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23

THE PATTERN

DIYA

T he pattern.

Something that defied logic.

Even the smartest of killers had a pattern. If there hadn’t been these hidden threads connecting their kills, most serial killers would have never been caught.

The randomness would have shielded them, faceless and forgotten. But patterns always had a way of surfacing, no matter how deeply they were buried.

“Hollow Heights has a serial killer—a serial rapist—and he’s been doing this for over fifteen years.”

He would have killed more, after Millie, before Riley. If not in Hollow Heights, somewhere else.

“More than fifteen years,” Asher said, horrified. “Jesus.”

“We need to track down the other girls who were in the asylum, before and after Riley. If he used them the same way, then he’s somehow found the perfect cover for his crimes. And… he’s not like other serial killers.”

“What do you mean?” Asher asked as we walked toward the closed door.

“He doesn’t just kill,” I whispered. “He manipulates. Hunts. Break them down until… they take their own lives.

Asher’s eyes darkened.

“The death toll’s still his, but it’s not the act of killing that drives him. It’s the hunt. The control. The power to strip someone of their will to live. That’s what he craves. The thrill of playing God,” I said.

Once he was done with them, when they were already shattered… he hit the final nail in the coffin.

“A serial killer who didn’t kill?” Asher frowned.

I nodded. “A serial killer who pitted the monsters in these girls’ heads against them, the monsters he created.”

As a psychiatrist, I had met many who were sick in the head. I had studied the fractured minds of the psychopaths and dissected their obsessions and hunger.

But as a killer, I understood the sickness.

Some carried their sickness visibly. Some wore masks of civility, hiding it under their skin until it came roaring out.

“You sound like you have met…”

“I know him. I know how he thinks, how he feels.”

“Because you’re a psychiatrist.”

“Because I’m someone like him.”

“You aren’t, Diya,” Asher said, eyes burning bright. Sometimes it was too easy to get lost in those eyes.

“I am, and it’s okay. I’m not ashamed.”

This world was full of people who carried carcasses of cruel creatures in their souls and they weren’t going to simply disappear. I made it my job to make them disappear. It made me feel good, powerful.

“You shouldn’t be,” he said, cupping my face in. “You’re perfect just the way you are, Diya Sharma, and I am…” He trailed off, once again, not finishing his thoughts. “So, how are we going to find this fucker?”

“We follow the trail, just as you’ve been doing.”

“Could he be a pedo?”

“I don’t know. Millie… if she was the first victim, was sixteen, but Riley was twenty,” I said, pursing my lips. “Perhaps, he just grew up.”

“He started killing when he was young?”

“Maybe.”

“But could he be that smart to hide everything?” He looked at me, and he must have seen the truth in my eyes. His eyes turned dark as he leaned closer, and took my hand in his. “You did. How old were you when you first killed?”

“Fourteen,” I whispered. Only Layne and Trina knew my truth. And now here he was.

“Oh God, Diya. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pulling me closer to his body in an embrace that was too weird on my skin. His hand ran up and down my back, and I felt something. It wasn’t lust. It was comfort, and that was odd. I didn’t mind kissing him, I didn’t mind crawling to him, but this…

I quickly pulled away.

“No, I did what I did to survive.”

The way Max’s breath smelled… the way he would curse at me…

He’s fucking dead. HE IS DEAD.

I repeated it inside my head over and over until the panic slowly went away, and I realized I was once again buried inside the warmth of Asher’s chest. This time I didn’t, couldn’t, pull away. It had been so long since someone had comforted me, since I had let someone comfort me.

“If you hadn’t killed him already, Diya…” He kissed my head. “I would have found him and flayed him for you. I would’ve brought him before you and…”

“Like a mating gift?” I chuckled. “You know, there’s this species of spiders… Pisaura mirabilis, they catch their prey, wrap it in their web, and bring them to the females as a mating gift.”

“Why the fuck do you know that?”

“It’s fascinating.” I shrugged, and he laughed.

“Everything I learn about you makes me want to know more,” he said, his voice tender as he picked the lock.

He walked in first, motioning me to wait. After a few seconds, I followedhim. The cottage was barely furnished. The closet stood empty, except the one which was filled with cleaning supplies.

Bleach. Hydrogen peroxide. Ammonia. Something that could clean the traces of blood and semen.

I quickly scanned the room, trying to find any trace of blood. He might not have killed them, but if he brought the girls here, there must be some evidence. Something. Anything. He survived only because no one doubted him, no one knew he existed, except those men who helped him, but even they didn’t know him.

He used their sins to keep himself hidden.

“I’ll look for blood,” Asher said, leaving me alone. I pulled open the drawers one by one, but they were all empty.

“Do you have any idea who this place belongs to?” I asked as Asher rolled the old rug to reveal a wooden floor.

“I don’t know, but if he’s this smart, he wouldn’t be using something that belongs to him or his family.”

“Yes, but the person who owns this place might be another link in the long chain.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling the cover from a small mattress on the floor.

“I think Vincent can find who this place belongs to.”

“You know he’ll want something in return for that help,” he said.

Smiling, I shook my head.

“From the way you growl every time Vincent is mentioned, anyone would believe you’re a fucking wolf who’s protecting his territory. Would you pee around me too?”

“I’m protecting my territory,” he said, his eyes daring me. “And I’d pee around you. I’d mark every inch of your skin with my cum, if I had to.”

“Oh, shut up, Ash,” I said, feeling a strange flutter in my chest. Oh, fuck, this wasn’t romantic at all, and yet the need to slam him against the wall and let him come all over me was staggering. “I’m not impressed.”

“I see the lies in your eyes, Sharma,” he whispered.

I pulled away from him, glaring at him. “Stop. We’re here on business.”

I walked into the small bedroom with a single cot. It was the only furniture in this cabin.

“There… is that blood? The right wall.” Asher pointed to the small brown stain.

No one would have even noticed it or thought it was blood if they weren’t looking for it.

“Maybe, but I don’t know. He was too careful.”

“If it’s blood, is it possible to find DNA from this?”

“It might not be usable. Layne knows someone who works in a lab. I’ll send it to him. He’s besotted with her.”

He’d kill for her, and she had killed his stepdad, who molested him when he was young.

“When will we get the results?” Asher asked, shifting from foot to foot.

“It might take a few days. I have to mail it to New York.”

We searched the room again before walking to the kitchen.

“Didn’t Riley write about some kind of tea?” I asked, pulling open the kitchen closets. Once again, they were all empty. He was so fucking good at this.

“Diya, take a look at this,” he said, pointing to the wooden floor. There was a spot of white in the brown wooden floorboards.

I bent down and took the scalpel from inside the bag. I scratched the powder from the floor.

“We’ll send it too,” I said, zipping the plastic bag closed. We checked the whole cabin once again, just to be sure, but there was nothing else.

“Let’s go.”

Asher rubbed his finger against his forehead. “I feel like he might slip past us before we get closer.”

“We won’t let him. No one even knew he existed. We know now. We’ll stop him. We have to.”

I was thinking of Millie when we drove back, thinking of all the girls who came after her, before Riley.

“Can we eat something before we go back?” Asher asked, looking at me with tired eyes. “Mia’s Gravy. I’m craving something greasy.”

“Okay,” I said, swerving around, and heading toward the diner.

“We should look into the girls who committed suicide after Millie. Might give us a lead,” Asher said after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah,” I said, parking the car in front of Mia’s Gravy.

The solemn look in his eyes was immediately replaced by eagerness. He looked excited to be here. This must be his first time back in a long while. He stepped out, eyes flickering from side to side, taking everything in.

“I used to come here all the time with Riley and…” He trailed off. “She loved their fries. We always sat in the same booth. She’d play ‘Sweet Caroline’ every single time.” He closed his eyes, his smile breaking at the edges.

People turned to look at us as soon as we walked in. When they saw Asher, they waved, smiling.

“Asher? How are you, boy?” A woman asked, looking at him. Asher stayed silent.

“Oh, he isn’t really…” I looked at Asher, and he gave me a nod. “I’m his doctor. This is a part of his treatment.”

“Treatment?” a woman asked, looking at Asher. “We went to school together.” She gave him a half smile, eyes wistful.

The place wasn’t crowded. A few booths sat empty, scattered along the row. But Asher walked straight to the very last one.

“She has a crush on you,” I whispered when we sat down. Asher glared at me, grabbing a menu from the table that was stained with red ketchup. “What? I’m not lying. She wants to sleep with you.”

“I don’t want to sleep with her,” he said, staring straight at me. “I only want to fuck you.”

“Be still my heart. This man… such a romantic,” I scoffed, opening the menu. “What do you want to eat?”

“Burger,” he said. “And fries, and you. Always you.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed.

When the waitress came, I ordered two burgers, fries, and milkshakes. Ten minutes later, our food came.

Asher grabbed the ketchup bottle and squeezed half of it onto his fries.

“Oh, you’re that guy,” I said, dipping my fries into the mound of ketchup on his plate.

“And you’re that girl,” he replied with a grin, gesturing toward my fries.

“Yes. You know, that’s how ketchup is meant to be used. It’s to dip, not to drown.”

“Agree to disagree,” he said, raising his hand.

The waitress cleared our table when we finished our burgers and fries, before bringing the milkshakes topped with whipped cream. I took a sip of the shake and groaned.

“If you groan like that, I might lose control and—” Asher licked his lips, staring at my mouth. “You look just as gorgeous sucking a straw as you did sucking my cock.”

I jerked back, spluttering and coughing.

“You’re fucking impudent.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” I said, swirling my tongue around the straw.

“I want that pretty mouth on my cock, Poison. I want it now,” he growled. “My God, you’re a fucking temptation.”

“Later.”

“I… can’t.” He slid his toe up my leg, softly teasing my skin.

“What are you…”

“Are you wearing underwear?” he asked, eyes burning against mine. The sparkling green had gone darker, and the wild look of hunger in his eyes made my insides tremble.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Remove it,” he said, never looking away. The order in his eyes was clear.

“Fuck no.”

“Remove it, Diya. Let me feel you now. I have to.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, but I feel like I’d go mad if I didn’t touch you right now.”

Moaning, I stood up from the table. Asking for the restroom, I walked in, and quickly locked the door. Cursing myself and him, I removed my panties, shoving them inside my handbag before I walked out.

He had moved over from where he was sitting and now on my side. He scooted down as I walked back over and took a seat.

He placed a hand on my leg. “Is your pussy bare now?”

I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. What the fuck was he doing to me? Sex never made me compliant, but with Asher, it was becoming way more than I could handle.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered as he greedily slurped his milkshake before his hands crawled up my thighs. I shuddered, pressing my lips together, refusing to let loose a long moan. “Now, open your legs for me, my pretty poison.”

Gulping, I pulled my legs apart. His fingers slid into my pussy without hesitation. “Already so fucking wet. Want to squirt for me?”

I shook my head. “No. Fuck. You’re mad.”

“Well, you don’t have any choice. When I say squirt, you’re only allowed to ask how much…” He pulled out his fingers from inside me before pushing it back in. My legs trembled from the weight of pleasure. My skin blazed. “As long and as much as I want,” he said, flicking his thumb against my clit.

“B-but, what if someone…”

His eyes gleamed. There was no worry in them, only lust. He wouldn’t care if someone walked by us, and caught him fingering me. Oh no. He didn’t look a bit worried by that.

“Someone catches me finger fucking you? They won’t, but if they do, they’ll know who you belong to.”

“I belong to no one.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “Now, I’m going to put two fingers inside you, and then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t control yourself, until your throat goes dry from screaming.”

“Fuck no. Ash, I can’t scream here. That would be…”

“That seems like a you problem.”

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

“You won’t.”

And then he was pushing his fingers in and out, in and out, in a slow rhythm, like he was dancing to music in his head. Every now and then, his thumb would caress my clit, roll it, flick it. His fingers never stopped moving, and then I felt them curling inside me, and I trembled.

He pushed his left hand against my mouth as his fingers continued to perform complex magic. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught, or it was the thrill of his fingers. My screams died beneath his hand as I came. Hard.

A wet trail of cum moved along my leg, staining my dress. Asher smiled, satisfied, before he sucked his finger, tasting me on his tongue.

“One taste of you is enough to make a man go raving mad, Diya Sharma. I need you as I have never needed anything in my life.” His eyes were sincere, and my heart skipped a beat.

I stayed silent when he stood up. “I’ll be back,” he said, walking toward the restroom, leaving me staring at him, wondering what was going through his head right now.

I couldn’t, for the life of me, guess it.

I grabbed my phone and typed a quick message to Layne.

Me: when r u leaving Florence?

Layne: be there in a day or two.

Me: so we just found out there’s a serial killer in Hollow Heights.

Layne: who’s we? Is this the sexy madman or the hot cop?

Me: sexy madman, oh, also, we found some blood. Need it tested.

Layne: i’ll send u Liam’s address. just drop it off on ur way, i’ll call him.

Me: u r the best, Lay.

“Diya?” I looked up to see the gorgeous cop standing in front of me, eyes pointedly on the two empty glasses. “You’re here.” He gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey Vincent, how’s the investigation going?” I shouldn’t have asked that. His smile instantly turned sour.

“Going,” he said, staring at me, his eyes taking me in. “I wanted to call you…” His voice was apologetic. “I’m sorry. I keep messing up.” He placed his hand on top of mine. “Forgive me? It’s me. It’s not you.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” I said.

He smiled a little. “So, why are you here?”

“It’s for—” I was startled when Asher yanked Vincent’s hand away with a force that sent Vincent staggering back.

Vincent looked at me like I had killed his beloved pet puppy or something. The betrayal in those eyes made me flinch.

Asher leaned closer, his eyes smoldering with an intensity that made me fear my life.

He looked as he did when he killed Doctor Tomlinson. There was no emotion, only a cavernous hunger for blood. “I told you not to let him touch you.”

Vincent looked lost. It took him more than a few minutes to compose himself. When he did, he was staring at me like he couldn’t believe me, understand me.

“It’s part of his treatment.”

“You and I both know he doesn’t need therapy, Diya. He’s perfectly alright.”’

Asher arched his brows before he sat down, his legs pressed against mine, caging me in.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “And I’m obligated to do whatever I can for my patient.”

“Including fucking him,” Asher mouthed, and I had this burning desire to plunge the fork into his eye. The bastard was too smug for his own good, and this wasn’t the time or place for being so damn… not funny.

“You’re not obligated to protect a killer, Diya. That’s what you’re doing.”

“Here you go again… It’s innocent until proven guilty as far as I’m concerned,” I said with a shrug.

Asher winked at me.

“I want to talk with you. Alone, please, without the jackass listening to every word I say,” Vincent said, glaring at Asher. “Can you come out for a second?” Without waiting for my reply, Vincent walked out.

I stood up only to be stopped by Asher. His hold on my hand was proprietary. It was a shame that I liked that look of envy in his eyes a little too much.

It was… insanity.

“Think about my fingers buried in your pussy when he’s talking your ears off about how I’m going to destroy your life. I’m going to destroy your life and other parts, too, Diya Sharma, and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.”

My breath trembled as he teased my fingers.

The dangerous glint in his eyes excited me, called to the depravity underneath the carefully composed mask.

“I can’t wait for you to try, you preposterous bastard,” I said, and he chuckled.

“Oh, you’ll see, and you’ll never tell me to stop, Diya.”

He might be right, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I simply walked out.

Vincent was playing with his gun holster, his fingers lingering on it a little too long when I pulled the door open. His eyes were worried as they met mine. “He’s using you, Diya; he’ll use you to get whatever he wants. He won’t regret dragging you down with him.”

“Vincent, I can take care of myself. I appreciate your concern, but…”

“But you don’t need me poking my nose in your business, right?”

I sighed. “I…”

“So? Do you want to save me from boredom at my brother’s anniversary party?” Vincent asked, not-so-subtly changing the topic.

I hesitated for a second and then nodded. Talking with Vincent always led back to him accusing Asher, but I could find some information from Vincent if I steered the conversation the way I wanted it to go. It would be worth a try.

I knew I was using him, but I had to.

“Yes.”

His smile was so bright it made my stomach clench.

“I’ll pick you up on Friday evening.” I gave him a nod, and Vincent smiled.

“It’s a date then.”