Page 49

CHAPTER

FORTY-EIGHT

Ashcroft closed the office door behind them and moved to his desk, but he didn’t sit down. Instead, he stood with his hands braced on the desktop, studying Logan with an unreadable expression.

Logan remained standing as well, shoulders squared, ready for whatever was coming.

“Sir, I know you told me to stay away from this case, but?—”

Ashcroft held up a hand, cutting him off. “After the press conference today, I had an interesting conversation with Mayor Hendricks.”

Logan blinked, thrown by the unexpected direction of this conversation. “The mayor?”

“She made a point of asking about you specifically. Seems your name came up in several conversations she’s had with concerned citizens and other city leaders over the past few days.

” Ashcroft’s expression was still stern, but something in his tone shifted.

“People who’ve worked with you before, people who trust you, who think you’re the cream of the crop, so to speak. ”

Logan waited, not sure where this was heading.

“The mayor reminded me that this case has the entire city on edge. Three murders, a missing woman, and a killer who seems to always be one step ahead of us.” Ashcroft straightened, his eyes meeting Logan’s directly.

“She suggested that maybe this isn’t the time to let personal considerations override practical ones. ”

“Personal considerations?” He raised his brow.

“Your connection to Morgan Riley. I was concerned it would compromise your judgment.” Ashcroft moved around his desk to face Logan directly. “But the mayor pointed out that it might also be exactly what gives you the insight we need to catch this maniac.”

Logan felt something grow in his chest. Hope? Relief? He wasn’t sure which.

“I’m putting you back on the case, Gibson. Full reinstatement, effective immediately.” Ashcroft’s voice carried its familiar edge of authority. “I’m placing you in charge. Yazzie and Reeves will help. I want you to use whatever knowledge you have about Morgan Riley to help us find her.”

“Thank you, sir. I won’t?—”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Ashcroft’s expression hardened. “You get one chance at this, Gibson. One. If you let your emotions cloud your judgment, if you go rogue, if you do anything that compromises this investigation, I’ll have your badge and your career. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good.”

“One request, however.”

Ashcroft’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t think you’re in a position to request anything.”

If the mayor wanted Logan on this case, then he did have some leverage. But he didn’t say that. Certainly, the chief already knew but would never admit it.

“I need to loop in my friends with this case,” Logan said. “They’ve been a huge help, and I really think we could use their manpower.”

“You want them to be consultants?” Ashcroft practically scoffed as he said the words.

“I just want their assistance. We’re short-staffed. You know we need the help.”

Ashcroft remained quiet a moment before finally grunting. “Fine. But if they get out of line, I rescind this offer.”

“They won’t get out of line.”

Ashcroft moved to his chair and plopped down, already reaching for a stack of papers. “Now get out there and catch this killer. And Gibson?”

Logan paused at the door. “Yes, sir?”

“Don’t disappoint me.”

As Logan walked back down the hallway toward Yazzie’s workstation, he felt a surge of energy he hadn’t experienced in days.

He was back on the case. Back in the fight to find Morgan and stop this monster.

For the first time since this nightmare began, he felt they might actually have a chance.

Logan pulled up a chair between Yazzie and Reeves, the three of them forming a tight circle around the evidence board that had become the center of their investigation.

Photos, maps, witness statements, and forensic reports created a mosaic of horror that somehow still refused to reveal its complete pattern.

“Walk me through any evidence you’ve found since we last spoke,” Logan said. “I want to make sure I haven’t missed anything.”

They reviewed what they knew. The only thing that caught his interest was the information on Reuben Walsh.

Logan felt his breath catch as he looked at the images from the crime scene.

Walsh’s body was frozen in the ice of the small lake, positioned as if he’d been trying to climb out when death took him. But Logan could see from the angles that this was another careful staging, another recreation of one of Morgan’s photographs.

“The killer broke through the ice, positioned the body, then let it refreeze around it,” Reeves explained. “Must have taken hours in subzero temperatures. The level of commitment is . . .”

“Insane,” Logan finished.

“Also horrifying,” Yazzie added.

“What about Chatanika?” Logan asked.

“Like I said earlier, the caller reported evidence someone has been there recently—tire tracks, some disturbed ground—but no sign of current activity.” Yazzie shuffled through his notes. “Could be legitimate, could be another false lead.”

Logan spent another hour going through witness statements, forensic reports, and the timeline they’d constructed. But there was nothing new, no sudden revelation that cracked the case open. Just the same methodical pattern of a killer who treated murder as performance art.

“I need to call it a night.” Logan rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Fresh perspective in the morning might help.”

As he gathered his jacket, Reeves touched his arm. “Logan, we’re going to find her. And we’re going to stop him.”

“I know.” The words felt hollow in his mouth.

They’d been saying that for days while the body count rose and Morgan remained missing.

But Logan had to keep his hope alive. He had no other choice. Because the only other option was . . . despair.