Page 18 of Secrets Along the Shore (Beach Read Thrillers #1)

CHAPTER

TEN

I waited, tapping my foot on the station floor until an officer escorted me to a meeting room. Its walls were white and bare. The floor was a cold linoleum. The table in the center of the room had as much aesthetic atmosphere as a stainless steel frying pan.

“Want some coffee?” the officer asked with as much ambition as a cat had to move out of a sunny spot.

“No, thank you.”

He nodded and left me there to continue tapping my foot. It was probably five minutes, but it might as well have been five hours. Finally, the door opened and Reuben walked in, followed by Dickson.

“Hello, Noa.” She smiled.

I liked Dickson. I was glad she was here. I had a feeling she might take my epiphany more seriously than Reuben. Mostly because it was all based in theory rather than fact.

“What’s up?” Reuben appeared concerned and I waved him off.

“I’m fine. Nothing’s happened.”

They exchanged glances.

Dickson pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning her elbows on the table. “Did you remember something?”

“No.” I shook my head. Adjusting in my chair, I wished I had accepted that cup of coffee if for no other reason than to have something to do with my hands. “I have a theory. ”

“A theory?” Dickson raised her brows.

“Yes.” I nodded, then I reached for my canvas bag. It carried my wallet in it, a pair of sunglasses, a water bottle, and now, my spiral notebook. Before I’d left work—after telling them all I wasn’t feeling well—I’d printed off a few articles from the online newspaper.

I pulled out my notebook and retrieved the folded pages I’d stuffed inside of it.

“Look.” I laid a photograph of Sophia on the table. Then one of Rosalie. Finally, one of Lillian. “Three women. Three separate ages. Totally unconnected except they’re all from Whisper’s End and they all had dead snakes under their windows.”

“Okay?” Reuben dragged out the word. “We knew this.”

“I figured out how they are connected.”

A pregnant pause followed as I watched Reuben and Dickson’s faces.

“How?” Dickson asked.

“Sixty-four years old.” I pointed at Lilian’s image. “Forty-eight years old.” I tapped Rosalie’s. “Eighteen.” My finger landed on Sophia’s photo.

“Not to be rude, but spit it out, Noa.” Reuben sounded irritated.

He’d failed if he was sincerely trying not to be rude.

Dickson kicked Reuben’s leg under the table.

He scowled.

I ignored the entire transaction and continued. “Sometimes, the people who are the most dangerous are the people closest to you.”

“That’s cynical,” Dickson observed. “But unfortunately, true.”

“What are you saying? You think we need to look at someone who was close to these three women?” Reuben’s question was offered with not a little bit of we already did that added.

“No.” I shook my head. “I think you need to look at the three people closest to the killer .”

“We don’t know who the killer is,” Dickson stated.

“I know. But his actions reveal what he’s most affected by.

” I redirected their attention to the women’s faces.

“Three generations. Right here. Granted, not related, but think of it as if these women represent three generations of women closest to our killer. Grandmother.” I slid Lilian’s photo toward Reuben.

“Mother.” I pushed Rosalie’s toward him as well.

“And sister.” I finished with Sophia’s. “We need to be looking for someone who comes from a dysfunctional home. Someone who experienced abuse from their grandmother and mother and probably a sister. Or maybe the sister played a different role and that’s why we’ve found Sophia already.

That may be why he killed her so impulsively. ”

Dickson and Reuben both frowned.

“I don’t—” Dickson began, but I interrupted her.

“Listen to me. What drives a person to kill?”

“There’s a lot of reasons,” Dickson concluded.

“Tell me some,” I challenged.

Reuben obliged. “Money. Control. Mental illness. Thrill . . .”

I jumped in, using my hands to emphasize my theory. “There’s never been any ask for money, right?”

“No.” Dickson shook her head.

“So that’s out as a motive. Control, maybe, but . . . we can revisit that one. Mental illness?”

“Obviously a possibility,” Reuben broke in.

“Right. Caused by what? Often times mental illness is affected by someone’s upbringing. Their environment. It might make them feel out of control, or—unwanted—or—whatever. But it motivates them to do something.”

“Okay.” Reuben leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head, elbows sticking out. “So, you’re making the assumption that Sophia’s killer was raised in an abusive environment influenced by the women closest to him?”

“Yes.” I nodded.

“And you’re suggesting he’s recreating that family unit by abducting a grandmother figure, a mother figure, and—for the sake of argument—we’ll assume Sophia represents a sister?”

“Yes.” I leapt from my chair. It was too hard to sit down. The more I considered it, the stronger I felt I was moving in the right direction.

I looked over at Dickson, and I wasn’t surprised to see Sophia standing behind her. She smiled. Encouraging me to continue. To keep theorizing .

“Think about it,” I said. I was passionate now. “Lilian—grandmother type—loves dogs, helps out at retirement centers—she is the perfect picture of what we’d want as a grandmother.”

“We’d?” Reuben raised his eyebrow.

I ignored him. So what if I was internalizing this?

Of course, I’d always wanted a grandmother.

The kind that baked cookies and snuggled you up to watch a movie and read you stories for overnight slumber parties.

“Rosalie,” I continued. “Smart woman, devoted mother, devoted wife, everything perfect about her. She runs a business, she makes it to her son’s games, she idolizes her daughter, and she’s got homemaking skills out the ying-yang. The perfect mother.”

And she was. Rosalie was exactly what I would have wished for had I had a mother who wasn’t a meth-head and deadbeat.

“And Sophia?” Dickson appeared to be tracking with me.

“I don’t know for sure, but I’d venture she was supposed to be the perfect sister. But she disappointed him. That’s why he snapped. That’s why we found her body so easily. It wasn’t planned—it wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be a part of the recreated family dynamic.”

“Let’s assume this has even a minimal amount of truth to it,” Reuben inserted. “Why the snakes?”

I knew he wanted to tie this to me. To my case. And a part of me was grateful for his dedication to doing so. But I just didn’t see the similarities beyond the reptile.

“I don’t know why the snakes. They obviously mean something to him. I would guess connected to his upbringing.”

I glanced at Sophia.

She nodded again.

I smiled.

Dickson glanced over her shoulder, following my gaze.

I dropped my focus.

Dickson frowned. “So. Who broke into your house last night, then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m too close to something and he wants to stop me?” That was a stretch. How would Sophia’s killer even know I was involved even a little ?

“Ok.” Reuben dropped his arms from behind his head and his palms slapped the table.

I jumped.

“We’ve got zero evidence to support your theory.”

“We have the demographics,” I argued.

“Sure. I can make them fit a lot of scenarios if I wanted to.”

“Yeah, I know.” I eyed him. “You keep trying to convince yourself they’re tied to my case and they’re not.”

“Ok you two.” Dickson held up her hands. “In your corners.”

Reuben glowered.

I glared.

Dickson gave small snort. “You’re like Zayn Malik and One Direction.

You’ve got creative differences and you’re willing to break up over it.

Get it together, Ghost.” Dickson leveled a warning.

“We’ve hardly got much to go on. None of our leads so far have panned out.

Including your theory that this has to do with the Serpent Killer. ”

“Your point?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

I had a feeling that I’d won.

“My point is, start looking into this angle. Is there anyone we can tie to these women, who also had a bad upbringing? Probably someone raised by a grandmother and mother. Maybe they lost their sister or—she was killed or something. If there’s someone with that background who crossed paths with all three of our victims, then, we investigate them. ”

“I could check the database for past offenders who fit the profile.”

“Right.” Dickson tipped her head in my direction. “If Noa’s profile is correct, the odds this is the first time our guy ever acted out are slim. He may not be calculated and methodical, but he’s thought it through. Enough to bring a dead snake to the place he abducted them.”

“And the Serpent Killer?” Reuben didn’t want to give up on the cold case.

Dickson shot a look my way.

I dropped my gaze. I knew her decision potentially affected me, but I really didn’t think I was tied to this in any way.

“Shelve it,” Dickson concluded.

“Wait—” Reuben protested .

“For now.” Dickson stated with authority. “If we find a tie, we reopen it. But right now, we have one dead victim and two others still unaccounted for. Let’s try to bring them home.”

I winced.

I lifted my head and looked to where Sophia had been standing.

She was gone.

In her place, I saw Rosalie, and behind Rosalie, was Lilian. Both of them looked intently at me and I felt their challenge emanating from their eyes. When I saw them blink, I was startled. Unlike Sophia, whose eyes were always glassy, Rosalie and Lilian looked— alive.

Be our voice . Sophia’s whisper tickled my ear.

I didn’t dare look at Reuben or Dickson. If they had any idea that in my world, we weren’t alone in this conference room, they would toss my theory out the window.

Be our voice, Rosalie mouthed the words.

They will listen , Lilian confirmed.

“And they listened to you?” Livia sounded shocked as she served me a plate of steamed broccoli and chicken alfredo. It smelled delicious—well, the alfredo did.

“For now, anyway.” I’d just taken her through today’s events at the station.