by Trisha Wolfe
Her breath whispers past her lips, a soft exhale that draws me in. “I don’t feel so strong.”
My gaze travels over her face, and as she presses nearer, her eyes close. I can feel her breath against my mouth. Taste her, just once… A chorus thrums inside my head. I would covet that taste. I would worship this woman with one kiss and dispel every abhorrent lie festering inside her beautiful head—but it’s wrong.
I pull away just as she tilts her head back. I clear my throat, breaking the connection. Her eyes snap open.
“Sadistic shits like Simon feed off of weakness.” I draw back to look at her. “He couldn’t break you. You’re not broken. You’re here now because of that strength that he couldn’t tear down.”
She blinks. “Simon,” she says slowly, sounding out the word, as if it’s the first time she’s uttered her former lab tech’s name.
My brow furrows. “He wasn’t just a perp, Avery. He was someone you knew. Someone you trusted. It’s understandable that this process is even more difficult because of that fact.”
Releasing a strained breath, she nods. “You’re right. Of course.” She nods again, pushing herself even farther out of my grasp. “You should go. I should get some sleep.”
And suddenly, she’s too far away.
I run my palms over my slacks, then stand. “Right.”
Pieces start connecting, but I’m not sure I want them to. Avery is a colleague. I need to get that through my fucking head. I’m desperate to resurrect that very high wall I always keep in place. “But first. Is it safe?” I say, needing to know this much. “This aphrodisiac. Where are you getting it from?”
“God, Quinn. Yes, it’s safe. I engineered it.” She reaches over and grabs the baggie. “Most of the compounds are organic. It’s simple enough, really. But I did have to…”
I tilt my head. “Have to what?”
Her slim throat bobs on a swallow. “I needed something that I couldn’t get myself. It’s not bad. It’s just blacklisted by the FDA. It’s dumb, really. Damn activists.” She shakes her head.
“What?”
She hesitates, then: “I had to go through the darknet to obtain ambergris, which I in turn extracted and produced ambrein—the main ingredient in my cocktail.”
She might as well be speaking Greek. I know Avery’s smart, capable of more than simply determining cause of death for victims, but this just proves how the department takes her intelligence for granted.
“Sum it up for the old-school detective, Aves. Please.”
“Sperm whale vomit, Quinn.” She raises her eyebrows. “Okay? It sounds horrid, but it’s been used for centuries as incense and in perfumes. And it’s quite coveted now, damn near impossible to get, even though the contact I go through obtains it naturally. Collecting aged ambergris off the shore of Africa rather than extracting it violently. The way barbaric whale hunters do.”
“So you’re digesting whale vomit?” How the hell did we take this turn? “And you’re going through illegal channels to get it. This is dangerous—”
“You’re so…black and white. God, it never used to bother me before. I respect your methods, Quinn. But on this? You couldn’t be more wrong.” She stands then, decidedly ending our conversation.
Before I leave, I have to put away one last thing. “What’s the exchange?”
Her shoulders tense. With her back to me, she says, “Not money. My income doesn’t allow for such extravagance. So I have an arrangement.”
My cop hackles raise. “And the arrangement is…?”
She turns toward me. “I give them a cut of the mix.”
“You’re giving these people a powerful aphrodisiac to dispense at their will without even finding out what they’re doing with it?”
“It’s harmless,” she insists. “They get a less potent cocktail. It’s about as effective as porn. It doesn’t strip anybody of their will, Quinn. God, how could you even assume…after what I’ve been through?”
She takes off toward the kitchen. I’m by her side, grabbing her hand and pulling her to a stop before she’s gone. “I didn’t assume. But it’s my job, Avery.”
Her chest rises and falls with her shaky breaths, her robe coming open up top. I should release her and look away, but she’s just too beautiful. Her skin flushed, her hair falling loose.
As her gaze drops to our linked hands, she runs her thumb over my knuckles, and a spark of memory tears through me. The feel of her soft skin against mine. I want more of it. I want it all.
When her eyes finally meet mine, I glimpse a hint of remembrance there—just a vague flicker that makes me question if she knew I was with her those nights. “I know. Your job,” she says, her tone sullen. “The real reason you’re here tonight.”
The verbal blow knocks me back, and I do let her go. “We used to be on that same page.”
She shrugs. “That was before I started playing for the other team.” At my wary expression, she says, “Team victim.”
Words fail me as she exits the living room. I stare at the floor, hating that I can’t make this better for her—that I can’t fix it. In the hospital, I felt like her hero, but here in the waking world, her nightmares are real and too complicated for simple reassurances.
“That night,” I call out. “I should’ve carried you.”
Within seconds, Avery rounds the corner, her face pinched in question. “What?”
“That night we found you,” I repeat, looking into her eyes. “I should’ve carried you out—”
“Honestly, Quinn, I don’t need a hero,” she cuts in. “I didn’t need one then, and I don’t need one now. What I need is someone who isn’t afraid to touch me in the light of day.”
And hell, there it is. She calls me out. The venom in her words should shut me down, but despite my fear of losing control over this situation, I press against her defenses. “I don’t want to be your fucking hero, Avery. You don’t need saving. But I do regret not being able to protect you—to show you right then in that moment that I’d take on the world to keep you safe.”
For a second, her features soften. Her gaze locks with mine, and I can almost reach her. “And why didn’t you?” she asks, snapping her damn wall back into place. “Why didn’t you swoop in and scoop me into your big detective arms? Because I’m tainted? Because I’m too fragile? Because you’re scared to be so close to the sickness?”
“No…never. Because I was terrified. That if I ever wrapped my arms around you, I would never let you go again.” I invade her personal space, killing the separation she’s put between us. “And that fucking terrified me.”
I watch her swallow, the slender column of her neck so tempting, so delicate. “And now?”
My hands flex at my sides, but I don’t reach out, even though every part of me screams to touch her. “I’m still terrified. But I’m here, aren’t I? I’ll be whatever you need me to be. A friend. A confidant—”
She holds up a hand. Then, touching that hand to the scar along her lip, she shrinks away. “I think what I need is sleep.” She turns her back to me, and this time, I let her leave the room for good.
Allowing Avery to have the last word, I take my leave. I’ve already made a fucking mess of it all, dammit. Before the door closes behind me, she shouts, “What new evidence do you have, Quinn? Remember?”
I stand paused in the doorway. “I need you to determine if the vic was a pro.”
Silence stretches out. The distance building between us lodges an ache beneath my chest. Then she appears in the living room. “It’s possible,” she says. “The vic had a long-term birth control measure in place. And the scarring along her vaginal walls could be due to numerous sexual encounters. Yes. I’d say the possibility is very likely if you have additional evidence to support it.”
I nod slowly. “All right. Thanks.”
“Is that all you wanted?”
Her question grips me like a vise, crushing my lungs. The truthful response doesn’t have a place here, however. I push i
t down deep, giving her a simple, “Yes,” before I shut the door on my way out.
Being in control of my surroundings and myself is what keeps my instincts sharp. I depend on it at all times. But with Avery, I feel that control slipping, weakening more and more every second.
5
Discovery
Avery
When I think of how I got to this place in my life, there’s no one, defining factor. It must be that way for most people when they recount the many decisions that lead them to a particular point in time when they examine the mess their life has become.
A series of decisions were made, each one branching out a new limb, connecting to a different course. I used to see the whole of my life as a labyrinth. A beautiful but neat and concise warren of graceful curves and paths. I was always so purposeful. Every choice made, I made it with absolution.
But in one dark twist, storm clouds covered my masterpiece and thorn vines clawed at the walls until they crumbled. Leaving behind a dilapidated and warped maze. I can now feel myself panting for breath, bare feet slapping the wrecked path, thorns snagging my ankles, as I search for the exit.
There is no way out.
I’ve been plunged into a never-ending rotation. Round and round. A nightmare from which I’ll never awaken.
Survive.
Like I voiced to Quinn last night, I only had to survive Wells. Just until I was safe again. Then I could reclaim my life. I’d find myself once more.
Only it will never be over. And this fight-or-flight panic coursing through my veins will eventually eat me alive.
“Doctor Johnson, I think I need you to look at this.”
Jillian’s voice pulls me out of my morbid thoughts. I shake off my conversation with Quinn, reminding myself that he has the best intentions—especially since he doesn’t know the truth of my abductor—and address my newest intern. “What do you have?”
She squints into the microscope. “I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve ever identified anything like this before. Can you look?”
I pull off my blood-covered gloves and toss them into the waste. Hunching over the eyepiece, I close one eye. And that panic races anew, my heart galloping. I stand straight and turn to face her. “Mark it as unknown for now.”
Her eyebrows draw together, but she nods. “Yes, ma’am. Should I advise Detective Quinn on the discovery?”
My heartbeat pulses in my ears. “No…not yet. Not until we can determine the origin.”
She seems distressed, as it’s protocol to always report any findings—whether we can determine them or not—to the case detectives. As forensic pathologists, that’s the job. That’s the purpose.
“I’ll prepare a sample to send out,” she says, getting right on it.
She’s a good intern. Bright, diligent, ambitious. She won’t let this finding go. It will be a shame if I have to replace her.
“Jillian, place the sample in my locker. I have other trace to send out, as well.” I force a smile. “I’ll take care of it.”
With a bright smile of her own, she flutters off to fulfill her assignment.
Back in my office, I press my hands to the closed door, shutting out the noise of the lab. I need Sadie.
Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I scroll to her contact info and tap the screen. The ring seems to drone on forever as my conscience tightens into a suffocating noose.
“This better be about cocktails,” Sadie answers.
I swallow down the burn coating my throat. “It is.” The very cocktail I developed in my personal lab. At least, a form of it. Someone—a very smart someone—tampered with the structure. But I need time to study the compound to determine how, and to what effect.
“This doesn’t sound like fun cocktails,” Sadie says. “Avery, is everything okay?”
“I can’t talk. I’m at work right now. Can we meet later?”
“Of course. I have the perfect place.”
Once I hang up, the panic subsides, but only just. After last night, how the hell am I going to explain this to Quinn? How am I going to explain when I don’t even understand how my compound showed up as trace in the vic’s system?
I should take this information to Quinn right now. Get it out in the open and let him investigate. Quinn’s good at his job, and if handing over my darknet contacts means he traces them back to the killer…
Oh, God. If I’m implicated in this investigation, that could call into question all the past cases I’ve personally handled. Which in turn will open up a further investigation into my COD reports—like the report on Wells.
That can’t happen. If it were only my career on the line, I wouldn’t hesitate. But Sadie is connected to that course of action. What she did for me… No. I can’t let her reputation be marred, or worse, due to my mistake.
A stupid, stupid mistake.
I snatch my purse off my desk and lock the office door. As I pass Jillian, I give her a quick smile, then snag the tray of samples. “I’ll run these over to forensics on my way out.”
* * *
“I only have till tomorrow until the crime lab figures out these samples never made it to forensics.” I hitch the cooler strap higher on my shoulder, securing their safety on my person.
I follow Sadie’s lead toward a private area of the club. The Lair isn’t my first choice for a confessional, but it’s ironically fitting. When admitting to developing a potent aphrodisiac to help stimulate your own dwindling libido, and in turn having inadvertently supplied that drug to possible criminals…where better to confess your sins than a sex club?
Luckily, as it’s the middle of the day, the club is closed. Far less chance for anyone to spot me here. There’re a couple of people wandering the ground level, unboxing merchandise and setting up displays, but otherwise this is as secluded as it comes. I can’t imagine Quinn suddenly popping up in a place like this.
A stage is set before us, with contraptions I couldn’t name if I tried. The walls are painted black. It’s chilly and quiet and, even though we’re alone, I feel as if I’m standing on a platform, about to bare my soul.
“Colton’s in his office,” she says, pulling out a couple of stools for us around a table. “We’re alone.”
Her confirmation is encouraging. I trust Sadie. If not for her, Price Alexander Wells—the vile monster—might still be out there. Even with all the evidence we had against him, he still might’ve gotten off on a lesser charge. I’ve seen it happen time and time again in the system. Wells was a topnotch lawyer, with other topnotch lawyer and judge contacts. Wells being set free to mutilate, rape, and kill other women wasn’t a chance either of us was willing to take.
“I think I screwed up,” I say, laying it all out there at once. I tell her about the cocktail, about my darknet contacts. About the ambrein compound that carries my signature. Which has just been discovered in my lab and entered into the chain of evidence for our latest vic.
“It’s circumstantial,” Sadie declares, her voice level. Through my whole story, she didn’t crack once. “What you developed isn’t illegal.”
“It’s not approved by the FDA,” I counter.
“Neither are half the cold meds out there, but we consume them just the same.” She offers a slight smile. Her green eyes widen with sincerity as she pushes on. “Quinn’s a good cop.”
I roll my eyes. “Believe me, I know. And damn stubborn when he gets a whiff of something hinky.”
She smirks. “He’ll get to the bottom of it, Avery. He’s like a dog with a bone. You had nothing to do with harming this woman. This is not your fault. And you don’t even know how the ambrein compound was entered into her system, or if it has anything at all to dowith how she died. Let Quinn do his job and find out. I promise you, he won’t let your name be tarnished. Regardless of what you may think, he does want justice, but he wants that justice to come without implicating those he cares for. He will back you up until he finds reason not to…but he will never stop searching for a way to help you. He’s a goo
d cop who still believes in other good cops and good people.”
I inhale a full breath, then free it, releasing some of the anxiety I’ve been carrying since I first recognized the compound. “As his partner, I guess you know better than anyone.” I raise an eyebrow.
For the first time, I see a flicker of doubt cross her pretty face. “Partner might be a stretch these days. I think the serial case has finally gotten to him. Now that he’s had time to process everything.”
“You don’t think—”
“No,” she cuts in. “Even if he did suspect, I’m the one who fabricated the evidence. Not you. It’s all on me, Avery. And when the time comes, I’ll be the one to confront Quinn on it.”
I swallow down my unease. The plan was set. Sadie was to take care of Wells—I didn’t ask questions; she made it clear I wasn’t going to know the details—and I was responsible for planting the shellfish toxin in his gastrointestinal tract. When the moment came, however, with the monster cold and lifeless on my slab…I froze.
Sadie took over to complete the deed where I failed.
“I owe you so much…too much,” I tell her. “Had I just been able to—”
“Some dark things in this world we can’t unsee,” she says, her hand finding mine. “Once it takes root, we only have two choices. Let it consume us, changing us, manipulating us into its likeness, or destroy it.” Her grasp tightens. “I’m glad I was there to take the darkness in your place. That you didn’t have to make that choice.”
I feel the burn of tears behind my eyes, and I hate them. I hate feeling so powerless and weak. “You shouldn’t have had to make that choice, either,” I say. “Because honestly, Sadie, I fear it’s too late. That the things I’ve seen…what I’ve suffered…the darkness has already consumed me.”