by Hanna Noble
Cole searched his memory but couldn’t think of anything.
“I know,” Owen said, snapping his fingers, excited. “Didn’t Naomi say something about an elephant?”
“An elephant with a blue rope.” Cole’s gaze sharpened. “Hang on a second.”
Cole rummaged through the file he’d brought along and pulled out Lily’s missing person report. “Look.”
Lily was wearing a necklace in the photo attached to her report. “It’s an elephant charm on chain.” he said, once again unnerved by Naomi’s abilities. “No blue rope though. What does this mean?”
“I don’t know.” Owen shrugged. “David said that she had misplaced it, but we should call and ask her mother if she’d found it since. I don’t think he did it,” Owen glanced over at him. “What would his motive be?”
Cole had wondered the same thing. “It could have been an accident or something,” he said, though he didn’t believe it. “We’ll keep looking into him. Naomi said he didn’t do it, so I’m sure we’ll find the evidence to clear him.” They pulled into the gas station. “Having access to our very own psychic hotline is pretty handy.”
“My, haven’t we jumped in headfirst into the world of the paranormal,” Owen raised an eyebrow. “You certainly seem to have changed your tune.”
Cole felt his face heat up and turned to look out the window so Owen wouldn’t taunt him about it. He tried for a nonchalant raise of his shoulder. “We’re investigating him anyway, so believing in Naomi’s vision is a low risk.”
Owen snorted. “Yeah, this whole bizarre investigation, which by the way hinges on Naomi’s vision, is totally low risk.” He nudged Cole with his elbow. “Admit it, you’re a convert.”
He couldn’t deny it. “Ok,” he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “This time around I can admit that I’m more open to the things Naomi can do.” He risked a glance at Owen, who was still wearing a smug smile. “Fine, you grinning chimp. It’s convincing. She’s convincing.”
He believed her, Cole realized with a start. Somewhere along the line, in the past few days he’d crossed over from skeptical yet open-minded and landed firmly in the land of believers.
“Naomi,” he clarified, though more for himself than for Owen. “I guess I believe Naomi, not the practice of mind reading in general.”
“It’s a start,” Owen said. “We’ll have you examining tea leaves and tarot cards in no time.”
“I didn’t see you signing up to have your fortune told the last time around,” Cole groused.
“I’m more of a scrying and amulet kind of guy.”
“Shut up, Owen.”
Chapter Eighteen
A few days later, Naomi walked toward her former apartment in the heart of Jamaica Plain. It was a multicultural neighborhood in the southwest part of Boston, filled with young families and working professionals. Local restaurants, boutiques, and shops lined Centre Street, the main thoroughfare, and she’d loved living near Jamaica Pond, one of her favorite running routes.
Now, retracing her steps over the path she’d walked hundreds of times before, she felt out of place. How many times had she taken all these small details for granted, occupied with the day ahead, work deadlines, and weekend plans? This time she was aware of every snow-laden branch, each storefront, and how close she was getting to the place she’d once called home.
“I don’t think anyone is going to recognize you,” Gabi’s amused voice came through Naomi’s headphones. “I think the scarf is overkill by the way.”
“I’m being careful,” Naomi replied, her voice muffled from behind said scarf, which she’d wrapped around her head. To complete the look, she’d put on a pair of big sunglasses. “Weren’t you the one who suggested I leave the house?”
“I didn’t think you’d do it in such a dramatic style. Why not get one of those glasses and mustache disguises, really complete the look?”
“Ha ha,” Naomi said. “Why are you in communications when you missed your calling as a stand-up comic?”
“Comedy clubs have terrible lighting,” Gabi replied. “I’m proud of you for doing this, Nay,” her voice softened. “I know it’s scary. It’s normal to feel jittery, but this is good, this is you taking a big step in reclaiming your life.”
She’d awoken feeling melancholy, anxious about their lack of progress and unable to ignore the deep pang of longing to visit the parts of Boston she’d once claimed as her own. Gabi had convinced her to leave the house, to go out in the city. To face some of her fears head on. So far there had been no screaming mobs with pitchforks, no news trucks thrusting mics in her face.
It was quiet, and it was just her, back in her old stomping grounds, wincing at the dull ache in her heart. It was harder than she’d expected to be so close to the remnants of her former life.
Thankfully, the frigid Boston weather was the perfect cover for her disguise, the low temperatures allowing her to blend in, fully covered and unnoticed. The sky was clear, a glorious blazing blue that was sharpened by the bite of the chill in the air.
As she approached her destination, she said, “I’ll call you back after,” she said. “I need to do this part on my own.”
“Ok, I’m here in you need me.”
Hanging up, Naomi stood on the opposite side of the street and pretended to look at her phone. Her eyes, disguised by the dark frames on her face, were trained on one apartment in particular, a corner unit on the fifth floor of a cheerful low-rise building that used to be her home.
The new tenants had changed the bright yellow curtains in her kitchen to utilitarian blinds. She squinted, but couldn’t see much else. She should have come at night; maybe she would have gotten a peek at the strangers who now lived in her apartment.
She shook her head at her own thoughts. Weird much, Naomi? Shoving her phone in her pocket she turned and walked back toward the train, frustrated. She felt unsettled. The feelings she had thought would dissipate after seeing the apartment had amplified.
Naomi wandered past the little shops and cafes, still feeling the echoes of pain she’d experienced when she’d left the city.
She sighed as she looked up at the sky. She hadn’t heard so much as a peep from many of her former colleagues. A few had reached out, but the interactions were awkward and strained, and many of those contacts had faded away, lost in a sea of unreturned e-mails and phone calls.
Her cellphone buzzed, jolting her out of the memories of shame and disbelief that had shaken her for months after she’d fled the city.
Get over it, she said to herself. The past was the past, and she had a job to do. She wasn’t going to let her future be defined by this one event. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, seeing a text message from Cole.
Where are you?
Out for some fresh air. What’s up?
Just checking in. Want me to pick you up from somewhere after shift?
I’ll take the T, thanks.
I’ll call you when I’m done to make sure. Stay safe.
Once again, her stomach was in knots, but this time for a very different reason. Ever since their near-kiss a few days, they’d barely had a moment alone. Michelle had become an unofficial member of their investigative team, and Owen had been crashing on Cole’s couch, something to do with the plumbing in the kitchen and a miscalculation resulting in a lack of hot water.
But the promise of what could have been, hung over their every interaction, making Naomi hyper-aware of Cole’s presence. He’d started touching her more frequently. A caress on her arm, a squeeze of her shoulder, a playful tug of her hair. He was giving her time to get used to him on this new personal level, and she didn’t quite know what to make of it. Except that she liked his touch. A lot.
Despite how conflicted she felt about the situation between them, she couldn’t deny that she had willingly made the choice to come back, to stay with Cole and to use her abilities in this way. She would have to deal with the consequences.
Spotting the entrance to the T, she decided to head back to Cole’s house, review the statements again. She never knew what would trigger her Knowing, and with her self-imposed thirty-day deadline looming, she felt anxious at their lack of real progress. Could she go to San Diego, knowing the Phantom could still be out there?
Getting on the train, she found an empty seat and let the rocking motion soothe her. She had unfinished business here, had been given a second chance to prove to herself that her abilities could be used for good. Maybe some part of her had always known that she would have to come back and finish this case. To face Cole.
Being with him over the past few weeks had been easier than she’d anticipated. He was good company, and not bad to look at. She liked the way he puttered around the kitchen to decompress, the sexy timbre of his voice, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes when he smiled.
It was even hard to resist his stark determination to make the city of Boston safer, to protect those he considered his. That protection now extended to her, and she relished the feeling of being safe, of being cared for.
She was so lost in thought that it took her a few minutes to realize she had gotten off the train. Blinking, she looked around her, startled. Where was she? Downtown Crossing.
She had gotten off at the wrong stop.
A shiver of unease skittered up her spine. She couldn’t remember standing, couldn’t recall walking off the train at all. She glanced up at the monitor above her head, indicating another Orange Line train would be approaching in a few minutes. As she waited, she felt the Knowing stir, still fuzzy but pulling her away from the platform and toward a set of stairs that would take her to the Red Line.
She followed her instincts and walked to the other platform, boarding the Red Line train when it arrived, unsure of what was happening. Her abilities were trying to tell her something. The medication she had taken this morning had dulled the effects again, but whatever was going on was persistent enough to get through her medically induced barrier.
All thoughts of Cole were forgotten as she watched the stops go by, waiting for some sign of her final destination. Her hands were clammy, and her mouth felt dry. She could feel her heart pounding as the Knowing flowed through her again, and she got off at the next stop, Fields Corner. Exiting back out into the cold, she looked around and recognized where she was — a few blocks from Lily’s apartment.
She walked the short distance, staring up at the low-rise building that had once housed a pretty young woman but now contained the clues to her death. Why did Naomi come back here? She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. A sense of dread oozed through her, making her stomach turn and her heart pound.
Glee. He was so excited to be standing here again. This place, full of good memories, the jewel of his secret treasures. Lying low had been such a pain, but his caution had paid off. No one had found him. He was amused. Clearly, he’d overestimated the Boston Police. He was ready to start looking again. This time, he wouldn’t be satisfied with hurting them; no, he had much bigger plans in mind.
The anticipation and excitement threaded with her own emotions, making her shiver despite the layers she was wearing. She knew this energy. The malevolent touch broadcast to her senses was familiar. She’d sensed this presence before.
She had a sudden flash of the apartment building she was standing in front of, but the view was from a different vantage point. It was a split-second image, gone in a heartbeat, but Naomi realized with a start that this was no leftover vision, but something she was picking up in real time.
He was here. The killer. The man who had murdered Lily was somewhere close, looking up at this structure with a twisted sense of pride and a frightening excitement that made her shudder. She whirled around, her eyes scanning, trying to find the same view point, to see who was around, but it was no use. There were too many people milling about; it was impossible to track the source of the thought, to pinpoint it to an individual. Fear was an icy grip on her heart, and she clenched her fists to her side, unable to control their trembling.
She waited, straining to sense anything else, but he was gone. One thing was clear, he was alive and well. Whatever had driven him to commit those dark acts had reawakened, the hunger pulsing inside him was waiting to be satiated once again.
She leaned against a lamppost for support. This was far from over. He was no longer content with rape; he’d had a taste of something far more seductive now. He’d taken a life and wanted more of that thrill, more of that addictive power.
The Phantom was back, and he was on the hunt once again.
Chapter Nineteen
Cole and Owen walked into Napolitano’s and spotted Leah in their usual booth near the back. In her navy suit, her blond hair tied back in a sleek twist, she looked more like a high-powered CEO than a detective, a fact that never failed to amuse Cole.
They’d been meeting at Napolitano’s for years. It was an unpretentious, family-run Italian restaurant that specialized in mouthwatering pastas, grilled paninis, and Cole’s secret weakness, homemade tiramisu. Despite how often he’d begged the owners, Rosa and Franco had yet to share their recipe with him. Cole was determined he’d get it one day. He gave a wave to Anna, the regular waitress, who winked and pointed at the dessert in question. He shook his head, feigning a heartbroken expression, and was rewarded by her laugh.
Owen slid into the booth beside Leah, while Cole opted to face her across the table.
“Still no recipe?” Leah asked as they sat down.
Cole shook his head. “Not yet. But soon.”
“You’ve been saying that for the last two years.” She glanced at her watch. “I only have time for a quick coffee.” She waved Anna over, and they soon had three cups of coffee in front of them.
“So?” Owen looked over at Leah. “What did you find out? Have you solved the case already? Can we all take the afternoon off?”
She huffed out a laugh. “If only it was that easy.” She looked at Cole. “It took a while, there was so much to look through. There’s definitely something off about this case. It doesn’t add up. I don’t like it.” She removed several sheets of paper from the folder on the table, and Cole recognized them as witness statements given to the police.
“Start at the beginning.” He leaned in, placing his forearms on the table for a better view. “Take us through your thinking.”
Leah nodded. “I looked over the basic facts and followed the steps I would have taken if I was the lead investigator. I wanted to get a sense of Risso’s logic.”
“Makes sense.” It was the same thing he would have done.
“Megan’s body was discovered by her housekeeper, who called 911. They canvassed the neighbors and one of them gave a description of a suspicious vehicle that had been parked on the street. The car belonged to Randall, who was brought in for questioning. They found plastic ties in his glove compartment that matched the ones used on Megan, and the other rape victims. They also found some of Megan’s belongings and two pairs of underwear belonging to Rachel Li, another victim. CSI report came back with DNA from the scene that matched Randall’s. They confronted him with this evidence, and he asked for his lawyers and confessed.”
“And Risso basked in the credit.” Owen shook his head. “Not to mention the commendations.”
Cole understood his partner’s frustration. It grated, even after all this time. They had pursued every possible lead, spent hours on interviews and legwork, yet Risso had been the one to catch the big break. Cole didn’t mean to be so petty—he had been glad a monster was off the streets. At the time, dealing with Shauna’s death and watching Owen’s painful recovery had seemed like too high a price with nothing to show for it. And that was before he knew the truth about Naomi.
“The confession was compelling,” Leah said, bringing his attention back to her. “Randall had information that only the killer would know, like details of the women’s apartments and so on. He claimed he had panicked and killed her by accident. It was e
nough to convince Risso, the District Attorney, and the Chief that they had apprehended the Phantom.”
Owen scowled, rubbing at his shoulder. “Everything was neatly tied up.”
“A little too neatly,” Leah said, watching his movements with a sad look in her eyes. Cole knew she was thinking of the wounds they had all suffered that day. “There are a few details that are bothering me. Why would he confess?”
Cole was puzzled. “What do you mean? Didn’t you say they confronted him with a bunch of evidence?”
“The only thing they could link him to forensically was Megan’s death and Rachel Li’s rape. He confessed to all the other rapes, which only helped to provide aggravating factors resulting in a harsher sentence.” Leah pushed a stapled document toward Owen. “Take a look at this profile prepared by the Harvard Medical School head of Psychiatry. Do you remember how they described the perp?”
“Extremely intelligent, cunning, manipulative. Suffering from some type of personality disorder that prevents him from feeling any remorse for his actions,” Cole recalled.
“We’re talking about a man who was capable of stalking and sexually assaulting six women without ever leaving a trace of DNA. Hell, even the victims themselves couldn’t give us anything concrete about him. So, he bungles one attack and panics?” Leah shook her head. “This guy doesn’t strike me as the sort of guy who would freak out, and then blab about his misdeeds to the police at the first opportunity.”
No, thought Cole. They were after a predator who would stuff the body of a woman into a suitcase to be tossed in the river, covering up his tracks and cleaning up the mess with frightening precision.
He glanced at Owen and knew his partner was thinking the same thing. Leah was right; it didn’t fit. Of course, they knew that already, but getting the physical evidence in place was going to be critical to their success.
“There’s more.”