Page 26 of Darkest Before Dawn (His Perfect Darkness #2)

I nara

What a difference a day makes. I walked into work this morning with a bounce to my step. Because of Rex, I’m well rested, and my sex is sated and only a little sore.

Today, my keycard works just fine. Chief Jordan is waiting to escort me to the situation room. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, I ignore the stares and walk to the front to present my profile. It doesn’t matter how I got the attention; I have a platform, and I’m going to use it.

Bonds is in the far corner, studying me with narrowed eyes. I raise my chin and he gives me a wry smile.

Then, I present my findings. I cover the history of the Bondage Killer and his MO.

“He’s organized. Displays signs of psychopathy.

He has no empathy for his victims. But he was regarded as competent by his coworkers.

” I outline his crimes in the barest of details.

“He was presumed dead, but his body was never recovered. And I have reason to believe he’s back. ”

I pause to click through a slide deck of the letters left at my townhouse. In the back of the room, Silva sidles in and salutes me with his to-go cup. His encouragement helps, and I breeze through the disturbing details of the Bondage Killer’s obsession with me.

“I believe he was surveilling me.” I pause on the letter that rants about how I belong to him. “He saw me interact with a male acquaintance,” I recite dispassionately, “and wrote this letter in response.” I take a sip of water and move on to show pictures of the dead birds left at my apartment.

The room is dead silent as I describe the scene findings by a “private contractor hired by the department to assess the scene.” Rex and I already ran this past Chief Jordan and got permission retroactively.

“Now, there might be a link between two unsolved cases and BK’s activity.” I click through slides of the Blackbird murders. “The MO is different, but the unsub left the same signature—a dead bird—at the scene.”

“You think Dennis Bundy was responsible for the Blackbird murders?” Bonds interrupts.

“I don’t have any evidence to support this. But the timeline fits. He could’ve moved to New Rome after escaping the warehouse fire.”

No one says the obvious. That he’s killing women who look like me because he’s hyper-focused on the one victim who got away.

I finish and let Bonds take over debriefing the room.

“How do we know this is the Bondage Killer?” Burgess pushes to the front of the room to ask. “Could be a copycat.”

“We’ll pursue all lines of inquiry, but for now, we’re going to operate as if it is him,” Bonds deflects and gives us our orders. I note that Burgess is assigned a job, but I’m not.

After Bonds admonishes us not to leak anything to the press, the chief gives a few vague words meant to inspire or some shit, and then the meeting is adjourned.

I head out quickly, wanting to avoid Burgess.

Silva falls into step beside me. “Great job in there. But damn, chica, you’re right in the middle of this again.”

I shrug.

“At least you have a rich husband to soothe your pain.” He winks at me.

“No comment.” I bite back a smile.

“Ah, ah, not so fast. I suppose you think you can buy off my curiosity with this.” He holds up his cup. “This morning, my favorite vendor told me I have unlimited chai. For life. And I know I have you to thank.”

I can’t suppress my grin any longer. “You’re welcome.”

“I knew it,” he crows. “Apparently, the whole department is getting new computers. Someone has a black credit card and isn’t afraid to use it. I figured it was you.”

“Good sleuth work.” Inara Ramos had nothing to her name, but Mrs. Roy does. I can pretend to be her long enough to spend some of those billions. If Rex has a problem with it, then he shouldn’t have given me access to his fortune.

But the way he preened when he presented me with a new Roy Bank card this morning, I bet he likes it when I spend his money. Makes him feel like I’m accepting our marriage. He probably enjoys tracking every purchase I make. The megalomaniac.

Silva peels off, leaving me feeling good. I like being able to give gifts to the people in my life. I have something epic in mind for Mina, if only I can find her.

I take a moment to send messages to a few of Mina’s handles on different chat forums we used to use. There’s no answer, but one of them might reach her. I’m sure Rex kept his word and backed off from tormenting her, but I haven’t heard from her since she went radio silent. I hope she’s okay.

While I was leading the meeting, I missed a call from Lacy Collins.

I remember all the things I said to Rex about her last night and feel a little buzzed that she’s called on the heels of that conversation. It’s like I conjured her.

After a second of hesitation, I hit play on the voicemail she left. I haven’t heard her voice in so long, and just the sound of her saying my name sends a pang through my heart.

“Inara, it’s good to hear from you.” There’s no mention of how I’ve cut off contact for years.

No guilt trip. I still feel the guilt, but it’s muted because of her compassion.

“After I got your message, I was contacted by a Hamish Hitchcock. I verified that he’s acting on your behalf”—there’s a touch of a smile in her voice, like she knows I’m married—“and sent him my case notes. I hope they’re helping you.

” There’s a pause, and her voice softens.

“I’m sorry this is happening. I failed you.

” Her breathing catches, and my heart almost stops with the pain that underlies her words.

Another pause, and her voice steadies, growing stronger.

“But I know you’ll make it right. You’re going to nail him. ”

I clutch my phone to my chest, reeling. I should’ve listened to this voicemail at night, in private, when it’d be another secret in the dark.

There are tears pricking my eyes, and I’m in the bullpen surrounded by hardened detectives who lost the ability to cry decades ago. I need to hold it together.

The pain in my chest expands, making it hard to breathe. I hunch over, willing myself to stay upright.

I failed you.

I know why she feels this way. I feel it, too.

It’s the same way Rex feels about his own parents’ murders. That he should’ve stopped it. We both should’ve been bigger, stronger, faster, smarter.

I should’ve done something that night to stop the Bondage Killer.

It doesn’t make sense to feel this way, but I do.

You’re going to nail him. She sounds so certain. She’s always believed in me.

For some reason, that makes me want to cry even more.

I somehow make my way to my desk and sink into my chair. The room is busy with people, but only Burgess notices me. He frowns in my general direction but doesn’t say anything before going back to his work.

I bow my head like I’m thinking and try to get a hold of myself. My psychic senses are screaming, trying to tell me something, so I dampen them a moment. I feel like I’m moving through water.

Breathe. Just breathe. The small, encouraging voice in my head sounds like Rex. It helps.

I’m going to nail him. My mentor is right. This time, the thought doesn’t make me want to cry. It makes me want to work.

But then I look at my desk and realize what someone has left for me.

There’s a worn book in front of me with a familiar image on the cover—a pattern of birds in flight. I haven’t seen it in years and yet I recognize it right away. It’s my journal from years ago. I know without looking that it’s filled with my childish scrawl.

I remember my mother giving it to me, explaining the origins of my name.

Swallow . After she gave me the journal, I learned more about the birds. The knowledge stayed with me, lurking in my subconscious, so when it was time to choose a submissive moniker, I chose that word. Little bird.

My Swallow. This is why the Bondage Killer called me that in his letters to me. I can only hope he didn’t discover my visits to Empire. Just thinking of him obsessing over my sex life makes me feel like I’ve bathed in a cesspit.

Don’t spiral. Think. This is evidence. A clue. A sign the killer was able to infiltrate the department. His message is clear: nowhere is safe.

I have a sudden, wild thought: I want Rex. I imagine him here, standing with me, reminding me to breathe. He’d take over and eventually would go too far and annoy me, but he’d be a safe, solid presence. A powerful force on my side.

I look around, but there’s no sign of anyone who might have left this.

“Burgess?” I call.

He raises his head so quickly that I get the feeling he was paying too close attention to me even before I called his name.

I point to the journal. “Do you know who put this on my desk?”

“Yeah, some guy from the press. He wanted to hang around to speak to you, but the desk sergeant made him leave. He said his name was Ted.”

“When was this?”

He shrugs. “Half an hour ago.”

This is it—confirmation that the Bondage Killer is responsible for the recent killings. He picked up this journal the night he came into my room. And now he’s left it for me.

Slowly, gingerly, I pick up the journal, and a picture falls out.

It’s a picture of my family. I stare at the smiling faces, and chills run through me. Every face has an X over it except one.

Mine.

Rex

I’m beginning to think that giving Inara her own private situation room was a mistake.

Ever since Hamish delivered Detective Lacy Collins’s notes, my beautiful wife has been holed up for days, staring at the walls of evidence for hours on end.

She goes into the precinct for a few hours each day.

Her team of bodyguards reports that she’s visited the most recent crime scenes a few times, although the detail makes it difficult to do the sort of boots-on-the-ground police work she prefers.

I’ve stopped sending Jaeger and Kaiser out with her. I didn’t tell her that St. James was the one who insisted on them being her main bodyguards rather than having a more traditional team. I think he was afraid I’d steal her away.