag took his cell and his beer and headed to the front porch. He glanced over his shoulder at Callie, who had her headphones on and her face only a few inches from her laptop screen.
“Hey, sis.” He sat in his favorite chair, resting his legs on the coffee table as he watched the sky grow dark.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Ziggy’s voice screeched in his ear.
He adjusted the volume on his AirPods. “You don’t have to yell.”
“Oh, someone does. I can’t believe you are having her move in with you, and you didn’t even have the decency to call me to tell me she was back.”
“She’s not living with me. I’m letting her stay in my guest room for a bit.” He chuckled. Ziggy had a flare for the dramatic and tended to overreact.
Hell, that had been a problem for most of his family, including him, though he always told himself he acted and never reacted, but as he approached his mid-thirties, he could see the error of his ways. What he thought was taking action often never gave his mind a chance to process important information that would later come back and bite him in the ass.
Like waiting until he got the phone call from Levi that the judge signed off on all arrest and search warrants before executing them, and he only needed that because they didn’t have probable cause. He had no reason to pick Adam up. Everything had been on a hunch until the DNA came back.
He blinked, pushing all those thoughts from his brain.
“Why is she back anyway?” Ziggy asked.
“To finish her book.”
“I can’t believe she’s using that title. It makes you look bad,” Ziggy said with a huff.
Of everyone in his family, Ziggy had taken the news of his relationship with Callie better than most. Ziggy worked for the same station as a producer. They butted heads a lot, but mostly because they had similar personalities, yet they were also friends.
However, they both had one fatal flaw. Neither one of them knew how to let things go.
“The book isn’t as bad as I thought, as long as she can get the publisher to change the title. It appears that’s more of a marketing ploy than anything else.”
“Are you saying she no longer blames you? Because I know deep down she never meant those things she said. She couldn’t have. She loves you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to believe that Callie didn’t blame him for Stephanie’s death, but she did hold him responsible for mistakes.
And for not listening to her.
And she wouldn’t be wrong for doing so. “If she loved me, she wouldn’t have tossed my engagement ring at my head on live television and all but call me a murderer.”
“She was grieving.”
This argument was getting old, and he needed to stop entertaining the dialogue. “You didn’t call me to discuss my living arrangement with Callie.”
“That was part of it. How is she?”
That caught a hardy laugh. “Seriously? You can’t burn that candle at both ends. When she left, you told me your friendship was over.”
“I was mad and hurt. I’m over it,” Ziggy said. “Is she still totally obsessed?”
“Pretty much,” he admitted. “But in a different way. Once Stephanie was murdered, this became personal. There is a sadness about her that wasn’t there before.”
“It’s only been a year. Grief is a tricky thing,” Ziggy said. “And now on to the other reason I called. I wanted to warn you that our newest greedy little up-and-coming reporter is going to be coming out there tomorrow morning to get an interview from you and Callie.”
Why was he surprised. He took a double swig of his beer. The bubbles tickled his nose. “I thought Callie was bad, but Bailey would toss her mother under the bus for a story.”
“Thank God I’m not her producer,” Ziggy said. “Now do me a favor and don’t let anything happen to Callie.”
His boots hit the wood floor. “Why did you just say that?” There had been no news crew. No reporters. No one knew he’d called CSI. Hell, the few things that happened out on Whidbey were never worth the evening news. But anytime his sister got cryptic, it usually meant there was buzz around her work water cooler.
And that was never good for him.
“Bailey got a tip that Callie is staying at the Saratoga Inn and that her room was broken into and that you called for extra help from the mainland.”
Well, that wasn’t what happened. He began making a mental note of everyone he’d seen at the inn. He’d need to get a guest list, and he’d need to make sure that Ronnie, the owner, didn’t say anything to the press. “I can’t comment.”
“I don’t expect you to,” Ziggy said. “I do know that Bailey plans on starting with Callie.”
“How does she expect to find her since she’s no longer at the inn?”
“Funny you should ask,” Ziggy said. “Her anonymous source said to try your place.”
“Fucking wonderful,” he mumbled. “Thanks for the warning.”
“You’re welcome. Watch your back.”
“Love you, Ziggy.”
“Love you, too brother.”
He tapped his AirPods and pulled them from his ears.
“Want another beer?” Callie eased into the chair next to him, handing him a longneck.
“Fuck, you scared me,” he said, taking the cold beverage. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know that Ziggy is still the best, and Bailey is still a little bitch who got her wish since she’s now in my job.”
He raised his beer and clanked it against the one in Callie’s hand. “She’s not half as good as you were.”
She chuckled. “Since when do you toss around compliments like they are candy.”
He shrugged.
“Any news from the lab?” she asked.
“Too many prints so it’s all compromised. And the note is clean, except your prints.”
“I can’t believe no one saw anything,” she said.
“Well, the good news is that the art gallery right behind the inn has a security camera that faces the back of the inn. There is a shadow of a person running out the back at around five in the morning.”
“So, whoever it was had to have taken a ferry over yesterday.”
“No. They could have driven over deception pass bridge. Or they could have already been here.” He rested his head against the cushion and stared at the sky. He found a couple of stars, and the white moon glowed through a thin layer of gray clouds. “I’m taking this threat seriously, which is why I am being a bit of a dick by having you stay here, but I don’t think it’s the Trinket Killer.”
“I have to agree. You are being a dick.”
He chuckled. “But you’re staying.”
“Just for a couple of nights. Because it’s so pretty here and the motel down the street doesn’t have anything until Monday.”
“I can’t force you to stay here, but someone wants us to think the Trinket Killer is watching us and ready to strike again.”
“What if he is? What if me being back in Seattle is some kind of trigger? What if I just set in motion another killing spree?”
