Page 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Olivia’s blood ran cold. “This guy made his victims breathe in rose petals?”

“According to the coroner in the Ohio case, the killer forced the petals down their throats just before death,” Marcus said. “It was part of his . . . ritual.”

Her vision blurred momentarily. She gripped the edge of the desk, forcing herself to breathe. “That wasn’t part of The Admirer’s MO. At least, not with me. Not with the cases we knew about in New York.”

“This could be a copycat who’s adding his own signature,” Marcus suggested. “Or . . .”

“Or The Admirer was just getting started in New York,” she finished. “And what happened to these women is what would have happened to me if I hadn’t escaped.”

The silence on the line stretched uncomfortably.

“I reached out to my contact at the FBI,” Marcus finally said. “She’s looking for connections between your case and these three. So far, nothing concrete—but she’s interested.”

“Thank you,” Olivia insisted. “I’d appreciate any updates.”

“Of course. But she might have questions for you. The Bureau doesn’t play nice, even with victims.”

“I’m not a victim,” Olivia said automatically, the response ingrained from countless therapy sessions.

“No, you’re not.” Marcus paused. “How are things down there in North Carolina? Your cryptic messages mentioned roses.”

Olivia hesitated, suddenly aware of how exposed a phone call could be. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain everything when I can.”

“Olivia—”

“I need to make another call,” she cut him off. “But thank you, Marcus. Really.”

He sighed. “Just . . . be careful, would you? And call me if you need anything else.”

After ending the call, Olivia stared at her notes. Rose petals in their lungs.

The thought made her physically ill.

Taking a deep breath, she dialed her second contact—Jenna Winters, a former classmate who now worked as a forensic anthropologist with the Virginia State Police.

“I was wondering when you’d get around to calling me,” Jenna answered, her voice edged with concern. “I’ve been looking into that Jane Doe case you mentioned.”

“And?” Olivia prompted.

“It’s disturbing, Liv. Really disturbing.” Jenna’s professional demeanor cracked slightly. “The dirt found under her nails—it contained microorganisms typically found in root cellars. Old ones. The kind used before modern refrigeration.”

Olivia closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory of earthen walls pressing in around her. “Was there anything else? Anything that might help identify who did this to her?”

“Actually, yes. One thing the local detectives missed, but I caught during a secondary examination.” Jenna lowered her voice, though she was likely alone in her lab. “A fiber. Caught under one of her fingernails. Some kind of high-end synthetic. We haven’t been able to identify exactly where it came from yet—but at least it’s something.”

“Maybe it will lead somewhere.”

“Possibly.” A pause. “Olivia, what’s going on? These questions . . . this isn’t just professional curiosity, is it?”

Olivia glanced at her locked door, suddenly feeling the weight of isolation despite the security outside. “I think the man who abducted me is still alive, Jenna—or that he had an accomplice. And I think this guy has killed at least three women since then.”

“What?” Jenna’s shock was palpable. “Have you told the police?”

“I’m working with them. But I need more. I need something concrete that ties these cases to mine.”

“I’ll keep digging,” Jenna promised. “But you should know—I found two more cases that match the pattern. One in Pennsylvania, one in Tennessee.”

Olivia’s stomach dropped. “Two more? When?”

“The Tennessee victim was found three weeks ago. Pennsylvania, just nine days ago.”

Which meant he’d been active even while sending her the roses. The realization chilled her.

“I have to go,” she said abruptly. “But send me everything you can, okay?”

After ending the call, Olivia sat motionless, processing what she’d learned. Five more women dead. Five more lives ended by the man who now had her in his sights again.

* * *

Tyson paused outside Olivia’s room and softly knocked at her door.

“Olivia?” He kept his voice low with concern. “Everything alright? The security team reported hearing voices.”

A moment later, she opened the door, a look of surprise across her face. “I was just making some calls. Doing some research.”

She stepped back, inviting him inside. After hesitating a moment, he stepped closer.

As soon as he did, his gaze fell on her open notebook, filled with her cramped handwriting.

“The other murders you mentioned to Scarborough?” he clarified.

She nodded, suddenly appearing exhausted. “Five now. Not three. And there’s evidence linking them to The Admirer’s MO.”

His expression darkened. “You should tell Scarborough.”

“I will. Tomorrow.” She sank onto the edge of the bed. “I just needed to be sure first.”

Tyson hesitated, then sat beside her, careful to maintain a respectful distance. “What did you find out?”

As she recounted what Marcus and Jenna had told her, Tyson felt all the emotions—horror, anger, disgust. But most of all, his resolve hardened with each detail.

“We’ll find him,” Tyson told Olivia when she finished. “Whatever it takes.”

She studied his face without apology. “Why do you care so much, Tyson? Really?”

He met her gaze, feeling vulnerable enough that he should know better than to speak. “Because no one should have to face darkness alone.”

The simple answer seemed to crack something inside her, and she looked away.

He wanted to take the words back—yet he didn’t. He meant what he said.

More than anything, he wanted to be there for Olivia.

Olivia finally cleared her throat. “I should get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

Tyson nodded and rose. “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

He paused at the doorway. “Olivia?”

“Yes?”

“We’re going to stop him,” he promised. “He doesn’t get to break you. Not again.”