Page 26

Ethan

I fucking hated leaving Mel alone when she was still so shaken. The image of her trembling in my jacket haunted me as I headed back toward the elevator. She’d insisted she was fine, but the terror in her eyes told a different story. Still, time was of the essence if we were going to gather evidence about who was behind these escalating attacks.

Our best chance of finding something and stopping this guy was right now .

When I reached Nova’s dressing room, my team had already established a perimeter. The stench of decay hit me as soon as I stepped through the doorway, making my throat tighten with revulsion.

“This is seriously fucked up,” Logan said, his usually stoic face showing genuine disgust as he stared at the raccoon corpse still wearing Nova’s rainbow wig. “Who does something like this?”

“Someone who’s escalating,” I replied, pulling out my phone. “At least we’re back in Texas. I’ve got law enforcement connections here that can help.”

I stepped away from the group, dialing Corey Hollis’s number. He was the one who’d suggested Citadel Solutions to Mel in the first place. If anyone could help us navigate this situation, it was him. We’d worked together on numerous cases over the years, and I trusted his judgment implicitly.

He answered on the third ring. “Hollis.”

“Corey, it’s Ethan Cross,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I need a favor.”

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to ruin my night?” His tone was wry but not unfriendly.

“Because you know me too well.” I glanced back at the freakish display. “We’ve got a situation at the Arts Center in Austin. Someone delivered a dead raccoon wearing Nova Rivers’s stage wig to her dressing room, along with a threatening note. They trapped her sister Mel inside with it by jamming the lock.”

“Jesus Christ,” Corey muttered. “Was Mel hurt?”

“Physically? No. Mentally? That’s another story.” I ran a hand through my hair, remembering how pale Mel had been. “I need your help on this, Corey. I know it’s not your jurisdiction, but I’d appreciate it if you could liaise with local PD. Keep Citadel in the loop so we can fill in any gaps in the investigation.”

“Consider it done.” I could hear him grabbing his keys in the background. “This is definitely an escalation. If this guy follows the typical pattern, actually harming Nova will be his next step.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

“I’ll handle the departmental issues,” Corey assured me. “Just tell your team to preserve the scene until I get there.”

“Will do. And, Corey? Thanks. ”

“Save it. You’re buying me dinner at that steak house you’re always bragging about when this is over.”

“Deal.”

I disconnected and rejoined my team, who were already documenting everything. Jace had his camera out, capturing multiple angles of the disturbing display, while Logan examined the box it had arrived in.

“We need to gather as much evidence as possible before police arrive,” I instructed. “Jace, get close-ups of the note and anything we can use to hunt him ourselves.”

“Already on it,” he replied, not looking up from his work.

The teddy bear with its ominous “Soon” note turned my stomach. Whoever was behind this wasn’t just making threats—they were promising action.

I turned to Ty. “Once the police take over, I need you to stay here and run interference. Nobody from Nova’s team gets in here—no dancers, no assistants, and especially not Dexter.”

“What should I tell them?” Ty asked, pocketing his phone.

“Water line break. Electrical hazard. Whatever works. Just keep them away.” I glanced at the horrific scene one more time. “The last thing we need is for this to leak to social media before we have a chance to handle the situation in-house.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Corey Hollis from Dallas PD will be here soon,” I added. “He’ll be our eyes and ears inside law enforcement, keep us informed about their findings.”

Jace, Logan, and I headed over to the hotel, where we’d converted one of the conference rooms into our command center. Several monitors lined one of the walls, displaying both the venue and hotel’s security feed for easy viewing.

Walking into the room, Jace went straight to his laptop. I dropped into a chair at his side, while Logan closed the door, then moved to the closest monitor.

“Let’s start with Clark Arici.” I leaned forward to study the screen as Jace pulled up info. “If he’s not behind all this, then where the hell is he?”

Jace’s fingers flew across his keyboard. “Okay. Clark Arici, twenty-seven. Professional dancer, joined Nova’s group six months ago after dancing on Broadway for three years. No criminal record, tends to keep to himself, according to the other dancers.”

“Yeah, I’ve talked to him a little,” Logan added. “Stays in his room during off hours, while most of the others party together.”

I frowned, studying the image on-screen. “Any red flags in his background check?”

“Nothing,” Jace confirmed. “Clean record, good references from previous jobs. No history of violence or erratic behavior.”

“Then where the hell is he?” I asked, frustration evident in my voice. “I want every security guard and hotel staff member looking for him. Check all exits, stairwells, service areas—everywhere. And look for footage of him taking that wig.”

“Already on it,” Logan assured me. “I’ve got hotel security helping with the search.”

I turned to Jace. “Did we have cameras covering the backstage areas where the wig was taken?”

“Most of our cameras are at the exterior doors and public areas,” Jace replied, pulling up a diagram of the camera layout. “We don’t have coverage in the dressing rooms for privacy reasons.”

“But we do have one camera backstage, covering the preshow area,” Logan interjected.

Jace nodded. “Let me pull up that footage.”

The video appeared on the main screen, showing the backstage area before tonight’s show. We watched as dancers gathered for their preshow circle, all wearing their elaborate masquerade masks for the opening number. Nova stood in the center, her own mask glittering under the lights .

“There,” Logan pointed. “That’s Clark rushing in at the last minute.”

We watched as the masked man apologized and joined the circle—it looked like he deliberately headed toward Nova. When Nova called Mel over, Clark made space and reached for Mel’s hand. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on first viewing.

“Anything unusual?” I asked, squinting at the screen.

Jace shook his head. “Not that I can see. He’s in costume and mask like everyone else.”

Just then, my phone rang. “Cross.”

“Sir, it’s Peterson from hotel security,” a voice said. “We accessed Clark Arici’s room after getting authorization from management. You need to get up here.”

“What did you find?” I asked, already on my feet.

“We found Clark,” the security officer replied. “In his closet. Tied up and gagged.”

The news hit me like a fist to the face. “Is he alive?”

“Yes, sir. Appears he was knocked unconscious. There’s a bump on his head, but he’s breathing. We’ve called an ambulance.”

“I’m sending Logan to escort him to the hospital,” I said, motioning to Logan, who was already grabbing his jacket.

I hung up and turned to Logan. “Clark isn’t our suspect—they just found him bound and gagged. Go with him to the hospital, make sure he’s safe, and find out everything he remembers. Who approached him, what they looked like, when it happened—everything.”

Logan nodded and headed for the door. “I’ll keep you updated.”

After he left, I turned to Jace, adrenaline pumping through my veins. “That wasn’t Clark in the circle.”

Jace’s head snapped up. “Not if they just found him tied up in his room. So, who was it?”

“Play the footage again,” I instructed .

We watched the video again, this time with different eyes. The impostor moved with confidence, took his position without hesitation, moving directly toward Nova as he came in.

“Slow it down,” I said, leaning closer. “See what details we can pick up.”

Jace complied, and we studied the impostor’s movements frame by frame. In the bright stage lights, I could make out a glimpse of pale skin where the mask didn’t cover, brown hair visible at the temples, and a slim but athletic build.

“He’s about five ten, maybe 175,” Jace noted. “Caucasian male from what little we can see.”

I watched the figure take Mel’s hand during the circle, and a surge of protectiveness coursed through me. “This bastard touched her,” I said, my voice tight with controlled anger.

It shouldn’t matter, but it did. I didn’t want Nova’s stalker anywhere near Mel.

“Okay, so that’s our stalker,” Jace said, rewinding the footage again. “The impostor joins the preshow circle, then what? He never went onstage. Never makes a play for Nova.”

“He only needed the costume and mask to get backstage access,” I said, pieces falling into place. “It gave him access to the wig. That’s all he needed. And to get close to Nova.”

We watched the footage again. No one even questioned that was Clark. If he had wanted to hurt Nova, he could’ve done it. But what he wanted to do was scare her. Show he could get close to her.

And that he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.

My phone rang again. It was Logan.

“How’s Clark?” I asked without preamble.

“Paramedics say he has a concussion but should be fine,” Logan reported. “He says someone clocked him as he was going into his room. Never got a glimpse of a face.”

“Let me guess, someone roughly his size and height?” That was why the stalker chose Clark .

“That’s about right,” Logan replied. “The attacker took his costume, mask, and credentials after tying him up.”

“Stay with him,” I instructed. “Make sure he gives a full statement to police, and don’t leave him alone until we know more.”

I hung up and filled Jace in on Clark’s condition.

“It wouldn’t take much to develop a plan involving the pre-performance circle.” I stood at the window, staring out at the city lights but seeing nothing. My mind was racing through possibilities, contingencies, security measures. “It was a good plan. The masks make for a security factor we didn’t take into consideration. We’ll need to check everyone individually from now on.”

“Yes.”

“One thing’s certain,” I said finally. “Nova is in more danger than she’s ever been. And we need to be ready for whatever comes next.”

“We’ll stop this guy,” Jace assured me, his voice firm with conviction. “One more show, then we have a full week to regroup.”

“One more show,” I agreed, though the words felt hollow. “Let’s just make sure everyone survives it.”