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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

By the time they arrived at Tyson’s house, Olivia was fighting a full-blown panic attack. Anxiety welled inside her like a sneeze she tried to hold back.

The panic couldn’t take over. It was too consuming. The emotion would cripple her from doing her job and make her look weak.

Thankfully, Tyson went out to run some errands, and Wes and Chandler had left for a baseball game. That left Olivia with the entire house to herself—other than Hobbes, of course. According to Tyson, he was in his room reading a book. Despite seeing him go into Tyson’s office that night, she thought she could trust him.

She sat in her room, laptop in front of her in case she wanted to work. But her thoughts continued to grip her.

The sick feeling remained in her stomach. At first, she’d blamed it on the greasy meal. Now she wasn’t sure. She had a feeling it had more to do with the flyer she’d found on Tyson’s truck.

Someone knew she was in North Carolina and was familiar with what had happened to her. For some reason, this person wanted to remind her of the trauma she’d experienced.

That’s all it is, Olivia told herself. A reminder, not a threat. Just a mean prank.

But why would someone go through all that trouble?

Brian Elliot was dead now, she reminded herself again. Gone. She didn’t have to worry about him. He was no longer a threat.

Regardless, she needed some fresh air.

She stepped outside to the patio and lowered herself into a padded chair. Even though she was outside, she felt safe here.

Taking deep breaths, she pulled out her laptop.

She’d thought about doing this many times before, but she’d never allowed herself to actually follow through with the idea.

Now, she would.

She hesitated before typing in the words to her search engine.

She needed to look for any other murders that had occurred in the past year . . . murders that followed the same pattern as The Admirer.

* * *

Olivia had scoured news article after news article.

She’d started by searching the New York area, where The Admirer had originally struck terror into the hearts of locals. But she didn’t think he’d strike again in the same vicinity. It would be too obvious.

She wasn’t surprised when she didn’t find any murders in that area that fit the right pattern.

However, three news articles caught her attention.

One was in Maine. A woman in her twenties had been abducted and found dead in the woods a week later. The dirt under her nails didn’t match the dirt in her shallow grave, leading authorities to believe she’d been kept underground somewhere before her murder.

The next case was in Virginia. Another woman the same basic age had also been found in a shallow grave. Pinpricks in her neck indicated she’d been drugged.

The third had taken place in Ohio. Same basic MO as far as how the body was found and the length of time the woman had been missing.

The killer—or killers—hadn’t been found.

There was no mention of roses either.

Maybe these murders weren’t connected at all.

Olivia couldn’t know for sure. But the thought weighed heavily on her mind.

She needed to find out more information. First thing in the morning she planned on calling some of her contacts to see if they knew anything. She’d made a few connections in her job as a reporter. FBI consultants. Other reporters across the country.

She could even call the FBI special agent who’d handled her case—even though things between the two of them hadn’t ended well.

Because if this monster was somehow still alive . . . that would be her worst nightmare.

And it would mean Olivia was still in danger.