by T. K. Leigh
“You’re giving him more credit than he deserves. He doesn’t give a shit about you! Why should you care about him?” He reached for her arm.
“No!” She spun around, freeing herself from his grasp. “I don’t know what you did to get closure, and I don’t think I want to know, but harming someone else just so I don’t have to hurt anymore is not the way.”
She stormed out of the hotel room and dashed down the hallway toward the bank of elevators, trying to shake off their conversation.
But she couldn’t.
Chapter Four
December 18
6:30 AM
WITH HEAVY EYELIDS, ALEXANDER steered his dark SUV onto a narrow road in a suburb twenty miles outside of Boston. Dense trees lined the street, hiding the large houses from view, ensuring the residents’ privacy. While he missed the excitement and convenience of living in the heart of the city, it wasn’t a place to raise a family. He wanted his daughter to experience the same things he did growing up…traipsing through a large back yard, building a snowman on those cold winter days, swimming in the pool to cool off in the heat of the summer. The sprawling estate in the heart of Dover where they now resided provided all that and more.
Despite the obscene size of it, they had decided on this house, thinking it would provide them ample space to grow their family of three. Melanie was now eight and, after two years in this house, it was still a family of three. Whenever they received a birth announcement from yet another friend or family member, the tension grew between Alexander and his wife. Neither one had summoned the courage to address the elephant that had been in the room for years now. That their prayers to add one more to their roster may go unanswered.
Navigating down the long driveway, the shingle-style colonial came into view, the overwhelming size serving as a bitter reminder of their small family. Olivia tried to fill the gaps by fostering rescue dogs from time to time, but it wasn’t the same. No amount of paws could fill the void left in her heart…in all their hearts. Melanie no longer asked for a little brother or sister. Olivia would never admit it to Alexander, but he had overheard her whispers to Kiera, her best friend, that she felt as if she were a failure as a woman. Whenever Alexander had to get something out of storage and stumbled across all the nursery furniture they had saved from when Melanie was a baby, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were a failure, too.
Slowing the SUV to a stop, Alexander stared at the stillness of the house during the early morning hour. A light drizzle fell, melting part of the blanket of snow that had fallen the previous week. A slight smile crossed his face as he recalled a recent conversation he had with his daughter. They were decorating the Christmas tree, which seemed to become more and more difficult every year due to their cat, Nepenthe, taking up residence in the branches the instant the tree arrived. When he asked Melanie what she wanted for Christmas this year, she said all she wanted was for it to snow since that was what the reindeer and Santa were used to.
He gazed down at her, growing nostalgic as the little girl continued placing decorations on the tree, their dog, Runner, behind her every step of the way. Alexander was more than aware this may be the last Christmas Melanie believed in Santa.
When Olivia and Alexander were expecting her, people told them time and time again to cherish the early days, despite the lack of sleep, because they grew up so fast. Nothing could have been more true. In the blink of an eye, it seemed like their little girl had become a little lady. In just a few years, she would be a teenager, trading their time together to go shopping with friends. Growing up was inevitable, but Alexander would give anything to keep her young and innocent for just a little while longer. He witnessed the cruelties of the world almost daily. He didn’t want Melanie exposed to any of that.
When a light flicked on in one of the second-floor windows, he could almost feel Olivia’s warmth as she woke up. He had spent the past few hours formulating what he would tell her when she asked why he had to leave in the middle of the night. It wasn’t the first time he had done so and it wouldn’t be the last, but this was different. How could he look in his wife’s eyes and tell her it was just another case? Nothing could be further from the truth.
Driving the SUV up the remainder of the cobblestone path, he pulled it into the large garage and stepped out. Walking into the kitchen through the garage entrance, a low light illuminated the large, open space. Alexander made his way to the counter and popped a pod into the one-cup brewer. The early hour and lack of sleep were starting to catch up to him. He considered crawling back into bed, but knew his mind wouldn’t let him sleep…not until he had more answers.
The past few hours, as he drove around listlessly, he kept telling himself this wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t possibly have foreseen something like this happening to Mischa of all people, a woman who, much like her brother, dedicated her life to making other people’s lives better. Still, there was a nagging feeling buried deep within that had he stayed in touch with her, things may have been different.
Watching the dark liquid trickle into his mug, the aroma of coffee finding its way to his senses, Alexander contemplated who could have been responsible for Mischa’s death, each thought more hopeless than the last. From what he knew, which wasn’t much, she didn’t have any enemies. She lived a simple life. Granted, it had been almost a year since they last spoke. Still, nothing about the woman he remembered would make him come to the conclusion this was anything other than an unfortunate, brutal murder at the hands of a local serial killer. Still, something about it didn’t add up, particularly after receiving additional information from Dave. The extensive bruising, the restraint marks on her wrists and ankles, coupled with the lacerations on her face, neck, arms, and torso raised Alexander’s suspicions that Mischa had been targeted specifically. This wasn’t just an instance of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time, as they believed to be the case with the rest of his victims. This looked personal.
“Hey,” a soft voice murmured as a slender arm wrapped around his midsection, bringing him out of his cloud of remorse.
He turned around, a calm washing over him for the first time all night when he gazed at his rock, his life, his everything. Olivia’s five-foot, nine-inch frame was dressed in a long, silk robe, the ivory color a stark contrast to her olive-toned skin. Her curly, dark brown hair was disheveled, and Alexander wanted nothing more than to get lost in her to forget about the past few hours.
“Hey,” he breathed, pulling her close.
This was what he needed, her warmth enclosed in his arms. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the heavenly aroma of vanilla. Despite their nearly decade-long marriage, he found himself falling in love with her all over again each and every day — with her smile, her laugh, her spirit. Until Melanie was born, she was the only girl he had ever loved. He didn’t think it would be possible to love another human as much as he loved Olivia, but he was wrong. Olivia was his heart, but Melanie was the blood that kept it beating. She was his reason for wanting to be a better man.
“Late-night emergency?” She leaned her head against his chest.
“Mmm-hmm,” he answered, closing his eyes as he lost himself in her embrace. He refused to let go, her devotion to him giving him strength. Rocking from foot to foot, they swayed to the music only they could hear, moving in unison, the tempo in their heads identical, regardless of the stiff silence in the room.
“What was it this time?” She tilted her head back, wrapping her arms around his neck, playing with a little tuft of hair that had grown over his collar. He had meant to make time for a haircut, but work was busy lately. Olivia didn’t seem to mind, though. She said she liked when his hair grew out a little because it reminded her of the unkempt, disheveled hair he sported when they started dating.
He stared into her beautiful brown eyes, his gaze raking over her soft complexion. Luckily, Melanie had inherited all her mother’s traits — her thick, dark hair, her high cheekbones, her passion for music and animals
. But there was no denying their daughter had inherited Alexander’s eyes, the green as vibrant as freshly cut grass.
“A dead body in Boston,” he murmured.
“What?” Olivia gasped, stepping away from him, studying his face.
His late-night emergencies typically had to deal with complications at one of his company’s overseas operations — an explosion in an oil field in the Middle East, a car bomb in Turkey, an attack on a camp in Sudan. Something that never truly hit close to home. It was different this time. The target wasn’t a government contractor doing a dangerous job he signed up to do. The victim was someone who, at one time, was family to him…to all of them.
He nodded, his gaze somber. A heaviness set in his chest, the weight of knowing this could have been prevented returning with a vengeance. For a brief moment, as he lost himself in the love and reverence of his wife, he found peace with his newfound knowledge of Mischa’s death. In Olivia’s arms, the tragedy and cruelty of the real world disappeared, even if for just a minute, and he would give anything to go back to that bubble.
“Who?” she pressed, a slight quiver in her chin as she searched his eyes for an answer she probably wasn’t prepared for.
With a heavy heart, he whispered, “Mischa Tate.”
Olivia closed her eyes, a short breath escaping her lungs. “Oh, Alex,” she murmured, shaking her head in a way that made him think she wasn’t surprised by the news. “How?” Craning her neck, she searched his eyes.
“I don’t know with any certainty. Dave called and asked me to come down to a fish processing plant in Southie, almost in Dorchester.”
“Southie?” Olivia asked, turning and handing him the cup of coffee that had finished brewing before preparing one for herself. She must have known by his tired, scratchy voice and barely open eyelids that he needed coffee like he needed air. “Why would Mischa be in Southie?”
He shook his head. “Last I heard, she had a townhome in Arlington.”
Olivia nodded. “It’s right down the street from Mo and Kiera’s new house,” she said, referring to two of her good friends.
Alexander scrunched his eyebrows. “You’ve been to Mischa’s?”
She spun around and opened the refrigerator door, searching for some milk. “I passed the street sign a few months ago when I went to see Kiera. I remember thinking I knew that street name for some reason, like I knew someone who lived there. It drove me crazy for weeks.” She closed the refrigerator door, poured milk into her mug, then raised it to her lips, leaning against the elaborate marble countertop. They had cost a small fortune, but Olivia had fallen in love with them. Alexander spared no expense when it came to his wife. “When I was putting together a list for our Christmas cards, I noticed Mischa’s address and saw it was that street.”
She smiled, her eyes looking everywhere but at Alexander. He tried not to think too much into it, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling that Olivia was hiding something from him.
“What was the cause of death?” she asked when he remained silent, studying her. When her eyes finally met his, he could tell she struggled to reel in her emotions. Mischa had been like a sister to them at one time, especially once Landon began working for the security company. It wasn’t until his death that they grew apart. Landon was the glue that bound them together. Alexander lost more than just one of the best friends and employees he ever had. He lost himself.
“Dave won’t know until they conduct the official autopsy, but based on the fact that she was beaten to death, stuffed into a barrel, then left somewhere in Southie, he thinks she may have been another victim of the Castle Island Killer.”
Olivia pulled her lips between her teeth. “Who?”
“Castle Island Killer. Apparently, it’s one of Dave’s open investigations. It’s been going on for the last month or so. Bodies have shown up in the South Boston area every few days, the first one around Castle Island. The victims cross every ethnicity, gender, and age group. There has been no common denominator in how his victims are chosen. The men are killed with a bullet to the head, and the women’s throats are slashed. All of the bodies are shoved into a barrel. This time…” He drew in a long breath. “Her face was barely recognizable from all the bruising and swelling.”
Olivia covered her mouth, a few tears falling down her cheeks.
“It most likely wasn’t a quick death. Mischa probably suffered for hours…” He trailed off, closing his eyes to regain his composure. It didn’t matter how much training he had undergone throughout his career. Nothing could prepare him, or anyone, for the death of a loved one. “There was no quick bullet to the head or slash to the throat. She probably fell in and out of consciousness for hours, maybe even days, as she fought against horrendous pain, her brain swollen from multiple blows to her head. Dave promised the second the medical examiner completes his autopsy report, he’ll provide a copy to me. Until then, it’s all just speculation based on an initial exam.”
Shaking her head, Olivia kept her mouth covered. “How awful,” she said in a small voice. She wiped at her cheeks as Alexander brought her into his arms, trying to offer her comfort. He would do anything to shelter her from such horror.
“Ugh! Are you two kissing again?” a sweet voice squeaked. Olivia pulled back slightly, but Alexander kept her close, lost in her eyes.
“We are, and you’re next, munchkin!”
After placing a kiss on Olivia’s lips, Alexander broke his hold and rushed toward Melanie, scooping her into his arms as she squealed with delight. He knew it was only a matter of time until she pushed him away and barely looked up from texting with her friends. Thankfully, today was not that day. He was still her fun dad who took her and her friends camping and taught them survival skills, much to Olivia’s dismay. Who took her to Hawaii when she showed an interest in learning to surf. Who made her pancakes every Saturday morning.
“Stop it!” Melanie squealed, her voice echoing in the cavernous kitchen. Runner’s barking only added to the ruckus.
Alexander needed this after the night he had. He needed to feel a sense of normalcy, a connection to the people he cared about most.
“Put me down!”
Her giggles warmed his heart. He hoisted her over his shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes. Her legs kicked, her laughter increasing.
“Dad! Stop! I’ll have Runner go after you!”
“That dog doesn’t even chase the cat these days,” he replied, spinning around, her brown curls flying. His eyes locked on Olivia’s as she shook her head, laughing.
“You’re going to make her sick, then you can clean it up.”
Grinning, he slowed his steps and lowered Melanie back to her feet, holding her steady while she regained her balance.
“Pancakes, Daddy?” she asked once she was no longer dizzy, her eyes hopeful.
“It’s Friday. A school day.”
“No, it isn’t!” she replied excitedly, jumping up and down. “It’s the first day of Christmas break!”
“Already?” He looked at Olivia, who just shrugged. He had been so busy at work, it didn’t even dawn on him it was just a week before Christmas. He wondered what else he had dropped the ball on. “When I was your age, we were in school up until the day before Christmas Eve.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Melanie joked, mimicking a mouth opening and closing with her hand. “And walked uphill both ways. In the snow.”
“Shoeless,” Olivia added, her voice light.
“With no cell phone!” Alexander smiled.
“What?” Melanie gasped. “You didn’t have a cell phone when you were growing up?”
Alexander shook his head. “Or an iPad.”
“Wow,” she replied in faux amazement. “How did you survive?”
He tousled her hair. “Barely.”
“So… Pancakes, Daddy?” she asked again.
He looked at the time, then Olivia. He hated disappointing his daughter, but Mischa’s death lay heavy on his mind and he needed some answers
. True, his brother-in-law was one of the best homicide detectives around, who wouldn’t stop until he found the killer, but Alexander couldn’t sit back and do nothing, particularly with his gut telling him Mischa wasn’t just another victim of the Castle Island Killer, as the evidence would lead everyone to believe.
“Melanie, sweetie,” Olivia began, noticing his apparent unease. “Daddy has to go into work today.” She opened her arms and Melanie ran into them.
“I promise we’ll make pancakes tomorrow,” he offered in consolation.
“And go ice skating?” she added excitedly.
“The lake hasn’t frozen over yet, munchkin. It’s not safe.”
She frowned.
“We’ll find something else to do. Maybe your mother will take you to the skating rink today, and we’ll go sledding tomorrow, if you’d like.”
She nodded vigorously, giving him a wide, toothy grin. Running from Olivia, she flung her arms around him. “Love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too, little nugget.”
“I’m not little anymore.”
“You’ll always be little to me.”
Chapter Five
December 18
7:30 AM
DROPLETS FELL FROM THE sky as Rayne climbed the steps from the Park red line station onto the street. She didn’t know what possessed her to get off at this stop. It wasn’t close to where she lived or worked. Not anymore. But after running out on Mark, she was consumed with her past.
On autopilot, her legs carried her the few city blocks toward the storefront that had been a second home to her for the better part of a decade. The city was just coming to life, the illumination from the streetlamps replaced by the rising sun hidden behind an endless sky of clouds. The sidewalks were slick with a combination of rain and melted snow, a brown slush highlighting hundreds of footprints.