The Intended Victim

by Ivy, Alexandra

  Her eyes widened as she grasped what he was implying. “You’re not going to confront him, are you?”

  Ash tucked the paper bag with the note in the pocket of the coat he was still wearing. “We’re just going to have a little chat.”

  She slammed her fists on her hips, glaring at him with a smoldering frustration.

  “Ash. Dammit. If you get yourself hurt, I’ll . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence. Either because she didn’t know an appropriately awful threat or because she simply couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt.

  Without thought, he leaned forward and brushed his lips over her mouth.

  “I love you too,” he murmured.

  He felt her stiffen in shock and he slowly lifted his head to study her pale face. He wasn’t sure if he meant the words teasingly or from the depths of his soul.

  Maybe both.

  As disturbed as Remi by his impulsive words, Ash turned to leave the kitchen through the back door. Not only was he in a hurry to get away from Remi before she could remind him that they were no longer a couple, but he had an idea of how he could ensure an opportunity to do more than just ask a few questions.

  Five minutes later, he was knocking on Doug’s door. The porch light flicked on, and he saw the man peeking through the curtain. He disappeared from view and Ash waited for him to pull open the door. And waited. And waited.

  The wind swirled and tugged at Ash’s coat, the chill slicing through him like a knife. He felt as if his toes had frozen into ice cubes by the time the door swung inward and Doug glowered at him.

  “Yeah?”

  The man was wearing a wrinkled gray sweat suit that emphasized his paunch. His hair was mussed and the potent scent of whiskey wafted through the air. Gone was the neat and tidy man from that morning. Also gone was his affable smile.

  “Ash Marcel,” Ash said, holding out his hand. Not because he was overly polite. He just wanted to feel whether Doug’s fingers were cold from recently being outside. “We met earlier.”

  Doug grudgingly clasped his hand for a brief shake. His skin was warm. It was possible he’d been wearing gloves, of course, but Ash was starting to doubt that Doug had been the one peering through the window.

  Still, he had every intention of checking out his house while he was there.

  “It’s late,” Doug complained.

  “Sorry to bother you.” Ash stepped forward, using his larger frame to force the man backward so he could enter the foyer. It was a technique he’d perfected while he was a detective. “But there was someone sneaking around Remi’s house.”

  Doug stiffened, an expression of outrage rippling over his face. “Are you accusing me?”

  The man’s defensive manner was way too aggressive. Which meant he had something to hide. “You?” Ash offered a faux smile of confusion. “Why would I accuse you?”

  Doug’s anger faltered and he flushed as he realized that he’d overreacted.

  “Why else would you be pounding on my door?”

  “I was too late to get a good look at the perp, but I chased him around the house and into your backyard. I think he might have gone into your shed.”

  “Impossible. I keep it locked.”

  Ash hid his smile. It wasn’t locked. At least not after Ash had given the flimsy door a sharp shove with his shoulder.

  “Okay.” Ash gave a casual shrug. “I just wanted to make sure the creep didn’t manage to steal anything.”

  Doug’s lips flattened. He was no doubt thinking about his new lawn mower stored in the shed, along with whatever tools he might own.

  “Damn,” he finally muttered in defeat. “I’ll check it out.”

  Ash took another step forward, able to see around the edge of the foyer into a small living room. There was a couch, a low coffee table, and a TV hung on the wall. That was it. Hard to believe anyone would have a home more barren than his own, but there it was.

  He turned his attention back to Doug. “I’ll go with you, if you want.”

  “No, you can leave.”

  “Are you sure?” Ash tried to appear sympathetic. “My whole family is in law enforcement. One call and I can have a patrol car here ASAP.”

  Doug didn’t look reassured. He looked pissed. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Okay. Have a good night.”

  Ash turned toward the door and took a couple of steps forward. At the same time, he could hear the sound of Doug hurrying toward the back of the house.

  He paused, waiting until he heard the sound of a screen door slamming shut to be sure Doug was outside. Then, knowing he’d only have a couple of minutes, he turned to jog toward a nearby hallway. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he touched the screen. The light was dim, but it was all he dared to use.

  Entering the first room he found, he didn’t have to do any searching. It was a spare bedroom with a set of twin beds and nothing else. He peered into the bathroom before entering the last room. It was clearly the one Doug was using. There was a bed that hadn’t been made in days. Maybe weeks. A pile of clothes on the floor and a few clean ones hanging in the closet. There was a dresser filled with underwear and T-shirts, except for the bottom drawer that was stuffed with porn magazines.

  Ash shook his head as he jogged back up the hallway. Most men used the computer for porn. Doug was either old-fashioned or afraid that his online use was being monitored. Perhaps by an angry ex-wife who was looking for a way to keep his daughters from him.

  The kitchen was as barren as the rest of the house, but as Ash entered the dining room, he abruptly realized why Doug had been reluctant to let him in.

  Muttering a curse, he moved across the carpet toward the telescope that was set on a tripod and arranged next to the window. He didn’t have to look through the eyepiece to know that it wasn’t being used to study the stars. It was pointed directly at Remi’s bedroom window.

  Fury pounded through him as he ripped the expensive telescope off the tripod and slammed it against the ground. There was the sound of glass breaking, but he wasn’t satisfied. He stomped on it until the outer casing was shattered and spread across the carpet. Only when he was certain it was busted beyond repair did he turn and storm out of the dining room.

  He met Doug, who was entering from the back door. The man jerked to a halt, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of Ash. “What the hell are you still doing in my house?”

  Ash folded his arms over his chest. “I wanted to offer you a warning.”

  “More imaginary thieves sneaking around my house?”

  Ash ignored the taunt. “I’m afraid your telescope is broken.”

  Doug’s eyes bugged out before he was trying to cover his ass. “What telescope?”

  Ash curled his lips in disgust. “The one you’ve been using to spy on Remi.”

  “What? That’s a lie.” Doug clenched his hands into fists, trying to meet Ash glare for glare. Less than a minute ticked past before he was lowering his head to stare at his feet. “You can’t prove anything,” he muttered.

  Ash snorted. Doug would be a fool if he ever tried to embezzle funds from his bank. He was a terrible liar.

  Unless he was pretending to be a terrible liar in the hope of throwing Ash off his trail . . .

  He shook his head. Right now, he was focused on the crime he’d caught Doug committing red-handed. “I don’t need to prove anything; I know exactly what you’ve been doing.”

  “Get out.”

  “I haven’t given you my warning.”

  Doug lifted his head to glare at Ash. “What is it?”

  “You replace that telescope and I’ll shove it up your ass,” he said, his voice soft and lethal. “Got it?”

  Doug’s face paled, easily sensing that Ash wasn’t exaggerating. He fully intended to follow through on his threat if he caught the man spying on Remi.

  “Yeah,” he rasped. “I got it.”

  * * *

  My windshield wipers slap back and forth, combating the monstrous snowfl
akes that filled the darkness with a swirl of white.

  I cast a quick glance at my latest creation. She is sitting next to me. My fingers twitch. She isn’t perfect. Her nose is still wrong, despite the surgery. And she’s too short and thick through the hips. I wish I could dump her beside the road and start again. But my sickness is growing too quickly. The last attempt to cut away the evil was . . . sloppy. I had no opportunity to mold the organism into a lasting cure. It had been too unstable, too unpredictable. It had forced me to destroy it before I could fully purge the poison.

  It was no wonder I was so swiftly spiraling toward the black hole in the center of my being.

  But I can’t give in to temptation, I sternly warn myself. Even if my latest creation is flawed, I have no options. I’m infected, not crazy. I can’t risk exposure.

  My gaze returns to the dark highway even as the vision of sweet, sweet blood dripping over my fingers fills my mind.

  Chapter Ten

  Jax arrived at the station on Sunday morning just as the sun was peeking over the Chicago skyline. The early start wasn’t just because he had an urgent need to hunt down the Butcher. He understood that he couldn’t work 24-7 even if Remi was in danger. Nope, he was there at this ungodly hour because of the strange text that had hit his phone at the crack of dawn.

  Fortifying himself with a gallon of hot coffee, he drove through the nearly empty streets and pulled into the parking lot. He was still seated in his car, draining the last dregs from his travel mug when there was a sharp knock on his side window.

  He jerked his head around to glare at the face outlined in the muted sunlight.

  He released an exasperated breath, rolling down the window. Oliver White was a fellow cop who’d worked in the Property and Evidence Unit since Jax graduated from the Academy.

  “Shit, Oliver, don’t you know better than to startle a man who’s carrying? Especially when he hasn’t finished his coffee.”

  The cop shrugged. He was several inches shorter than Jax and several pounds heavier, with a nearly bald head beneath the hat that went with his uniform. “I wanted to catch you before you went inside.”

  Jax waited for his pulse to settle to a steady pace before unhooking his seat belt and shoving open the door of his car. Then, stepping into the frozen morning air, he studied his companion with blatant curiosity.

  “This all seems very cloak-and-dagger, Oliver,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  The man grimaced, his round face ruddy as he reached beneath his heavy coat to pull out a slender file folder. “Yeah, I’m probably being an idiot, but I wanted to give this to you without anyone knowing.”

  Jax reached out to take the folder. “What is it?”

  “A file that was found taped under Gage Walsh’s top drawer after he died.”

  Jax returned his attention to his companion. Had he misunderstood? “Stuck under his drawer?” he demanded. “Or taped?”

  “Taped,” Oliver insisted, glancing around the nearly empty lot before he continued in a low voice. “The janitor was repairing a bent leg on the desk before he put it in storage. Most of the stuff had been cleared out and any personal belongings had been sent to his widow, so when he found this stuck under the drawer, he didn’t know what to do with it. He finally decided to drop it off at the evidence room.”

  Jax felt a stirring of unease. “What did you do with it?”

  “I put it in a box next to the Butcher files. I assumed it had something to do with the case, but . . .” Oliver gave a vague lift of his hands.

  “But what?”

  Oliver nodded toward the folder in Jax’s hand. “When I glanced through it, I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Like it’s written in code.”

  Jax stared down at the file. It sounded like a script from some bad crime show.

  A dead detective. A hidden file that could reveal the serial killer, but alas, it’s written in code.

  He tried to laugh off his ridiculous imaginings, but the unease continued to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

  “We all have our own way of jotting down notes,” he pointed out. “I’m sure some of mine would look like a foreign language to other people.”

  Oliver gave a stubborn shake of his head. “I’ve seen a hundred of Gage’s files and they never looked like this. It got me thinking. Why would he write it in such a wacky way? So no one else could read it? Why? And why hide it in a place no one would look?” The words stumbled together, as if he was in a rush to get them out. “Only one answer. Because there was someone he didn’t trust. Someone close.”

  Jax suddenly understood why they were meeting in the frigid parking lot. And why Oliver was acting so weird.

  The older cop assumed Gage didn’t trust someone in the station. A coworker? A boss? Ash?

  No. He instantly squashed the thought. If Gage had any suspicion that Ash was somehow involved, he would have kept Remi far away from her fiancé. Even if that meant locking her in an igloo at the North Pole.

  He tucked the file beneath his coat. It was still too dark in the parking lot to read it. Besides, Oliver’s odd behavior was making him itchy. He wanted some privacy before he tried to decipher any code.

  “Why give it to me now?” he asked Oliver.

  “Gage Walsh stood next to me when I was accused of losing evidence during my first year on the job. And he gave me money when he knew my bitch of an ex-wife had taken me for everything I had. I owe him.” The male jutted his chin, his expression grim. “If the Butcher is really back, he has to be stopped before he can hurt Remi. That’s what Gage would want me to do.”

  Jax slowly nodded. “You’re right,” he assured his companion. “And thank you.”

  “Just catch the bastard,” Oliver muttered, turning to head toward his car, parked at the far end of the lot.

  Jax watched him walk away, briefly considering the possibility that this had been some elaborate setup. What better way to distract him from the case than to send him on some wild-goose chase with a mysterious file supposedly belonging to Gage?

  Then he gave a sharp shake of his head. He couldn’t start turning everyone into a suspect. That would only cloud his thoughts and make it impossible to look at the facts with a clear mind.

  For now, he would accept what Oliver was telling him was the truth.

  Shivering as a blast of air whirled around him, Jax hunched his shoulders and jogged toward the building. Now that he was here, he might as well get some work done.

  Once settled at his desk, he tossed aside his coat and opened the mystery file. Usually privacy was as rare as a pygmy three-toed sloth at the station house, but this morning a welcome hush had settled in the air. It wouldn’t last, but he was grateful for an hour or so of peace.

  The thought had barely formed when he was interrupted by a text hitting his cell phone. It was from Ash. He wanted to see Jax, but he didn’t want to leave Remi on her own. Jax sent back a text promising to send a patrol car to keep watch on the neighborhood and telling his brother to meet him at the station.

  Once he’d arranged for Remi’s protection, he returned his attention to the papers spread in front of him. Oliver had been right. The markings and abbreviations made no sense. At least not to him.

  Lost in thought, Jax muttered a curse when he heard approaching footsteps. Swiftly, he was grabbing the pages and shoving them back into the folder.

  “Hey, bro.” The familiar voice had Jax releasing a sigh of relief as he watched Ash step around the partition.

  A wave of warmth crashed through Jax. God, he’d missed his brother. There’d been something incredibly right about entering the squad room to see Ash at his desk. Or hitting the basketball court to shoot hoops after one of them had a bad day. Or spending the weekend at the lake pretending to fish . . .

  He swallowed a sigh. Ash had to do what made him happy. Even if it left an aching void in Jax’s life.

  “You’re up early,” Jax said, noting the tense lines of his brother’s face. Clearly, he hadn’t
spent a relaxing night in Remi’s arms.

  A damned shame.

  “Not as early as you.” Ash did his own bit of inspecting, his gaze lingering on the dark circles beneath Jax’s eyes. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Enough.” Jax shrugged away his brother’s concern. “You said you had something for me to see?”

  Ash reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded paper bag. He tossed it on Jax’s desk.

  “This was shoved under Remi’s front door while we were out yesterday morning.”

  Curious, Jax opened the bag and glanced at the torn sheet of paper with a scribbled note on it.

  I need to see you.

  He glanced back up at Ash. “There’s not much to go on,” he said. “It could have come from anyone.”

  Ash nodded. “Yeah. I’m probably overreacting, but I hoped you would run the prints.”

  Jax closed the bag and opened a drawer to drop it inside. He was doubtful that the Butcher would start requesting appointments with his potential victims by sticking notes under their doors, but he was willing to grasp at any straw.

  “It will take a while, but I’ll get them in the system,” he promised, folding his arms on the desk and leaning forward. “How’s Remi?”

  “Scared, but trying to pretend everything is fine.”

  “And you?”

  “Scared, but trying to pretend everything is fine.”

  Jax grimaced. He wished he could tell them not to worry, but he couldn’t. Not when there was a real possibility that the Butcher was back in town, and that he was focused on Remi.

  “We’re going to catch the bastard,” he said instead. “I promise.”

  Ash nodded. “I caught sight of the patrol car when I left the house,” he said. “Thanks.”

  Jax gave a lift of his shoulders. “No problem. Everyone on the force wants to make sure Remi is kept safe.”

  “Let them know I appreciate everything they’re doing.”

  “I will.” Jax glanced around, making sure there was no one standing close enough to overhear their conversation. “Tell me what happened last night.”

  Ash calmly removed his coat, hanging it on the top corner of the partition. “Last night?” He pretended he didn’t know what Jax was asking. “Let’s see. Remi and I ate some Chinese food. We drank some wine. We went through the old files.” He stopped, giving a sudden snap of his fingers. “Oh. I did uncover a new piece of evidence.”