Page 18

18

STONE

I should’ve known I wouldn’t be so lucky to find myself alone with Len. Instead, Mal bounced next to her friend, trailing along with us. We’d walked halfway to the pub before bumping into her.

The streets were packed with tourists, and we pushed through the crowds on the sidewalk. There were too many people surrounding us for comfort, but there was not much I could do to change it.

The texts she received told me the unsub was becoming bolder. They were fixated on her, as their victim who got away, and that fact alone had me on edge. I knew how dangerous an obsession like that could become.

“Why are you going to High Tide?” Mal asked.

“For drinks,” Len answered quickly, keeping her answer short and simple.

That was my girl. A natural.

Thoughts like that were dangerous. I had limited time left, especially with the case becoming active once more. I’d be leaving for Quantico before I knew it.

“I thought you loved this place,” Len said to her friend.

“I do, but it doesn’t seem like your scene. You always refuse to come with me,” Mallory said, casting me a look of pure hatred and jealousy.

“Well, I changed my mind.” Len shrugged. “I heard they have great margaritas, so I told Stone we had to come check it out while he was still in town. It felt like a tourist staple he couldn’t miss.”

“It is always packed with tourists,” Mallory agreed. “We could come back for your birthday!”

“Birthday?” I cut in.

“In a few days,” Mallory answered, rolling her eyes. “You know nothing about her, do you?”

So blunt. I held back the frustrated grumble threatening to tumble out. Mallory was insufferable no matter how much I tried to like her for Len’s sake.

“On Saturday,” Len interrupted, diffusing the situation.

It bothered me that I didn’t know when Len‘s birthday was, though I never thought to ask. I didn’t think I’d be sticking around long enough to celebrate it. Mallory had a look of victory on her face that she knew something I didn’t, like she was slowly winning her best friend back. It wasn’t a contest, but somehow, I found myself in the middle of a competition.

I needed to find a gift and put something together for Len. My mind was distracted, brainstorming ideas; I didn’t even realize we made it to the pub. We walked inside, and immediately, Len froze.

Gently, I took her hand and led her further toward a table so she could sit and I could find her awater. Mal caught sight of the movement and scowled in my direction. She linked her arm through Len’s other one and dragged her off to a booth away from me.

As she passed the bar, she said, “two margaritas,” then continued toward the open seats.

The woman behind it tilted her head at me, as if she expected me to bark an order at her as well. Instead, I opened my wallet, grabbed a few bills, and placed them on the counter.

“That’s for theirs, and I’ll just take a water, please,” I said with a smile.

Her features softened, and she smiled back. “I’ll bring them over to the table.”

I met Lenny and Mal at the booth and sat across from them. I knew we wouldn’t be able to talk freely about the case, not with Len’s best friend joining us.

I needed to ask for the owner, find out if they still had the footage from the night Len was attacked. With the new knowledge that she remembered the bus boy and the fact that we knew she was drugged, there had to be something in that footage. Whoever drugged her most likely was whoever tried to kill her. It was our best lead.

“I really think you should move home,” Mal said to Len, breaking the silence.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said sheepishly.

“Why not? Stay with me, safety in numbers. Besides, it was probably a prank.”

“Some small prank doesn’t involve threats being left at her door before a body is found in the middle of town,” I grumbled under my breath.

“I never asked you,” Mal said.

The waitress brought over our drinks, and Mallory forced Len to cheers before downing her margarita faster than I’d ever seen someone drink one. I was mildly impressed.

Tequila was never my choice of alcohol those long days I drank myself into oblivion, but I could appreciate a good margarita.

“What are you drinking?” Mal asked,scowling at my cup of water.

“Just water for me,” I said.

“No fun,” Mal pouted immediately.

“Someone has to stay sober to make the decisions around here,” I said with a shrug.

Mallory did not like that. Instead, she turned her body completely sideways, trying to block me out of the conversation. They caught up on life, and Mallory droned on and on about the tourists. I’d never met someone so judgmental in my life.

It wasn’t long before I found myself rolling my eyes, barely able to take her repetitive stories all about herself. It could keep her busy enough not to notice where I went. A perfect distraction.

“Excuse me. I am going to use the bathroom,” I said.

I headed for the sign to the restroom right past the bar. I paused at the counter, trying to catch the waitress behind it. She saw me and hurried right over.

I pulled out my wallet again and showed her my badge. In a low tone, I asked, “Is the owner here?”

She nodded, understanding I was trying not to cause a scene, likely not wanting that for the bar either.

“He lives above it, so he’s practically always in,” she whispered. “I’ll go grab him.”

I waited for a few minutes and realized I was just out of sight of the booth Len and Mal sat in, so she wouldn’t see me talking to the owner.

I didn’t trust Len’s friend, and I certainly didn’t trust her all-too-eager mouth not to gossip about what we were looking into.

The woman reappeared, this time with a man beside her. He hurried over and reached out a hand to shake to mine.

“Bob,” he introduced.

“Agent Beck,” I said. “I just had a quick question for you. Given the recent killing nearby, the FBI is looking into an old case.”

“The Coastal Killer,” Bob guessed.

I nodded.“I was hoping you could help me.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

His willingness to help and most of his demeanor and nature did not fit the profile we’d been building. He was not clear completely, but I did eliminate him from the list of my most considered suspects. Being the owner of the bar had landed him on the list, but he was being helpful. He didn’t seem to have any distaste toward law enforcement. In fact, he was more respectful than most people I interviewed on the job.

“I was hoping you might still have footage from three years ago. We have new reason to suspect Jane Doe, who survived, visited here the night she was attacked.”

“Did you find Jane Doe? Did she come forward?”

I’m sure it was the question most people in town had three years ago when Jane Doe disappeared. With the return of the unsub, people around Briarport would be praying for any speck of hope.

“No,” I said. “It’s just a potential lead we’re tracking down. We don’t have concrete evidence. That’s why I came to you for the footage. I’m hoping that maybe, we can recognize her on it.”

“I wish I could help,” Bob said. “But I turned over all that footage to the FBI three years ago, and unfortunately, my system doesn’t save things beyond a year.”

I sighed. It wasn’t unexpected. A place like this, I couldn’t imagine it having a complex security system, but it was worth asking.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll let you know if we have any further questions.”

Before I turned, I noticed the same bus boy watching us all too interested from the other end of the bar.

“Actually,” I said, catching Bob before he walked away, “has he worked here long?” I asked, nodding at the bus boy.

“Ethan? He’s is one of my longest employees.”

I swallowed hard.He would’ve been there three years ago, like Len said, and worked through every single one of the killings. He was quickly rising in my list of suspects.

“Have you ever had any problems with him?” I asked.

“No, Ethan keeps his head down and does his job cleaning up the dishes and transporting items here from our warehouse. Sure, we’ve had a few complaints. Not everybody appreciates his direct tone, but he keeps mainly to himself,” Bob explained.

“What type of complaints?” I asked.

“You can’t think-” Bob started.

“What type of complaints?” I repeated, keeping my voice low.

Bob looked back to where Ethan was, but he’d already disappeared back to the kitchen. “Men complained they didn’t like how he spoke to their girlfriends. A woman here and there was upset when he cut them off or asked them to leave.”

“Is that part of his job?”

“No, but it does help me from time to time. He knows when someone’s had too much, and we usually cut them off or kick them out before they cause trouble. Nobody likes to be told they’ve had one too many, and even worse—no man wants to see someone correcting the woman they came with. He means well; he just comes off wrong,” Bob tried to explain.

He sought more control than he had, found a way to get himself more power at the job.

“Does he do it to men?”

“I’m sure he has,” Bob answered.

“But have you seen it? Can you definitely tell me he does it to men as well?” I pushed.

Bob paused and shook his head.

A clear dislike toward women mixed with seeking out that type of power—he was starting to find himself at the top of my list. A narcissist who thought himself more important than others. A dislike for women. The pieces were starting to fit. I just didn’t have them all figured out, certainly not enough to bring to the FBI and make an arrest.

I knew what I had to do next. We needed to confirm it was Ethan who snuck those drugs in Len’s drink.

“Thank you,” I told Bob. “Truly.”

He nodded and left while I went back to the booth with Len and Mal.

“That was the longest bathroom break ever,” Mallory said dramatically.

Len used her elbow to nudge her friend. “Don’t be rude,” she scolded.

The two let out a giggle. I’d been gone no more than fifteen minutes, and already, I found them on their second margaritas.

“Miranda?” the waitress said and held out another drink.

“It’s Mallory,” Len’s friend snapped, annoyed.

“Sorry, I got mixed up, but you ordered another margarita, correct?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s mine,” she said and snatched the glass from the woman.

“Thank you,” Len said to the waitress, who turned red.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she answered and turned, hurrying off.

I smiled at Len, trying not to give anything away while we continued our drinks at the pub.

* * *

Hours passed and Len stared at the wall where we’d updated our information. It’d been like this since we returned from the pub. Eventually, she and Mallory tired of the place and parted ways, much to my satisfaction.

Len continued to look at the two pictures we’d hung of our most likely suspects. Visualizing it all helped me build the pieces of the case and see things from a bigger picture, even if it was cliché.

The sheriff and Ethan’s photos hung side by side, the best leads we had.

I knew what I had to do next, but I dreaded it. The moment the FBI arrived, I’d have to turn over what I’d found so they could look over that security footage. Asking Mags now was too risky. It was an active case, and if she found anything, it would raise too many questions that could reflect on her reputation. I wasn’t willing to do that to her.

Instead, I’d wait.

“I don’t see it,” Len said suddenly.

“That sounds like the margarita talking,” I teased, but Lenny scowled back at me.

“I only had two. Mal was the one who left tipsy.”

“For that, we are lucky, or she may have never agreed to let you come back with me,” I answered.

Len chuckled.“Thank you. For letting her come along. It was nice to feel normal, even if just for an hour.”

I pulled a chair from the dining room table to sit next to her.“What are you trying to see?”

“How it all connects. How do you know it could be them?” she asked.

“I’m building the profile piece by piece. That’s what all of this is,” I said, motioning to the wall.

“How?” she repeated.

“I’ll show you,” I said, taking her hand and helping her up.

I walked her over to the start of the wall, where we hung the photos of the victims.

“What are the two things investigators found to be common amongst them?” I asked.

I sound like such a teacher. Maybe the academy had become a bigger part of me than I thought.

“The pub,” Len guessed.

“And?”

She stared at the photos of each victim before shaking her head.

“There’s nothing else connecting them,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

She glanced back to the board, following my line of thought, noticing the purposeful way I’d arranged everything.

“The rings,” she answered, glancing to me for approval.

I nodded.“Those two connections give us a lot more information than it may seem. The pub tells us the unsub has a hunting ground, a place where they feel comfortable enough to stalk their victims and pick them out. It will be someone who frequents the pub; it also tells us the likelihood of it being a tourist is much lower.”

“So it’s someone who lives here year round and is familiar with the town,” Len said, nodding along.

“Exactly, although that still leaves a whole pool of people, so we need more,” I said. “That’s where the ring comes in. It’s their MO, a piece of every single killing. The ring tells us about the demographic of the victims but also about the unsub.”

“How?” Lenny asked.

“The ring symbolizes commitment, a relationship. This tells us the unsub is targeting women they’ve identified as in relationships. It helps us build victimology which is a key piece to the profile. The aggressive and hateful nature of taking the ring off the victim and shoving it down their throat tells us the unsub feels some type of resentment toward those in happy relationships,” I explained.

“So they were probably hurt at some point in a relationship?” Len asked.

I had her full attention.

“It’s highly likely a woman left them or broke their heart. I would be willing to guess the unsub was engaged or in a serious relationship with a woman that ended poorly,” I answered.

There were other possibilities, but this was the one that fit the case the best. I always considered all my options, though.

“Of course, there is also the chance something else triggered them. They could have grown up in a household with an unhealthy relationship. Maybe they witnessed their mother being unfaithful. This is why we don’t rely solely on the profile to make an arrest.”

“I think I get it now,” Len said.

I moved down the wall to other pieces of evidence we’d hung.“You confirmed the theory that the unsub targets those in relationships. You were with Jake that night, you were engaged, the unsub likely saw the pair of you at the bar,” I explained and pointed to the question mark we’d hung to represent Jane Doe, or Len.

“And now, you also know about the drugging,” Len pointed out.

I could see the excitement on her face. She moved along the wall with me, her mind starting to piece together exactly what I saw.

“Which tells us the unsub needs the victims weakened. It could be because they hunt in such a populated area, but it could also mean they’re impaired in some capacity. It also tells us they like the rush of power. I wouldn’t be surprised if they carried this over to their work, put themselves in positions of power in their daily life.”

“I think I’m starting to see what you mean,” Len said, leaning against me as I stopped moving down the wall. “Each of these is like a puzzle piece. We just need to figure out how it all fits, right?”

I nodded.“The sheriff and Ethan from the pub fit the profile we’ve built so far the best, but we don’t want to blind ourselves from other options, since we don’t have all the pieces yet. That’s why we are considering multiple people,” I said, waving at where I’d hung them.

“So you’re pretty much saying we have everything and nothing all at once,” she sighed.

“I’m saying we have a hell of a start, and with you by my side, there is no doubt in my mind we will figure this all out.”

* * *

Blood pooled on the floor around me, the same scene every single time. I held Blythe in my arms and watched the life drain from her. There was nothing I could do but watch in horror as she took her last breath. The red around us grew until it was the only thing that filled my vision.

Red.

The floor around me was a pool of it. My hands and arms were covered. My breathing became shaky at the sight.

“Please,” I begged.

I was trapped in my own horrible nightmare. I couldn’t escape the mistakes of my past.

Red continued to grow.

The little girl I saved stood close behind me, her tiny hand on my shoulder.

“Go find help,” I instructed her, just as I had every single time I lived this nightmare.

The moment she sprinted off, I called out, hoping anyone would find us before it was too late. In my heart, I knew she was beyond help, but I continued to scream.

Arms pulled me into someone’s grasp. I fought against it until I heard her voice.

“Stone,” Len said frantically. “Stone, wake up! It’s a dream. Wake up.”

The desperation in her words snapped me out of it. I sat up and opened my eyes, finding her watching me. Her brows furrowed, her hands shaking on my shoulders. She pulled them back quickly.

I caught a glance at the clock hanging on the wall—10:00pm, which meant I hadn’t been asleep long. We’d spent the rest of the day looking over the case details until our eyes were heavy with sleep.

“I’m sorry. I heard you yelling. I thought something was wrong…”She slid back from the couch, ready to return to her room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I apologized.

“What were you dreaming of ?” she asked gently.

I took a deep breath. She already knew everything, the whole story. What harm would telling her this do?

“I have nightmares about Blythe and everything that happened,” I admitted.

She didn’t look shocked, nor did herfeatures slip into judgment. Instead, I found understanding.

“I have them too,” she said softly. “About my attack.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing the pain and horror of the nightmares that plagued me nightly.

She shook her head.“You shouldn’t be alone down here,” she said, her brows bunching. “Being alone is the worst part. I’ve spent three years plagued by the nightmares, trust me. Just come up to bed with me. It’s yours anyway,” Len finished quietly.

I hesitated, knowing that if I took this, everything would change. I’d be giving in to every emotion I was ignoring, the entire reason I’d allowed her to help me with this case in the first place. Something I’d never experienced before her.

“Okay,” I said gently.

A smile spread across her face, and she stood, heading for the stairs.

It was just the nightmares. This was to help them, a purely selfish reason. Nothing beyond that. I couldn’t let myself feel more than that, could I? How could I keep Len safe if I let myself feel too much?

I walked up the stairs behind her, my head racing. No matter how much I wanted to run back down them, I couldn’t my mind needed this.

I needed this.

I needed just one night of sound sleep, no nightmares plaguing me. That was all.

I found myself back in the room I had given up earlier for Len. Her stuff was sprawled in the corner, but otherwise, it remained as I left it.

She climbed back under the covers and left enough room for me to join. Slowly, I followed behind her, hesitant to cross any boundaries.

You’re already well past boundaries.

Grey would not see this as acceptable if he found out.

Merely inches from each other, I could feel the warmth of her body. I held my breath, afraid to even move. Already, I could feel the tension leaving me, forgetting about the nightmares that consumed me. Len’s presence was comforting, and somehow, I felt safer around her.

You still barely know her.

Yet, it felt like I’d known her a lifetime.

Enough to make me question everything enough to drive any man to insanity. Maybe that was what this was: my mind finally turning on me, driving me slowly to madness. I knew everything about this was wrong, to be involved with someone so wrapped up in the case. It broke just about every rule, but I couldn’t help it.

“Hold me,” she said so softly, I thought I misheard.

“What?”

“Can you hold me? It helps knowing you’re there.”

I knew what she meant, just like my body craved her and knew it needed her to feel safe.

I moved closer, my arms wrapping around her, pulling her against my body. Everything in me should hate this, should know that this was wrong; instead, I felt peace from the nightmares. She relaxed in my arms, and her breathing became heavier. With each deep breath I took, I found myself inhaling the scent of sea salt and sage.

Not once did the nightmares come back for me.

* * *

My phone buzzed the next morning, Mags’ name flashing on the screen

“Hello?” I sleepily answered, crawling out of the bed before Len could wake.

“Stone?” she answered.

“What’s wrong, Mags?” I asked, getting worried.I hurried into the hall, away from Len.

“They’re on their way,” she warned.

“What? Who?” I asked.

“Agent Grey and the rest of the team. They got the call about the latest Coastal Killer victim and are heading there today,” Mags said, her voice steady. “Grey wanted me to call you.”

“Does he know I’m here?” I asked quickly, my heart dropping.

If he was on his way, the second he realized I’d been here, Grey would send me back to Quantico. He told me to leave this case alone, and I didn’t listen.

“No,” Mags said. “That’s part of why I ‘m calling. He wanted me to inform you they were heading to Briarport…”Her voice trailed off at the end.

“What is it, Mags?”

“He wants you to join them. He thinks it’s time you finally got back into the field,” she answered.

Oh, I was in so much more trouble than I originally calculated.