Page 33 of Devil's Hour

“Felix isn’t just a journalist; he hosts true crime podcasts. He’d done a series about Chasity Blake’s disappearance and the eventual discovery of her body. It was compelling, thoughtful, and he had some insightful suggestions because people who were afraid of the police were willing to speak to him. I reached out to Felix and asked him to introduce me to the witnesses. One of Chasity’s friends confided to me that she was seeing an older, married man. Previously no one mentioned a boyfriend to the cops. Chasity’s parents were unaware of the situation, and her friends had kept her secret, even though it meant her killer escaped justice for all those years.”

Royce shook his head. “I’ll never understand that logic.”

“Me either. That was the thread I needed though, and I kept pulling until things started to unravel. I took a deep look at the older, married men in Chasity’s life and eventually nailed the fucker.” Adam Dunskeep was a retired cop and a deacon at the church the Blakes attended. He was a man who had abused his position and the trust her family placed in him. Chasity had fallen in love with the older man and wanted him to leave his wife and kids for her, but Dunskeep had no intention of doing so. He’d only wanted the thrill of fucking around with a woman barely out of childhood. He panicked and killed her when Chasity told him she was pregnant. There was a special place in hell for bastards like him where the flames burned hotter and the pain was more profound.

“So, Felix felt like he played a part in capturing Dunskeep. Did he think you owed him something?” Royce asked, signaling to turn into the GBI parking lot.

“He did play a critical role, which is something I never downplayed. I credited both his series and his assistance with the witnesses in the interviews I gave, including the one I did for his podcast.”

“What’s his problem, then?” Royce groused. They still had ten minutes before their appointment with St. John, and he wanted Sawyer to finish before they went inside. He had no idea how long they’d be meeting with the agent, and he didn’t want to keep stewing about Fleabag all fucking day long.

“We bonded over the case and became friends, or so I thought. I introduced him to Vic, and the three of us started hanging out together. He was there for me a lot after Vic’s diagnosis when others kind of pulled back, acting like his cancer was contagious.” Sawyer blew out a sharp breath. “Once Vic realized his cancer was terminal, he focused his energy on making sure I was set up okay. His biggest fear wasn’t dying; it was that I would stop living. He’d made it clear he wanted me to find someone special and be happy.” More proof that Vic was a better man than him. Royce could never be so selfless. He’d haunt the fuck out of anyone who dared to sleep with Sawyer or even get too close to Bones. “I didn’t know it until after I had sex with Felix, but Vic had confided his worries to my supposed friend, who in turn told my husband he was in love with me and had been for a long time. He asked Vic for his blessing to pursue me once I was ready to date again, and Vic, believing Felix was a good guy, gave it to him.”

“Felix threw this up in your face after you had sex?”

Sawyer nodded. “I… He was the first guy after Vic. I was so fucking lonely, physically at least. I needed someone I could trust, and I thought Felix was that someone. I told him I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and I only wanted relief. I’m not proud of my behavior or that I used him, but I was honest about what I was willing to give him. Felix said he was okay with it. Afterward, I stumbled home and vomited from guilt and shame. Felix kept reaching out to me, and I kept ignoring him, hoping he’d go away.”

“He didn’t.”

“Hell no. Felix doubled down by telling me about the conversation he’d had with Vic the week before he died, thinking that would either lessen my guilt or make me see him in a new light because Vic had approved.”

“That son of a bitch.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer said. “I wanted nothing to do with him after that. To get even, he made trouble for me by writing those stories and slanting them to look like I was the one leaking the information to him. Now, this.”

“He’ll cross the line, and we’ll nail his ass,” Royce growled, wishing he’d chosen a different phrase. He didn’t like reminders that Sawyer had indeed nailed Felix’s ass. Shoving aside his irrational jealousy, Royce focused on his anger instead. Maybe it wasn’t healthy either, but he could use it for the greater good where jealousy just corroded his relationship with Sawyer. Royce didn’t need to dig deep to find the well of rage inside him. Fuck that son of a bitch for manipulating Sawyer with such a devious tactic, and then threatening his career when he didn’t get his way. And damn him for earning Vic’s blessing to share a life with Sawyer—something Royce would never have.

“Anyway,” Sawyer said on a sigh. “Now you know his problem.”

“He’s just a whiny, jealous bitch who doesn’t know when to back the fuck off.”But he will.Royce was going to fix that bastard’s problem once and for all, even if he didn’t yet know how. “Let’s go meet with this guy Jonah, who happens to be Rigby’s nephew.”

“Jonah St. John?”

Royce scowled. “You know him?”

Sawyer snorted. “Not like you’re thinking, dickhead. He did a seminar on building criminal profiles and supercomputers with artificial intelligence.”

“What’s he like?”

“Smart,” Sawyer said, but Royce could tell he left off other adjectives. Jesus. He wasn’t that fucking insecure.Usually.“I never knew he was Rigby’s nephew.”

“Let’s head inside and get this meeting started. Rigby sent him a copy of the letters so he could get a head start on analyzing them. He’s also supposed to compile a list of potential suspects from paroled arsonists or perps known to dabble with fire. I hope we come up with something because so far we’ve got nothing.”

“They’ll screw up and leave a clue. They always do,” Sawyer said.

Yes, but at what cost?

It was clear right from their introductions that Jonah St. John was as smart as Sawyer stated, but his attractiveness was also equally noticeable. Royce had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when the tall bruiser strode toward them. While he had no doubt Sawyer found a brilliant mind attractive, there was no way he hadn’t noticed St. John’s sexiness. More intriguing than his squared-jaw good looks was a wicked scar slashing diagonally across his face from above his right eyebrow to the left corner of his mouth. Instead of it diminishing his looks, the marred skin enhanced them, making him look mysterious.

“Chief Rigby sent over copies of the letters, and I’ve uploaded them into Stella,” St. John said after showing them into his spacious office where the typical desk setup was at one end and a larger computer and a small conference table took up the other side. He gestured toward the massive computer. “Meet Stella.” St. John’s voice was soft and smooth, the exact opposite of his appearance.

“What does Stella stand for?” Sawyer asked.

Jonah chuckled. “It’s not an acronym. I named her after the nosy neighbor who lived beside my family. Stella never missed anything, loved puzzles, and had the talent to combine bits and pieces to make predictions that were eerily accurate.”

Royce and Sawyer laughed.

“We haven’t given Stella many pieces to work with yet,” Royce said.