Death is a fearful thing.
—William Shakespeare.
I almost feel like even a week won’t be enough. Not that I’ll actually be able to take a week. I’ll be lucky to get a few days, regardless of the fact my girlfriend was almost killed tonight.
My stomach is in knots just thinking of everything that could have gone wrong.
We’re inside the hotel room before I put Lana down for the first time. Checking in was a pain in the ass, but Lana just took my wallet from my pocket, and handed the very curious woman behind the counter whatever she asked for in sequence.
I can tell she hasn’t let the gravity of the situation sink in yet. She’s too calm. I want to be here for her when it does catch up.
She killed a man tonight. A man almost killed her.
And it’s all my fault.
She curls up on the bed, exhaustion weighing heavily in her eyes.
As soon as I’m down to my boxers, I join her, thankful she’s letting me touch her. If he’d…
I can’t keep thinking of everything that could have gone wrong. Hadley is a trained agent and still couldn’t go home alone. She came to a hotel where someone would hear her if she screamed for help.
Lana has to be on the verge of breaking down. She’s just a civilian with no training.
“I’m so sorry,” I say against her hair.
She hums, scooting back into me.
“Not your fault,” she mumbles.
“I knew my job was toxic for relationships, but I naively never thought it’d put you in danger,” I say softly, wondering if she’s already asleep when she doesn’t respond.
She rolls over, facing me, her eyes fighting to stay open.
“If you’re trying to break up with me after I just survived the Boogeyman, I may kick your ass.”
She says the words with dry humor, but I can see the vulnerable look in her eyes.
“I probably should, to be honest. But I’m too selfish to let you go,” I tell her honestly.
She brushes her lips against mine, and she sighs as she snuggles in closer. “I feel the exact same way. I can’t let you go, no matter how much better I feel you deserve.”
I deserve better? She was targeted by a sexual sadist because of me. She was attacked because I didn’t call the patrol one night to make sure they were in place. She was almost hurt because I failed her.
No. She was hurt. Not almost.
The bruises on her face and split lip tell that story plain and clear.
My phone chimes as Lana’s breathing evens out, and I listen to her sleep, holding her to me like I’m worried it’s all an illusion. Worried I’ll wake up tomorrow to realize I’ve had a psychotic break and am now living in my head—in a world where Lana survived.
I read the text from Craig.
CRAIG: Your girl fought back hard enough to leave some bruises on him too. Coroner said it couldn’t have been easy, since he was solid muscle. She’s tougher than you think. Stop beating yourself up.
ME: When your girlfriend almost dies because of a serial killer targeting you, then talk to me.
CRAIG: Touché. How is she?
ME: I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. She’s sleeping right now.
CRAIG: BTW, I know you want time off, but…I sort of found something major.
ME: Fuck. What?
My phone rings, but Lana doesn’t even stir. I answer reluctantly.
“So, this little town is covering up the fact there was a serial killer ten years ago. Sexual sadist much like our dearly departed Boogeyman.”
“Too soon,” I state dryly.
“Right. Sorry. But there’s literally not one mention of this ever in their papers.”
“What does the serial killer have to do with anything?”
“That’s the thing, it doesn’t look like they put away the right guy.”
I slowly sit up, careful not to disturb Lana. I’d normally go to another room, but not right now.
“What?”
“The Godfather profiled him to be in his mid-thirties to early forties, and a blue collared worker. But Leonard—yes, I called him first—said that it didn’t make sense. The guy was well organized, and displayed psychopathic tendencies when he killed. The women were brutally assaulted perimortem, antemortem, and postmortem. This guy was seriously into annihilating the body.”
“What’d he do?”
“In short, he carved them up, with a serrated knife, then drilled nails into their foreheads. It started off being mostly after they died. Then it started happening before they were dead. He developed into a true heartless bastard.”
“He’s a psychopath with sadistic tendencies. Not a sexual sadist. Sounds like sex was an afterthought. What does this have to do with our killer? I admit it sounds crazy to have another serial killer from that town, but this is obviously not a copycat situation. Our unsub’s motivation is revenge.”
“That’s what I was saying. I think the Godfather locked up the wrong guy. Serial killers rarely have kids. Psychopaths rarely have kids. Hell, ninety percent of all unsubs are childless because they can’t form healthy relationships long enough to have children. The guy they locked away was a doting father of two kids. Single parent too. His wife died five years earlier in a car accident. His kids were never late to school or neglected in anyway. They argued how impossible it was that he was the killer, claiming he was home with them every night and helping make supper as a family.”
“Why did he get pinned with it then?”
“DNA. They found his jizz at the crime scenes.”
“Way to be professional. But that is pretty incriminating.”
“Or brilliant. Who gets off on controlling a situation?”
“Narcissists. You think the killer was a narcissist?”
“Maybe it’s because of the Boogeyman thing still being so fresh, but yes. I think there was a whatever you said with some narcissism tossed in there. I think the true killer framed our guy. Why else would someone so organized blatantly leave behind DNA? And get this, they found two types of spermicide on each victim.”
“But spermicide is from condoms. If he left behind sperm, then why wear a condom?”
“Sounds like questions that should have been asked ten years ago. Anyway, he had two kids, but they’re no longer in Delaney Grove. There was an accident that happened shortly after their father was found dead in the county holding cell.”
“What?” I ask, confused. “What happened in the holding cell?”
“Yeah. Robert Evans died the day he was convicted. The coroner’s report had three words: He hung himself. Legit, that’s all it says. Then the kids went missing two nights later.”
“Fuuuuck. What happened?”
“I had to dig deep to find the report, because they went to a hospital five towns over. Long way to drive for a doctor when one is right in town. Supposedly there was a car accident, but the boy—seventeen—had severe signs of sexual trauma, and get this…he was castrated.”
I swallow the bile in my throat. “That’s our unsub.”
“You’d think. But unless he’s killing as a zombie, it’s not possible. He died that night in the hospital after somehow managing to drive him and his sister there, despite his injuries. If he drove from Delaney Grove… Hell, I don’t know how he didn’t die from the blood loss alone. The sister was beat to hell and back, stabbed multiple times, face caved in, a huge piece of glass sticking out of her. She had severe signs of sexual trauma too, but she claimed it was a car accident, just like he did. It’s noted they were too scared to speak, and the girl died later that night from complications. That’s all I could charm out of a helpful nurse without a warrant.”
My hand runs over the scar on Lana’s side, even though it’s covered by her clothing. Lana is sleeping hard, not noticing the way I touch her. The glass part strikes a nerve, reminding how she’s actually come close to dying twice now.
I’m going to put her in a bubble.
“That’s fucked up. All of it is fucked up. Get those case files. Why have I never heard of this before?”
“It never made headline news because of some terrorist threat that was going on at the same time. If they locked up the wrong guy—”
“Then that means there’s another serial killer who has had ten more years to pile up a body count. And it also could have set the dominoes in motion for this revenge killing spree. Small town justice is always an issue. We usually have to transport prisoners ourselves, but….why the kids? How sick is that town?”
“The girl was just sixteen at the time. The boy had a scholarship to a drama program in New York. They were leaving town eventually. I know that town put them in that hospital. That’s why they drove far away from it to die. The guy might have survived if he’d stopped sooner. But he didn’t. He just drove as far as he could to get them away from Delaney Grove. I can’t prove it, but my gut is telling me that’s what happened.”
“Talk to the town. See what you can figure out.”
He grows quiet. For a long time.
“Any chance he won’t take innocent bystanders down?”
“The unsub?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Revenge killers always take it too far, killing too many people for the smallest infractions. Don’t try to make him a hero. He may kill some monsters, but he’ll take out some good people too. And no one has the right to decide who lives or dies.”
I’m not entirely sure I’m convinced of that even as the words leave my mouth. If Lana had died at the hands of Plemmons, I would have stalked the world until I found him and put him in the grave.
I don’t say that aloud though.
“Right. You’re right. I just… These cases are always the hardest.”
“You empathize with the killers when you understand their motives. I get it. Just don’t forget we’re the law. If everyone goes around killing people who’ve wronged them, then we’re suddenly an extinct species. It’s obviously someone close to them. Dig into their pasts. Dig into Lindy’s past too. She was friends with the unsub.”
“On it. Leonard is working it too now. Elise is at the hotel you guys are at. Apparently everyone is creeped out by their houses right now since Plemmons broke into Lana’s and locked Hadley in a closet.”
My hand instinctively tightens on Lana’s hip, and she stirs in her sleep.
“I’m getting some sleep. I’m taking at least a few days, and I mean it. I need several days of straight sleep.”
“And straight sex,” he quips.
Rolling my eyes, I hang up, curl up behind Lana, and she shifts in closer subconsciously, still very much asleep. She’s not screaming or tossing around. There’s a small smile on her lips like all is right with the world.
Thank fuck for that small miracle.
She’s so damn strong. I was waiting on her to break, but she’s impressing me more by the second.
“I love you,” she says, though it’s the confession of a sleeping girl.
My core still tightens, and my body feels like electric wires are coursing over the top of my skin.
Leaning down, I kiss her cheek, smiling as she sighs. And even though I’d rather stay awake and keep my eyes on her all night, the long days finally catch up to me, and I fall asleep with her in my arms.
