Cold Hunt

by Mary Stone

  I spent each session drawing information from them with great care. Picking and pulling to ream out the root of their problems was one of my favorite things to do. Not because I cared whether they worked through their issues or not. I found these people to be the most interesting. It’s the quiet ones you had to watch out for.

  It always had been.

  The choice to be a monster was never theirs. Their thoughts betrayed them at every turn, and any change in routine sent them into a spiral of epic proportions. With a little prodding, they were easily convinced of how easily the world could go on without them. The quiet ones listened to my concerns, absorbing the kindness of every syllable and knowing that they were a bane on this earth.

  Sometimes, they made sweeping changes, bettering themselves despite their challenges, and finding a way to move through the world anew. Other times, they took what I said to heart—that the world would be better off without them—and left my office for the last time with a “thank you” on their lips.

  I kept a book just for them, a shrine to all those who had come into my office holding on to their last hope. They were too far gone to save, though sometimes I had to work on them for a few months before they ended it all. These were my absolute favorites, the reason I waded through the cesspool of human suffering every day, my one glimmer of hope. That one shining moment when I could do my part to make the world a better place, one person at a time.

  The world was far too crowded anyway.

  After would come the inevitable flood of emails from my industry colleagues, assuring me that there were some people who couldn’t be saved. That I had done all I could, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. Their condolences made the moment even sweeter as they commended me for taking on the worst of the worst, for scraping the bottom of the barrel, and coming up for air before going back for more lost souls.

  I was a hero, my colleagues proclaimed each and every time I lost a client. They were so sure of this, it was a wonder that none had sent me my very own cape.

  “What do you think about that?” The high, nasally voice ripped me from my musings.

  In a chair far enough from my desk that he didn’t contaminate the air I breathed, my client smiled with practiced precision. He’s good, I thought with admiration.

  Handsome and accomplished already at a young age, the man used his lovably awkward demeanor to its full potential with astounding ease. The successful façade had eventually become part of who he was, and I wondered if he even realized how carefully curated each tick of muscle on his perfect face had become.

  He waited, his lips screwing up in an effort to convince me that he was nervously awaiting my answer. But he knew it didn’t work that way, and I despised him for taking a moment from his soliloquy to bring me into his musings when he normally talked without constraint right up until I had Gabe lead him from the room.

  I folded my hands on the desk, tilting my head downward so I could glare at him over the rim of my glasses, delighted as his feigned nervousness became genuine. I could deflate him with one well-placed stretch of silence or a perfectly timed inhalation of breath.

  I wondered whether he knew the world would be brighter without him, and how long it would take him to figure that out if I gave him a little push.

  “What do you think about it?” I didn’t have the slightest idea what he’d been talking about. I’d all but forgotten he was in the room.

  He leaned back as if I’d given him the meaning of life, put his finger to his lips, considering whatever he’d been saying before he interrupted my thoughts.

  I was starting to think I’d broken him when he finally spoke. “Well, I think that I need to stand up for myself. To let them know that I’m not going to suffer ageism without a fight.”

  “Ageism?” I repeated, my interest tickled.

  “You know, because I’m young. And I’m sure they just picked her for the promotion because she’s a woman. It’s appalling, really. I don’t know when the world shifted, but this is clearly an attack on young, successful men.”

  Ageism, I mused, fantasizing about shoving him out my office window, consequences be damned. What a horrid little troll of a man, no matter that he was pretty. “How old are you again?”

  “I’ll be twenty-two in July.” He puffed his chest out with pride.

  Not if I have anything to say about it, I thought, delight welling inside me. “I think it’s important to remember that there are sometimes things going on in the background you might not be aware of.”

  “Such as?”

  “Maybe your company had to promote her, for whatever reason.” I paused so my next words would have the greatest impact on his fragile ego. “Or maybe they have something better in store for you and had to get her out of the way to make you the logical choice for a greater position.”

  His lips parted, and he let out a huge breath. “Whoa. I never thought of that. Thank you.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” I raised my eyebrows when he stood, feigning concern. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, everything is perfect. Thank you for that. I’ll see you next week.”

  “You still have fifteen minutes.”

  He shrugged, his pretty-boy smile overtaking his face. “Think of it as a tip for being so awesome. Really. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

  He trounced out of my office, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I was genuinely surprised.

  On cue, Gabe appeared in the doorway, dark eyebrows drawn together in question. “Is everything okay?”

  I nodded at the loose sheets he held in his hand. “Are those the notes from the Kline patient? I’ll take those.”

  “I haven’t transcribed them yet.”

  I gestured to the copy machine in the corner of my office. “Run them through really quick, and I’ll keep the originals.”

  He did what I asked without question, like he always did. But after he handed me the stack of yellow papers torn from a legal pad, he lingered. “Do I need to issue him a refund for the extra time? He left early.”

  I shook my head. “It appears Jason feels like he’s gotten what he needs today.”

  “Joshua.” Gabe gave me a knowing smile before walking back across the room and closing my office door.

  “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” I motioned him forward, the annoying businessman’s name already forgotten. Why would I care what he called himself? That’s what I kept Gabe for.

  Gabe smiled and hurried to my side of the desk, light on his feet, his lithe muscles poetry in motion. He perched on the edge of my desk, his knee close to my hand.

  My fingers twitched, but I made no move to touch him. Office decorum was to be maintained at all costs. It was something I couldn’t afford to waffle on.

  Gabe’s full lips smiled down at me. “I was wondering if you were planning to take any time off this month.”

  “More than just the weekend, you mean?”

  He tilted his head, flicking his bright eyes off to the side in a flirty expression. “I meant, maybe like an entire week.” The way the light from the window lit up his eyes, as if there was a layer of green beneath the brown, was mesmerizing.

  “Have your eyes always had so much green in them?” Was I truly noticing this for the first time?

  His laugh tittered like early morning birdsong. “I don’t think anyone’s eyes are naturally this color. They’re contacts.” He touched the back of my hand, his warmth seeping into my skin. “I was thinking more of a vacation. I have some things I want to do, and a weekend won’t cut it.” He frowned. Slightly jutting lower lip, practiced pout. But unlike the businessman, Gabe pulled it off. “I don’t want to leave you without an assistant, and I’m afraid if I’m gone too long, you’ll replace me.”

  “Replace you?” I scoffed, playing his game. “That would take more than a week. You know how particular I am.”

  His hand remained on mine, his skin silken and hot. “Yo
u’re always saying how you went through so many assistants before me.”

  Because I killed them.

  “They didn’t measure up to you. I’ve told you that before.” I rewarded him with my own smile, happy to see his face flush with pleasure.

  “You have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry that there’s someone out there better than me.” Gabe leaned toward me, just the slightest bit. “This is the best job I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to lose it.”

  “What is it you’re wanting to do?” I slid my hand out from under his. He flinched, and his lip stuck out a little farther. The sting of rejection on his face delighted me. “If you just need a break, take Friday off. I think I only have a couple of appointments.”

  “You have three.” His eyes lit with pride for knowing my schedule off the top of his head.

  “You can reschedule them and take a long weekend.”

  “I really need an entire week.”

  “Do you want to tell me why?” I challenged, unwilling to give him anything until he confessed all.

  He sighed, looking bashful. “My high school reunion is coming up, and I want to spend some time in my hometown.”

  I sat back in my chair. “I just realized I have no idea where you’re from.”

  “Florida.” He grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

  “What brought you to South Carolina in the first place?”

  His cheeks flushed bright red as he squirmed. As close as he was, it was quite a show, and I made a mental note to find all the things that triggered this response in him. He was a vision with his full lips tight, the humiliation of whatever past he wanted to keep secret coursing through him like a siren’s song. He clearly had potential I hadn’t tapped.

  When he didn’t answer, I prodded him a little. “Whatever it is, there’s no reason to be ashamed. Come on, Gabe, it’s me. We’ve been through so much. You can tell me, whatever the case may be.” I laid my hand on his thigh.

  He stiffened, his humiliation flipping to something much more visceral. His cheeks heated even more, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his upper lip.

  When he finally let out a sigh and placed his hand over mine, I knew I had him. “I came here with a man.”

  “That’s not a surprise.”

  Gabe scoffed, letting out a long breath. “Of course, it’s not. You’re one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever met. But he wasn’t just a boyfriend.” He shook his head, clearly embarrassed. “My addiction was really bad back then, and I was willing to do anything to get a fix. Anything.” He let the last word hang in the air, his fingers curled around my hand as he grappled with memories that were probably blurry with the haze of drug use. “I thought I was getting what I wanted, so I went with it.”

  He tilted his head back, eyes skyward but looking past the ceiling. He’d gone off somewhere else, battling his memories. Even clean for more than a year, the reminder of what he’d done to get what he wanted was a demon he couldn’t escape.

  I could feel him trembling beneath my touch, but when I shifted my hand, he squeezed his fingers tighter to keep me from removing it from his leg.

  He sighed again. “I just want to spend some time and show people how much I’ve overcome since they last saw me. The main reunion is on a Friday night, but there are events during the week prior to it as well. I know this sounds silly, and I shouldn’t care what these people think, but I want to show them that I’m not the loser they always said I was.”

  “Put the dates on the calendar, and I’ll make it happen.” I watched him, waiting for my words to sink it.

  “Really?” His face lit up with excitement. “But how will you—”

  “Manage without you?” I laughed. “As much as I enjoy having you here to take care of the mundane, I can handle it alone.”

  “I didn’t mean to say that—”

  I waved off his words. Rewarding Gabe every now and then only paid off in the end. “I wasn’t offended. I’m touched that you take your job so seriously.” I squeezed his thigh and removed my hand, reaching into my top drawer and handing him my business credit card. “Go ahead and book the week of your dreams and put it on here.”

  “Sir?”

  “Luxury rental car, penthouse suite for the week, first-class flight. Just make sure you don’t give in to temptation.” I pressed my lips together. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I don’t want to be flying out to Florida to drag you out of the gutter again.”

  He flinched, and his face reddened again, making my heart skip a beat. He really was a delight. “I won’t let you down. But you don’t have to do all that for me.”

  “Don’t think I expect anything in return. I’ve been trying to think of some way of repaying your loyalty for a while. Think of it as a late Christmas bonus.”

  “You gave me a thousand dollars at Christmas.”

  I shrugged at the mention of a few paltry dollars. “Take the gift or don’t. No strings. Just take care of yourself. I would be heartbroken if you fell into old habits.”

  “Understood.” Gabe lowered his head, solemn and appropriately humbled. I already missed him. “And thank you. I wish I could explain how much this means to me.”

  “No need to.” I met his shimmering, now greenish-brown eyes, trying not to show how much I enjoyed looking into them. “We all have people who have made us feel less-than in our lives. You’ve come a long way. It’s natural for you to want to show that off.”

  “And the flashy rental car?”

  I let my lips curve up into a smile. “That’s the icing on the cake. You deserve it, and they never deserved you.”

  His eyes misted over, but before he could go all soft on me, I shooed him out the door. The businessman had worn me out, and I’d given him the last remnant of my mercy by letting him walk out of my office still breathing. I needed some time to regroup.

  Alone at last, I turned to the locked drawer of my desk.

  Once Steve Garret and Eddie Bower had been implicated in the cold cases of Mabel Vicente and Tabitha Baker, I’d brought my books back to the file drawer protected by the thumbprint scanner. My mementos remained in the safe deposit box, but they should’ve been there all along, and I accepted that. Having a scrapbook dedicated to crime victims wasn’t a crime but being caught with their actual possessions could make me a person of interest. It didn’t matter where I’d obtained the trinkets, just having them was enough to turn my life upside down.

  But the books. They were mine, and no one could say a thing if they happened to stumble across them.

  I took out the first one. One page at a time, I ran my fingers over the protective plastic, until the tension of dealing so closely with people started to melt away. By the time I was through the third book, I was beginning to feel like myself again. In control and balanced.

  But I could still feel the little nip of that familiar urge nibbling at my soul.

  Soon, the books wouldn’t be enough.

  6

  Tension practically snapped in the air of the evidence locker as Ellie watched Jillian walk the length of the table, hands behind her back as she considered each case and moved on. When she stopped in front of a box in the middle of the long line of cold cases and a smile slowly spread across her lips, Ellie was afraid to let out the breath she was holding.

  “What about this one here?” Jillian picked up one of the postmortem pictures from the shrinking line of files on the long table. “She’s got very distinct features. I bet we can match her pretty quickly.”

  Ellie finally released the breath in a whoosh and nodded vigorously. Anything to get another victim on the way to being identified. They were hot lately, partially due to Jillian’s killer instincts. She’d be foolish not to agree with the filing clerk turned sleuth.

  They’d been at it all morning, and her eyes were starting to feel gritty. Jillian spent almost as much time weighing each victim’s searchability before she even uploaded them as Entity did scouring the entir
e internet for a glimpse into their lives. Ellie was drained, despite their success so far. Computer work was not her thing.

  She checked her watch. Only one minute closer to lunch and the freedom of leaving the stagnant air of the basement behind her.

  She’d asked Jillian earlier why they couldn’t just load all the pictures and run one massive search. Jillian had explained, but only seconds into it, Ellie’s brain shut down, and she wished she hadn’t asked. Almost as observant as Ellie was, Jillian had stopped midsentence and redirected her focus back to the computer. Ellie had found herself grateful that Jillian actually got her. There weren’t many people who did.

  Getting up to stand behind Jillian’s chair, Ellie watched the clerk quickly load the picture of their current Jane Doe and release it into Entity’s capable circuits. The motor on the laptop whirred as the address bar at the top of the screen scrolled through each website, slowly at first, then so fast that Ellie’s eyes couldn’t register more than the first few letters on the search bar.

  Excited by the speed, Jillian’s eyes were glued to the little stopwatch she’d pulled up on her phone. The last few searches had taken just a few minutes.

  “Her uniqueness is going to help us in the long run.” Ellie pointed at the counter marking off the websites searched. “That number is moving faster than the last Jane Doe did. I’m trying to keep track of how each victim’s search goes so maybe I can help Jenna work out the bugs. If we know why certain searches go faster, aside from the victim’s amount of online activity, maybe we can speed up the finished product. Her hope is to have every precinct in the country with this in-house in the next five years.”

  Ellie raised one eyebrow. “That’s a lofty goal.”

  “Nothing wrong with a bit of ambition. This could make cold cases a thing of the past, or at least whittle them down to almost nothing. Could you imagine if we could fit the entire country’s cold cases in our evidence locker?”