by S. T. Abby
“Bad enough to leave scars on her soul, but not to the extent it could have been. If you know what I mean, Agent.”
He hasn’t raped her. She’s too young. But he’s forced her to do other things, and that’s bad enough.
Lindy speaks like a victim herself, as though she understand the trauma on a different level. The unsub knew this, because that couldn’t be a coincidence.
She knows him. And she’s apparently for whatever crusade he’s on. I won’t get an ounce of information out of her that tells me who he is. Whatever happened affected more than just the unsub.
But why not tell me what happened?
What the fucking hell is going on in Delaney Grove?
“Ms. May, I know this is difficult, but can you at least tell me what led to you leaving Delaney Grove? Maybe something that affected more than just you?”
Her eyes shift, and a calmness comes over her.
“I left to start anew, Agent. If you want to know about Delaney Grove, maybe you should visit it.”
So he asked her not to tell. She spoke with him. There’s no doubt about that.
He saved the child. The child feels safe because he’s the dark knight that slayed the monster who has haunted her for months, ever since her disappearance. Our unsub handed her over to this woman, who he swore would keep her safe. She trusted him. She was cared for by Lindy, and the bond formed instantly.
That much makes sense.
They both owe him their silence for a reason. They’ll never talk. And I’m not in the business of bullying victims who’ve suffered enough. I’ll find out another way.
Donny walks back in, and I look over at him as he nods.
“Laurel is yours,” I say to Lindy.
“Paperwork. I want it in writing.”
He coached her on this. Told her to make sure she got custody by leveraging information.
Unreal.
We had him all wrong.
There won’t be animal cruelty in his past. He’ll have been someone gentle, possibly naïve and trusting—too trusting. Trusting enough to have been someone’s victim.
Instead of it shattering him; he came back for cold vengeance. But why target so many? What did they fucking do?
Donny walks out again, going to get something in writing. Duke taps his pen impatiently, his knee bouncing under the table. Across from him, Laurel whispers something into Lindy’s ear. Lindy presses a kiss to the child’s forehead.
I watch, fascinated by the fact Laurel doesn’t seem appalled by the affection. An instant maternal bond has been brought forth by two victims bonding with a killer. A killer they feel slays the monsters of their nightmares.
A killer who won’t stop.
They don’t realize how dangerous this guy will become. Revenge killers have no limitations on who dies. The smallest of infractions is a death sentence. They take justice into their hands, become judge, jury, and executioner, becoming too immortal in their own minds.
Donny returns, a paper in his hand. He hands it to Lindy, and she reads it carefully, searching for any sort of a trick.
I take the paper and sign it. “This is me calling this the truth,” I explain, watching her gauge me.
She must trust whatever she sees in my eyes, because she pulls a piece of paper from her purse and hands it to me. Duke stands and comes to read it over my shoulder.
It’s a map to the burial ground, written in blood with a calligraphy penmanship, with most likely a calligraphy pen to disguise the unsub’s handwriting. He knows calligraphy?
So organized it’s eerie.
How long has he been preparing for every possible outcome?
Signed in blood is one name—Kenneth Ferguson. Only it’s not in calligraphy. It’s still signed in blood, written with most likely his finger. The strokes are shaky, as though he was trembling when the unsub made him sign this with his own blood.
That’s a level of cold that had us profiling him as a sadist.
There’s an x marking so many graves, the names of each child written in calligraphy. The only structure on the map appears to be a shed of some sort. The graves are all around it. The map goes from his home, the road names marking each turn to take. He went and visited them. The sick fuck knew exactly where he’d buried each and every child.
Sixty-nine photos. Seventy nails.
Those words come back to me, reminding me they were spoken.
I dart out of the room, leaving Duke behind to deal with the murders that have him sagging to a chair in disbelief.
I grab the page Duke left in the office, one listing all the children’s names. Our people must have run facial recognition against all the kids in the system. After being runaways, their names and photos are reported.
There’s a list of names for each photo. Sixty-nine names.
The same names and ages are written on the photos themselves.
Only one is not listed.
Hadley’s.
He spared her the indignity of our team seeing her photos next to these. He sent Lindy here instead of to the police. He knew we’d take it more personally, knew there was a stronger chance of Lindy getting custody of Laurel.
He definitely feels a kinship with Hadley, and could possibly want to see her reaction. Hadley doesn’t answer, so I tell all that to her voicemail, hoping she hears it soon.
Then I head into the breakroom where Lana is drinking a coke, kicked back with her feet crossed at the ankles as she stares at the TV. I lean against the doorjamb, studying her easy grin.
She has no idea at how sick the world is. I hate that I can’t take her home right now. Hate that this got more complicated and now I need to stay. She’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.
So much for spending some time in bed apologizing even more.
Chapter 13
Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes.
—Confucius
LANA
Logan is gone for a little while when I suddenly see Lindy walk in front of the breakroom with Laurel. I guess she was watching the news closely, ready to follow through with what I told her to do.
Lindy’s eyes widen in shock when she sees me, and I wink, holding my finger over my lips as the universal shhhh sign, while using my other hand to gesture to my visitor’s badge.
She masks her surprise immediately, and Laurel grins at me, giving me a small wave. I get a little worried when I see Hadley suddenly approach them, looking in at me.
Laurel diverts her attention to Hadley, as Hadley narrows her eyes at me. “Can I help you?” she asks.
A guy walks up, and he gestures to Laurel and Lindy. “They have information on the Ferguson case. I escorted them up, but I can’t find SSA Bennett.”
My stomach flips just hearing his name. I hope he doesn’t let me down. My instructions were for Lindy to seek out his team, but not by name. He’ll get her custody of Laurel if he’s the man I think he is, without treating her like a criminal for being linked to me—the monster I hide from him.
“I’ll take them to conference three,” Hadley tells him, eyeing me suspiciously again. Laurel glances at me one last time, but Lindy remains a face of stone, carrying out her part perfectly.
Laurel thinks I’m an angel. She probably thinks no one else can see me. In her eyes, I’m keeping a close watch on her, making sure she stays safe, just as I promised.
She’s clean now. She’s also wearing new clothes that Lindy must have picked up for her on the way here.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I hear a familiar voice ask. Craig? Is his name Craig?
I think so.
I don’t hear anything after that, because they get too far away. Instead, I feign interest in the TV, drinking the soda I bought from the vending machine in here.
Lindy probably thinks I’m ballsy as fuck for being here right now. She has no clue how tangled up I’ve gotten myself.
But they’re looking for a monster.
Not a girl who loves red.
&
nbsp; Not a girl who is falling in love.
Not a girl who died ten years ago.
More time passes before I feel eyes on me, and I dart a glance to the doorway to see Hadley just staring at me. Her eyes are definitely suspicious as she appraises me without any discretion.
Surely Laurel didn’t tell her. And certainly not Lindy.
Then again, I’d be in an interrogation room if they had. She’s been suspicious of me from the start, so she’s obviously still beating that dead horse.
To be certain, I arch an eyebrow at her, as though I’m daring her to say something. She doesn’t speak.
Her eyes are rimmed red, as though she’s been crying. Surely she didn’t care about Ferguson. So why cry?
Finally, she breaks the stare down and walks away, never saying a word. I return my attention to the ‘roast’ that’s going on. It’s actually pretty damn funny.
Besides, no one expects a laughing girl in the breakroom to have recently tortured a guy and dug up dark secrets no one even knew existed.
After some more time passes, I feel eyes on me again, and I jerk my head to the doorway to see Logan watching me with a small smile on his lips.
“What?” I ask, relieved he’s smiling.
“You. You’re just so…I guess you’re sick of hearing perfect. But it’s true.”
I slowly stand, smiling at him. I’m damn glad I’m not a suspect. I worried Lindy wouldn’t have the backbone she needed for this, but she must have proven herself.
Laurel has a home.
I’m sure of it.
“You okay? You’ve been gone a while.”
His smile slips. “Sorry about that. Had a lot to do. The only good thing besides seeing you right now, is that a traumatized homeless kid has a safe place to live.”
I breathe out silently, feeling a calm wash over me. He didn’t fail me. I knew he was perfect for this.
“Are you ready to go now?” I ask, moving toward him.
He grabs me at the waist, pulling me flush against his body, and he bends as I get up on my toes, meeting him as far as I can as his lips find mine.
“No,” he says, a sigh following as his lips stay on mine. “I have to stay.”
He pulls back reluctantly, regret shading his eyes. “I’ll give you my keys. You go home. This could take a while.”
Shit. They’ve definitely linked this kill to me—well, the me they can’t name, rather. I knew they would.
Now I have to let him do his job, trying to find me.
“Okay.”
I see Lindy and Laurel walk by, Craig escorting them out. Laurel waves at me again, and I wink at her, while Logan is distracted with running his lips over my forehead.
Craig fortunately doesn’t notice the wave goodbye either.
“I had to run a background check on a woman tonight just to make sure a killer chose wisely,” the guy who was at my house says as he walks into the breakroom, not noticing me on his way by. “This day is so fucked up.”
They know I chose her. But apparently she never talked.
Good girl, Lindy. Thank you.
“Donny, you remember my girlfriend, right?” Logan asks, and my heart does little cartwheels for reasons unbeknownst to me.
I’m his girlfriend.
I have a boyfriend.
This isn’t news, but it’s still making me gush like a thirteen-year-old who is hovering over the phone.
I don’t even think about the fact he’s the guy trying to catch the killer I moonlight as.
Donny whirls around, surprised to see me.
“Sorry,” he says, then nods in acknowledgment as he pours a cup of coffee. “I didn’t even see you.”
I just smile, looking all sweet and shit. No ruthless killer here, boys. Just a harmless woman falling in love. That’s all.
“Here are the keys,” Logan tells me, placing said keys into my palm. “I’d walk you down, but I have a shitload to do. I’m so sorry.”
I shrug, and some random guy walks over, apparently ready to escort me out.
“I’ll see you later?”
Logan’s lips find mine, answering that question without words. A throat-clearing comes from behind me—Donny. But Logan doesn’t stop putting on a show, his tongue toying with mine as he pulls me as close as possible.
I melt against him, uncaring if the world sees how head-over-heels I am. When he finally breaks the kiss, I’m dizzy, and maybe a little high.
He cups my cheek, staring at me for a long moment. “Later,” he says, then turns and leaves me behind as Craig meets him halfway.
I don’t look back at Donny as I let the other guy lead me out. He never says a word, and I don’t speak to him. He’s blushing fiercely, as though a little PDA shocked him and embarrassed the hell out of him.
Awww. Such a sweet little guy.
He escorts me all the way to Logan’s SUV, and I drive away, heading home to get some much-needed sleep. I’m glad I no longer have to hide my exhaustion.
The patrol cars at the end of my driveway are gone, apparently called away to deal with the latest homicide case that involves several missing children.
It’s a terrible pun, but I nailed that bastard’s balls to the wall.
Well, I actually nailed them to a chair while he cried for hours on end. Thank fuck for gloves. No way was I touching them ugly, wrinkly, hairy things with my hands otherwise.
My phone rings, and I see Jake’s name on it. I told him not to call me on this phone anymore.
“What’s wrong?”
“That girl, Erica Norris? The Boogeyman let her go.”
“What? When?”
“Don’t know. She’s demanding to speak with your boy. Says she won’t talk to anyone but Logan Bennett. She’s about an hour and a half away from you.”
“How do you know this?”
“Hacked the FBI cameras. Don’t worry. They won’t know it was me. They’ll think it was a Russian guy who has been dead for two years.”
“Why would he let her go?”
“Beats the hell out of me. I’ll let you know when I know. This badass is still on the case.”
I grin, rolling my eyes. Only Jake.
Hanging up, I walk up the steps to my house.
Weirdly, I hear music playing when I walk in. I must have left it on.
I shut the door, locking it.
Just as I turn the corner, something collides with my face like a hammer, and I’m thrown against the wall as a cry of pain escapes me. My keys and phone are knocked out of my hands and crash to the ground, but the sound is nothing more than a distant echo.
Before my eyes can adjust to the darkness, an arm bears down on my throat, strangling me, while my dazed head tries to catch up, still reeling from the explosive pain.
My hand shoots up, trying to connect with something, but a strong, vice-grip encases my wrist, twisting it painfully.
“Feisty. I like that. And so pretty. Agent Bennett picks them well,” a deep, sinister voice says from the darkness, chilling my blood to the core. Just a glimmer of light highlights malicious eyes too close to mine. “He left you all alone finally. Tell me, princess, are you afraid of the Boogeyman?”
End of Book 2
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
S.T. Abby is a lover of all romance sub-genres, but has recently dipped her feet into dark romance. But she wanted to bring a new twist to the genre. So, she created a new name, and yes, it’s stabby… Her other pen name is for her lighter books full of laughs. For now, she’s keeping her true identity a secret, but one day she’ll share. Well, as long as people don’t want to find her and punish her for the nightmares she may or may not give them.
You can find me here: My Facebook.
Or email me at [email protected]
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
> CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
ABOUT THE AUTHOR