Page 14

14

STONE

I drove back to the rental, the drive completely silent. Len tucked her knees into her chest in the passenger seat and wrapped her arms around them. Her dress fell completely back, exposing more of her skin, but I kept my eyes glued to the road, knowing she didn’t realize.

It wasn’t hard to piece together what she had lost.

It was even easier to conclude that the man she was with before was an absolute despicable human.I saw the way he broke her, the utter sadness in her eyes when she realized her brother had the one thing she lost.

A new sense of rage built in me for what the Coastal Killer had done to her. I’d read the report, memorized every single wound inflicted on her. A stab to the lower abdomen. That was all it took. I didn’t need to be a doctor to understand what the consequences of that single wound could have been.

I helped Len out of the car, taking her hand and leading her into the house. She mindlessly followed, and I wasn’t certain she was even fully there.

We made our way inside, and she barely said anything before parting ways.

“Goodnight, Lenny,” I called after her as she dragged her feet up the steps.

“Goodnight,” her faint voice trailed back down to me.

I wandered into the kitchen, my mind far too awake now to sleep yet.

I found myself staring down the glass bottle that sat tauntingly on the counter in front of me. I brought it with me, and every second it sat there, I regretted it.

Beside the bottle, I noticed a new vase of flowers. Daisies sat in water, fully bloomed, a small touch of Len in the space.

The rage I felt at the Coastal Killer and the sadness I felt for everything Len lost was enough to trigger that horrible pit inside me trying to bury me in oblivion.

It was dragging up old memories I didn’t want to face.

Too familiar with the consequences of loss, my heart ached for Len. It wasn’t the same, but I knew that horrible feeling filling her, the same one that made me turn to alcohol and drugs when Blythe died in my arms.

I wanted to tell her that, to be there for her, but I saw the way she flinched at my touch.

She needed space, and I respected that, but as long as she kept showing up and letting me, I would continue to protect her, to keep her safe. And now, I vowed to myself as I turned away from the bottle glaring at me, I would make sure Len never felt the same excruciating pain I’d seen haunting her eyes tonight ever again.

* * *

The next few days, we set to work sorting through all the papers the sheriff gave us. Len helped without complaint, but I could tell she was going through the motions. I needed something to drag her out of it, distract her mind.

I was failing miserably.

My eyes glanced over the list of calls the sheriff’s office responded to at the pub in the months leading up to the killings. Bar scuffles, couple fighting after too many drinks, a few medical calls, but nothing close to standing out as significant.

“I’m finding a lot of discrepancies across each of these. Is that normal?” she asked, holding up the case reports I’d given her for half the victims.

“Like what?” I said, perking up.

I’d been sitting in the living room armchair for an hour, making notes in the margins of all the papers I had. She had taken to spreading things out on the floor. Birdie and Alonzo kept passing by her for occasional pets.

I swore I caught a glare from Alonzo on one of his laps.

“For example, this one says a witness saw her at the pub at 9:00 PM, but the final report and statement claim she was nowhere near there. Instead, it claims she must have been out for a run or walk,“ Len said, crinkling her nose.

I lean forward in the chair, taking in what she said. Someone messed with the report.

“This one says it was her first time visiting the bar, but I happen to know from my research, she was a regular there.”

Someone was definitely messing with the reports. I started shifting through mine faster, trying to find similar mistakes. Although I didn’t see as many glaring errors, the reports were certainly riddled with tiny ones, careless work.

“I don’t get it,” Len said. “Why would anyone falsify reports? How does that help them if it’s obvious an officer did it?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But it’s somewhere to start.”

“I don’t think the sheriff will answer our questions so easily now,” Len said.

“We aren’t going to ask him,” I said, rubbing at my chin. “We’ll find another way. We don’t have enough to say exactly who touched these.”

She continued on the floor, barely making a sound. If not for me periodically glancing up to check on her, I wouldn’t even know she was there. Every time her hand moved to her necklace, I caught the movement. Seeing her instinctively touch it hurt no less each time. She hadn’t taken it off since the dinner. A lump formed in my throat, knowing what I had to ask her.

It wasn’t fair, but we were running out of leads. She’d already been through so much pain, and I knew this would only drag up more.

I wouldn’t ask if you weren’t my only option.

I kept reminding myself over and over, working up the courage. It had been days since her brother‘s dinner, and I had to stop treating her like she was a ticking time bomb, give her more credit than that.

“Why are you giving me that look?” she asked.

“What?” I answered, taken aback.

She raised a brow and bit the inside of her cheek. “The one where you watch me like one of your puzzles to solve. It’s hard to work when I feel you watching my every move.”

Fair point.

“I think I know where to start.”

Something lit up in her eyes for the first time in days. It was the first sign of emotion I’d seen, beyond just complete sadness consuming her.Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

“I think it’s time I interview you,” I suggested.

I saw the way her eyes widened, and she started to pull her limbs in, closing herself off from me without even realizing.The signs were all there.

“I already told you, I don’t remember,” she said softly.

I could see I was losing her. She was shrinking into herself. I slid out of the armchair onto the floor, only a foot from her, on her level.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it was our only lead to start with,” I said.

“But we have this,” she said, motioning to the papers around her.

“We need more,” I sighed. “The first lesson I teach trainees is that you can’t look at things so narrow minded. You have to look at all the facts.”

“I can’t-” she started.

“I promise, I will not let anything hurt you,” I said. “We need this.”

We, because we were a team. As much as I hated to admit it, Len had become my partner in a matter of weeks. I swore I’d never work with someone again, let alone work in the field. Somehow, Len was slowly repairing the bullet-sized hole inside me.

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

A simple question, but there was more to it. I could see her unraveling the layers of my question, her lips pulling in how they did whenever she concentrated.

“I do,” she whispered.

* * *

“What do you have for me, Mags?” I asked, answering the phone.

“Sorry it took so long, but I have the information about the bar you asked about.”

“No worries. I appreciate you helping with this. I know you have a lot on your plate otherwise.”

I could almost feel her smiling through the phone.

“It has minimal employees, fewer than twenty. It’s owned by Bobby Evans, has been for fifteen years. I’m emailing you a list of the employees and more information about them all, including any records,” she said.

“Thank you, Mags,” I said.

“And Stone?” she added.

“Yes?”

“I also had a chance to look at that footage you sent.”

My heart raced. I hadn’t expected her to have news on that yet. “Were you able to make out the keychain?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve sent you blown up screenshot that’s been clarified too. It’s a tag, a label for keys.”

I pulled open my laptop as I paced back-and-forth in the dining room. Len was still upstairs, getting ready for the day. She’d finally accepted the inevitable fact that I had to interview her after I asked her only two days prior.

My email popped up right away, and I saw the attachment from Mags. I opened it before she said another word.

The tag was easy to read after Mags worked on it, and I could make out the three words.

High Tide Pub.

Len came down shortly after my call with Mags, and we decided to walk the distance to the pub.I’d be trying to cover two leads in one visit. We originally planned to start at the pub during the day to walk through the night Len was attacked. It was the best way I could think of to compromise with her.

Len joined me in walking down the path into town. We walked down a lane of fully bloomed daisies. The daisies that had been sitting on my counter must have come from this small garden of them.

The walk down the path took approximately five minutes, and I had mapped out the rest of the way to the pub. It was located central in the town, an easy walking distance for both tourists and locals.

“Have you been back since?” I asked.I groaned internally, an obvious answer. Why was I so oblivious to other’s feelings sometimes?

Len shook her head. “I haven’t been able to step foot inside that place since that day.”

I wasn’t shocked. Most victims with PTSD avoided triggers. Going back to the place where it all started, there was no doubt in my mind that would resurface painful memories for her.

“Why is it you came alone? If we are asking questions here,” she asked, “don’t you have a partner or someone at the FBI looking for you?”

I hesitated. She’d find out at some point. “This isn’t exactly a sanctioned FBI case.”

“Excuse me?” She stopped walking.

“Didn’t I tell you this,” I asked, rubbing my hand behind my head.

I didn’t. I’d been tip toeing around the truth. I never lied to Len, but I wasn’t exactly forthcoming in all the details of my trip. I never thought it’d get this far with her.

“No, you certainly left that portion out,” she muttered.

“Well, no one is looking for me here, let’s just say that,” I offered, hoping she would drop the subject.

“But don’t most agents have a partner, or even a team?” she asked instead.

“You’ve been watching far too many crime shows,” I chuckled.

“You sound like Mal,” she dismissed and gently nudged me with her shoulder.

“I used to have a partner,” I started. Was I really going to go down this road? I never talked about Blythe to anyone—not Grey, nor the therapist he referred me to.

“You used to?” Len asked, picking up on the word choice as fast as I’d expected.

Clever girl. Her quick brilliance never failed.

“She died,” I started. I wasn’t sure if I could go further.

I took a deep breath, ready to try and share what I could, but I was interrupted.

“What’s happening?” Len asked, and I followed her gaze to the giant crowd of people ahead.

I spotted the caution tape before she did and tucked her into my side instinctively. Crime rates were lower than most cities and towns in the entire country in Briarport. The worst this town had seen was petty theft or a bar fight until the Coastal Killer. That peace had returned the moment the serial killer disappeared.

I knew the pub wasn’t far. This was the road it was on, so we’d have to pass whatever the commotion ahead was.I prepared myself for the worst, ready to protect Len.

We approached the crowd, and I could hear the whispers. Len’s muscles tensed against my body as my arm remained firmly wrapped around her shoulders.

Two words were whispered over and over.

Coastal Killer.

I pushed her to the front, trying to get a look. It was hard to see through the massive amount of people, drawn in by the crowd. My arm dropped from around Len, but I managed to still guide her through.

I spotted the body bag before anything else. It was unzipped on the ground, a tarp covered mass beside it. I swallowed hard when I saw the manicured hand poking out from under it, covered in blood, dry and caked to the skin. I noticed the red nail polish underneath the blood. My mind tried to block out the image of what I assumed was underneath the tarp: a body brutally torn apart.

I noticed the sheriff nearby, and as his gaze caught mine, he came storming over to where we stood behind the caution tape.

“This is your fault,” he hissed.

I felt Len trembling beside me at the sight of a covered body. I had to get her out of there. I knew they’d attempt to move the victim into the body bag to transport them to the morgue as fast as possible. I wouldn’t let her see that. The growing crowd posed their only problem, but eventually they’d be forced to do it.

“Was there a ring?” I asked, ignoring the sheriff’s outburst.

“What?” he stuttered.

“Was there a ring?” I repeated, slow and clear.

He paused for a moment and glanced back to where his deputies puttered around the scene. He turned back and nodded, careful not to answer out loud and draw attention. He’d only confirm what the people already whispered.

“They cut the ring finger clean off. We can’t find it,” he said quietly.

This was already growing out of my hands; the unsub had escalated. The killing turned it back into an active FBI case. The bureau would be alerted and arrive soon. I cursed under my breath, knowing what this meant.

My bargained time was over.

I smiled tightly. We had to get away from here.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you more,” the sheriff scoffed.

“I look forward to working with you,” I said through gritted teeth.

There was no escaping it: the FBI would be forced to work beside him—if Grey didn’t throw me off the case the moment he realized what I did.

I turned away from the scene; there was nothing more we could do there. We had to get to the pub and figure out what Len remembered. That was the priority now.

I thought we were almost in the clear until I heard Len‘s name called out behind us.

“Len!” Mallory shouted, pushing through the crowd.

Great . I turned to find her friend following after her.

“Oh goodness, you’re alright,” she said and threw her arms around her. “They won’t tell anyone who’s under that tarp, and I haven’t seen you at the apartment in a bit, so of course, I assumed the worst.”

Not a single tear shed, I noted.I watched the way she feigned sadness and worry. That woman was truly incapable of caring about anyone other than herself.

“I’m alright,” Len said with a shaky breath.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“I-“ Len started. “I’ve been staying with Stone.”

Mallory’s eyes fell on me, pure hatred in them. “Why don’t you come stay with me?” Mallory asked.

“I’m just staying with him until things are safer. That threat really just got to my head. Besides, you live in the same building.”

Mallory did not seem to like that answer.It felt like I was watching a cartoon, steam pouring out of her nostrils, anger seeping from her.

“We should really go,” I said, and Len nodded firmly.

I glanced back to the scene and found the sheriff watching us intensely. Len‘s eyes followed mine, and I watched the way she stiffened again. Mal seem to pick up on it too.

“I don’t know who put him in charge of anything,” she scoffed.

Finally, something we agreed on.

“Do you know him?” I asked. He was my best leading suspect.

“I mean, he’s sheriff, so most people in town do,” she said. “Plus, he’s also a piece of shit.”

I held back a chuckle that almost escaped my lips. There was no way I was bonding with Len’s narcissistic friend over this.

“His son is a total creep, and the sheriff covers for him,” Mallory said. “Didn’t your brother know him?” Mal looked to Len.

“Chris, right? I think he may have,” Len answered slowly.

Another potential lead I noted in my head.

“Anyway, I have to go back to the shop. With all these tourists pouring into the streets, they’re bound to seek refuge from the heat eventually,” she said, turning and bounding off down the road.

“Are you ready?” I asked, taking one last look at where the new victim was.

“Let’s go,” she said and started walking off in the direction of the pub.