This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 Jordan Johnstone

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

Cover and book design by Think Box Creative

The Mirror Stage

“…the subject is comprised of lack, the lack of being that results from the subject’s dependence on the Other. The Other is the place where the subject is born.”

- Jacques Lacan: Modern cultural theorists by Madan Sarup

Table of Contents

• Copyright

• The Mirror Stage

• Table of Contents

• Chapter One

• Chapter Two

• Chapter Three

• Chapter Four

• Chapter Five

• Chapter Six

• Chapter Seven

• Chapter Eight

• Chapter Nine

• Chapter Ten

• Chapter Eleven

• Chapter Twelve

• Chapter Thirteen

• Chapter Fourteen

• Chapter Fifteen

• Acknowledgements

CHAPTER 1

The floors creaked like ancient joints beneath Mary Brandt’s feet. Her short harsh breaths sounded like roars in the silent blackness of the unlit hallway. A floorboard protested beneath her weight, and she froze, listening. Nothing. Mary continued down the hallway, intent on reaching the door waiting at the end.

With a gentle turn of the worn brass doorknob, Mary nudged the old wooden door open. The bottom scraped against the floor, and every muscle in her body tensed. Her over-sensitized ears waited for a sign that she had been discovered. Still nothing. In one fluid motion, she slipped into the room and shut the door.

She leaned back against the door and squeezed her eyes shut. Why had she decided to poke around in the garage? Why had she opened the trunk? Why had she not seen her husband spread-eagle in drunken sleep on the garage couch? She shook her head, and a vivid focus pierced through the frightened fog. Her sole thought: get her daughter and get them as far away as possible.

Across the room, a bleary-eyed little girl rose groggily from a mountain of pink bedding and stared blankly at Mary.

“Mommy?” asked six-year-old Ada Brandt. She untangled her tiny limbs from her sheets.

Mary crossed the room in two strides to ensure her daughter did not leave the bed. “Whisper, baby.”

“Is Daddy asleep?”

“Yes, so let’s not wake him,” Mary said with a tight smile. She tucked a piece of hair behind Ada’s ear. “Are you feeling better?”

Ada nodded and studied her mother’s face with a level of scrutiny way beyond her six years. “Are you OK, Mommy? You look sad,” she whispered, resting a hand against her mother’s cheek.

Mary squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden sting of tears. She clutched Ada’s hand for a moment. A brief creak in the hallway triggered a violent jolt in Mary’s body. She whipped her head to the door.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Ada asked, feeding off of her mother’s apprehension.

“Ada,” Mary whispered, “let’s play a game. Does that sound like fun?”

Ada frowned, her worry replaced with wariness. Her mother had just suggested doing something that Ada knew to be explicitly not allowed. “You want to play a game in the middle of the night,” she said, almost daring her mother to take back her words.

Mary stood from Ada’s bed and smoothed her sweaty palms against her night gown. “Just this once. How about hide and seek?” Ada nodded with a giant grin. “I’ll count first,” Mary grinned back.

Pure delight washed over Ada’s tiny face. She slipped off her bed and tucked herself underneath, hidden by the edge of the comforter. A few seconds later, she poked her head back out to give her mother an eye roll. “You’re supposed to start counting now,” she whispered.

Mary crouched down and lovingly cupped Ada’s rosy cheeks in her hands. She studied her daughter’s face for a few moments, memorizing every curve and shape.

“Mommy! Count!” Ada insisted, wriggling in her mother’s touch.

“You know I love you, sweetheart. Right?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Ada replied in an impatient sing-song.

Mary leaned down and tenderly kissed both of Ada’s cheeks and between her eyebrows.

Another creak sounded in the hallway, closer to the door this time. Mary inhaled sharply and glanced nervously between the door and Ada.

“I want you to hide,” Mary instructed, “and do not come out from under this bed until you hear me say ‘ten.’ Understand?”

Ada rolled her eyes again. “I know how to play. I’m six, you know.”

Mary grinned. “Yes, baby, I know.”

The two stared at each other for a brief moment. Ada wondered why it was taking so long to start the game; Mary wondered if she could just freeze this moment forever.

“Mary?” a gruff male voice called from right outside the door.

Ada broke out a giant grin. “Daddy’s playing too?”

Mary gently guided Ada to go back to her hiding spot under the bed. “No, we’re going to play without him.”

Ada disappeared beneath the bed with a giggle. Mary stood and turned to face the door. She watched the knob slowly turn as she counted. “One ... two ...”

_____

From under the bed, Ada watched her bedroom door whip open. She saw her father’s feet walk in. Her mother was still counting. She was up to “five” now.

“What are you doing?” Ada’s father, Jacob, hissed.

“Six ... se-seven ...” Mary counted, backing up against Ada’s bed.

In one swift move, Jacob lurched into Ada’s room, causing Mary to cry out. The comforter from the bed fell to the floor as Jacob dragged Mary toward the door by her hair.

Ada listened, tears dropping down her cheeks to the carpet, as her mother struggled with her father. She did not move from her hiding place under the bed, just as her mother had ordered.

“Why, Jacob, why?” Mary shrieked as she landed a solid kick into her husband’s torso.

“You know why,” Jacob grunted as he dragged her from the room.

Ada watched her father’s feet trudge from the room. For one heart-stopping moment, Ada locked eyes with her mother. Mary mouthed something to Ada, and then she was gone, the bedroom door slammed shut.

For a few moments, Mary’s shrieks relentlessly filled Ada’s ears. Then there was silence.

And then came the wave of intense panic.

“MOMMY!”

_____

25 YEARS LATER - SEATTLE, WA

Ada bolted upright in bed, her caramel brown hair stuck to her face like papier-mâché strips. Her bedroom was cloaked in darkness and the silence in the room was so thick, it was almost physically heavy.

Her bedside phone dock read 2:45AM. Ada squinted at it for a few seconds as she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. She pivoted in bed and placed her feet on the cool wood floor. The sudden chill was a welcome shock.

With shaking hands, Ada wiped the sweaty strands of wavy hair from her face then pitched forward and sank her head into her palms.

“Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream,” she chanted over and over.

Gradually, her breathing returned to normal, her hands stopped their tremors, and her heart beat a regular rhythm. Ada sagged back into bed and pulled her covers against her sweat-chilled body.

It was October 5. Two days until the 25th anniversary of that night. After a 20-year hiatus, the dreams had started again.

Ada rolled to her side and studied a framed picture on the bedside table. She was four years old, being pushed on a tree swing by her mother. Her mother was beaming in the photo, her eyes squinting like Ada’s did when something was truly bemusing.

As she lay facing the picture, a gnawing sadness brewed in the pit of her stomach. When the picture became unbearable, Ada rolled to her back and focused her attention on the ceiling.

“What’s past is past, look only ahead,” Ada whispered. She clenched one hand over the other and pushed them against her stomach. “What’s past is past, look only ahead,” she squeezed her eyes shut, repeating the mantra over and over.

A loud bark sounded outside her bedroom door. Ada’s eyes snapped open. She winced as sunlight poured into them. Confused, she tossed a look at the clock. 7:32AM.

“Dammit!” Ada cried and lunged from bed. She hurried to her bedroom door and opened it. Sitting outside the door was Tiny, a Harlequin Great Dane with a severe lack of patience.

“Thanks for the wake-up call, buddy,” Ada said as she gave the dog’s head a quick pat.

Not amused, Tiny stood and trotted down the hallway.

Ada rolled her eyes and shuffled after him.

_____

Tiny was waiting for her at the back door when Ada reached the kitchen. He nudged the door knob with his snout then sat back on his laurels waiting for her to take the hint.

“Look, rough night, all right? A little compassion would be awesome,” Ada said as she unlocked the door to let Tiny go about his morning business. Once he had lunged outside, she shut the door and set about making some coffee and preparing Tiny’s morning mound of food.

A few minutes later, Tiny was back inside and snout-deep in kibble. Ada left him to his meal and made her way back to her bedroom, taking sips of coffee along the way. She rushed through her morning routine, attempting to make up for the lost hour that nightmare had cost her this morning.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in slacks and a crisp white blouse, she snatched her phone from her bedside table and slipped into her favorite pair of leather loafers. She paused for a moment to assess her image in the mirror. Her porcelain complexion looked a bit sallow in the early morning light. Her high cheekbones were becoming a little more prominent than they should. She gave her cheeks a good pinch, trying to muster some color back to them.

“These dark circles are not a good look,” she muttered as she studied her tired hazel eyes.

Ada glanced at the time on her phone and cursed under her breath. She set off at a jog toward the garage.

_____

Tiffany Rogers watched from the top of the stairs of the Fine Arts Building of Seattle University as her colleague and best friend Ada pulled her red British sport coupe into its assigned parking spot. Tiffany attempted to suppress her chuckles as she watched Ada struggle to gather all necessary items into her arms and juggle them as she hurried toward the building.

“I’m sure I don’t need to let you know what time it is,” Tiffany said with a smirk.

“No, you don’t,” Ada said as she rushed up the stairs to the building’s double doors.

“I’m just saying, I’m the blonde one here. And this is the third day in the past couple of weeks that you’ve really cut it close.” Tiffany quickened her pace to match Ada’s mad dash.

“Has Bridges said anything?” Ada asked as she and Tiffany entered the building. The last thing Ada needed was a verbal lashing from Alfred Bridges, her boss and the dean of the College of Arts and Sciences.

“I don’t think anyone has tattled on you yet,” Tiffany said.

Ada rolled her eyes and ascended the wide stairs in the lobby. A few students were mingling in the second floor halls, but the class dismissal deluge had yet to release. Ada and Tiffany ducked into Ada’s classroom right as Ada’s phone buzzed with its 15-minute warning alarm.

Tiffany closed the classroom door and switched on the lights as Ada dumped the items from her arms onto her desk. “Can you get the overhead, too?” she asked Tiffany as she pulled out her laptop and set it up.

A giant projector screen began its descent from the ceiling as the overhead projector clicked to life. Tiffany tossed herself into one of the front row seats and pulled out her phone.

“So, I have this friend,” Tiffany said.

“Congratulations.” Ada tossed a glance at Tiffany, who stuck out her tongue in response.

“No, but really, this friend of mine ... I want you to meet him.”

“Him? Tiff, what have I said about this?”

“I understand you don’t have the greatest track record with guys, but that doesn’t mean every man in this city is a zero.”

“Well, the only ones that seem to bother with me all have a pretty proven track record. So, my answer is still no.”

Tiffany waved a dismissive hand at Ada then scrolled through her phone. “Geez,” she said, sitting forward in her seat.

“Were you expecting me to say yes?” Ada asked as she walked over to Tiffany and sat down in the seat beside her.

Puzzled, Tiffany looked at her for a moment then shook her head. “No, not you. Have you heard about these murders?”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“Four women have been killed in the past couple of weeks near Seattle and on Whidbey Island, mainly near Langley,” Tiffany said as she scrolled furiously through the news story. “Apparently, the FBI is getting called in.”

“Well, that’s not surprising. It’s not like Seattle PD has much experience with serial killers,” Ada said. “Do they have any suspects?”

Tiffany read for a moment then shook her head.

Ada swept her arms out and gracefully lunged from her seat. She tapped Tiffany’s knee. “This room is about to get slammed. You better hit the road,” she said as she walked back to her desk.

“I can’t believe you aren’t fascinated with this, Professor Greene,” Tiffany snorted as she stood, still reading the story on her phone.

The classroom door opened and a handful of students strode in. “I’ll find you after class, all right?” Ada called to Tiffany as she left the room.

“Meet you in your office,” Tiffany said over her shoulder, still preoccupied with the phone.

Ada smirked at her friend’s back then quickly put on her teacher face.

“I hope you all had a chance to make your revisions,” Ada said as students filled up the classroom. This was met with a unified groan, which Ada replied to with a grin. “Let’s split up into groups of four. Everyone needs to read the first four pages of their pieces to their group and then get feedback. I’ll be here if you need me.”

_____

“Professor Greene?”

Ada glanced up from her computer screen and quickly minimized the serial killer news story. “Yes?”

Abigail, a sophomore from Oregon and way too bubbly for her own good, was shifting her weight from foot to foot in front of Ada’s desk. The rest of the classroom had cleared out within thirty seconds of the dismissal bell. Ada had assumed she was alone in the classroom.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” Abigail asked.

Ada gave her a fake grin and closed her laptop lid. “Not at all. What can I help you with?”

Abigail pulled a paperback from the stack of items in her arms and placed it gingerly next to Ada’s laptop. The book had seen much better days. Layers of sales stickers in the top right corner of the cover revealed its journey.

“The River. Wow, I haven’t seen one of these in a while,” Ada murmured. She picked up the mystery novel and glanced reluctantly at the bottom of the cover. ‘Ada Greene’ glared back at her in an ugly green font.

“I found it in a bookstore in town that was having a going-out-of-business sale.”

Ada gave a rueful grin and held the book back to Abigail. “That’s fitting,” she whispered to herself.

Abigail fished a pen out of her purse and held it toward Ada. “I know this is probably really stupid, but I was wondering if maybe you could sign it?”

Swallowing the sheer disgust that had boiled up in her throat, Ada took Abigail’s pen and quickly scribbled her signature on the book’s front page. “Congratulations on being the eleventh person to purchase this.”

“Oh, I’m sure more people than that bought it,” Abigail breathed, beaming as Ada handed her the paperback. She cradled the book in her hands like a piece of gold. “I’m such a huge fan, Professor. I wish I could get my imagery as vivid as yours.”

“Just keep writing, you’ll find your groove soon enough.” Ada wanted nothing more than to run to her office and curl up into a miserable ball. The last thing she’d expected was to have her failed writing career literally pushed in front of her face today. She much preferred discussing the writing process with students. Tina Lancaster came to mind. The after-class discussions the two of them had shared validated Ada’s decision to go into teaching and have a hand in shaping the next generation of writers to do what she had been unable to: sell.

“Do you have anything new coming out soon?” Abigail pressed, a painfully eager glimmer in her eyes that Ada couldn’t help but equate to a fawn.

“Sorry, no,” Ada replied quickly. She stood from her chair and made a show of packing up her things. Thankfully, Abigail took the hint.

“That’s a shame. Well, I’ve got to get to speech. Professor Douglas will probably fail me if I’m late again.” Abigail let out a slightly crazed chuckle. “Thank you again for the autograph!”

Ada smiled and nodded at Abigail as she trotted out of the classroom. As soon as she was out of sight, Ada’s mouth relaxed with a loud sigh. She was glad she had remembered to toss her boxing gear in the trunk the night before. She felt a much-needed date with a punching bag coming on.

CHAPTER 2

JAB. CROSS. JAB JAB. CROSS.

Ada floated around the punching bag as her gloves made solid and quick contact with the bag’s crinkled skin. Her breath wheezed out of her lungs, but Ada pushed through it. She landed precise left and right hooks in rapid succession, inwardly loving the solid THWACKS that sounded in the near-empty gym.

“Can you turn that up?” Tiffany called to the front desk clerk.

The clerk glared at her for a moment but turned up the gym TV volume so that it overpowered the thumping gym music.

Ada paused for a moment as her breath whistled out of her mouth. “Now you’re just obsessing,” she gasped then went to her gym bag and dug around for her water bottle.

Tiffany watched a news segment on the recent murders, ignoring Ada’s jibe. “I can’t believe this doesn’t freak you out at all, Ada.”

“Why should it?” Ada asked as she wiped a towel over her sweat-soaked face and neck.

Tiffany turned away from the TV, shaking her head. “I just can’t believe we have a serial killer here.”

Ada tossed the towel over her shoulder and picked up her gym bag. “Lock your doors and make sure to have one of your boyfriends on standby,” she joked.

“I’ll see if I can round somebody up to spend the night or something.”

“So you can sleep soundly?” Ada sneered.

Tiffany shrugged, a Cheshire cat grin spreading across her lips. “That’s all they need to know.”

Ada shook her head and headed for the gym door. “And you wonder why the thought of being in a relationship makes me squirm,” she said. “You just cast such a romantic light on everything.”

Tiffany followed her out the door with a chuckle. “So, I’ll see you for coffee in the morning?”

“Sure. You’re buying.”

“Whatever. Don’t be late!”

“Hilarious,” Ada said then tossed her gym bag in the back of the car and slammed the trunk shut.

Tiffany gave her a small wave before getting into her car and driving away.

_____

“Authorities are cautioning women in the Seattle area to stay indoors after dark—”

Ada mashed the power button on the car radio and shook her head. “I just can’t get away from it,” she muttered.

The Seattle streets were beginning to die down as 10:00PM drew close. Ada loved this time of day. Everything went from loud and crazy to docile and sleepy.

As Ada turned onto her street, her phone went off, breaking the comforting silence in the car. Ada picked it up and grinned as she brought it to her ear. “Hey, Uncle Mike.”

“Ada-bug! How’s my favorite niece?” Mike Brandt said, his voice cracking slightly in the phone speaker.

“Tired and sore,” Ada said, turning into her driveway. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Eh, I’m living a little,” Mike chuckled. “Hey, how about you and that big goofball come to my house for dinner tomorrow night? I’ll cook your favorite.”

“Steak and potatoes?”

“You bet. I might even cook a steak or two for Tiny.”

Ada stepped out of her car and made her way up the sidewalk to the front door. “What’s the occasion? New book getting published? Girlfriend? Finally win the lottery?”

Mike let out an offended gasping laugh. “Can’t a man just want to have dinner with his niece?”

“Not when that man is you,” Ada replied as she walked into her house and shut the door behind her. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me. I’ll just try to act surprised.”

Tiny trotted up to Ada and leaned his head against her leg as she scratched his ear.

“Great! Be here at eight,” Uncle Mike said. “Can’t wait to see you. It’s been a while.”

Ada felt a sad smile tug at her lips. “I know, Uncle Mike. I’m sorry we haven’t been to see you.”

“Oh, stop. I wasn’t trying to guilt trip you,” Uncle Mike assured her. “All right, I’ll let you go. I know you have class in the morning. I’ll see ya tomorrow, kiddo.”

“Night.” Ada ended the call and ran a hand over her tired eyes. She hoped sleep wouldn’t evade her tonight.

Ada made sure the porch lights were on then left the foyer and turned down the hallway to her bedroom. Tiny followed her into the room and made himself comfy on his pillow bed.

Ada smiled at him as she sat down on the bed to take off her shoes. “So you’ve decided sleeping in here is OK now?” She crossed the room to his place under the window and scratched his ear, smiling as he leaned into the touch. “No bad report from Jess today. I guess you let her walk you today instead of the other way around?”

Tiny let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.

_____

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” Tina Lancaster called over her shoulder to her friends. They had all just exited the Langley Main Street Coffee Shop and broke ranks to head for their cars.

“Be careful, T,” one of her friends called back.

Tina waved and crossed the empty street to her parked car, car keys in hand. Surveying her surroundings, she quickly opened the driver door and slid inside the car, locking the doors immediately.

Her friends drove past her and waved furiously. Tina grinned and waved back as she started her car. The radio blasted the last few seconds of one of her favorite songs.

Tina put the car in gear and pulled off down the street. The song ended and the radio announcer came on.

“Again, we’d like to encourage all women in the area to be on the lookout for any suspicious behavior. Stay in large groups if you are out tonight, and be sure to lock all entrances to your home. If you see anything out of the ordinary, please be sure to call the Langley Police Department. Now, back to the music.”

Tina gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as she drove down a dark side street. She had always been an overly cautious person, but with the recent murders, her guard was raised even higher. She glanced in her side view mirrors as she reached the Main Street four-way stop.

Tina activated the left turn signal and looked around the intersection. She glanced in her mirrors again then glanced up in her rearview mirror.

A masked face with only the eyes visible looked back at her in the mirror.

Tina’s mouth opened to scream as a gloved hand clamped down on it. Another gloved hand reached past her to place the car in park.

Tina could not pull her eyes away from the figure in the backseat. She thrashed around in her seat as she tried in vain to pull out of the vice grip on her mouth.

She heard a click and her seat belt flew off of her. The free hand pulled her into the backseat. The last thing she saw was a balled fist coming down to smash into the side of her head.

_____

Ada stifled a yawn as she gathered up the neat stack of assignments. She stood from her desk and walked up and down the rows of glassy-eyed students.

“Not a bad round of revisions, folks,” Ada said. She reached one student’s seat and held out the paper. No one grabbed it from her.

She glanced down at the empty seat then looked for the name at the top of the quiz. “Does anyone know if Tina is coming today?”

CHAPTER 3

The crisp autumn air gave an extra bite to the breeze created by the speed of the ferry. Ada relished it. She had always regarded fall as the best time of the year. Fall meant apples, pumpkins, and more sleep.

The upper deck of the Clinton-Mukilteo ferry was empty, except for Ada. The sun was beginning to set, tinting the water a warm amber tone. Below Ada, cars sat silently in their rows. Most people chose to remain in their vehicles while on the ferry, the novelty of this form of transit lost to them. Ada had grown up taking this ferry every week, and she still got excited at the idea of going up to the top of the boat to take in the sights.

On the adjacent deck, a little girl no more than five years old ran up to the railing, pointing at a flock of seagulls flapping after the ship. The girl’s parents followed her out onto the deck, warning the girl to keep both feet on the deck. When the father caught up with his daughter, he hoisted the little girl up onto his shoulders. The mother quickly warned him to be careful.

Ada watched the pure wonderment light up the little girl’s face as she gaped at the wide expanse of water around them. She had been that girl years ago with Uncle Mike, riding back home after a day in the city. Those seagulls had provided her with endless entertainment as they bobbed and weaved in the wind behind the boat.

The little girl gave her father a quick peck on the top of his head and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. A pang of something hit Ada. She knew it wasn’t envy of the girl. It wasn’t even nostalgia for the times that she had done just that to her uncle. Ada was not entirely shocked to realize she longed to be in the mother’s shoes, watching her daughter interact with her father.

Why do you do this to yourself, Ada wondered as she turned to head back inside. Family had been something of a mystery to Ada all her life. Her own was certainly not something that would be called desirable. When she was younger, Ada had detested sleepovers and birthday parties. She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that a child had a mother and father who doted on them and made sure they knew they were the most loved human being on the planet. She’d lived through a special kind of hell as a result of who her family was. It would be understandable to never want to voluntarily place herself in a family environment again.

Yet, once her friends got married and started producing adorable miniature versions of themselves, Ada felt something in her heart begin to ache. She longed to cradle a swaddled bundle of newborn to her chest. Every time she played with Tiny in the backyard, she always pictured a child or two running around with the Dane.

Children were not what scared her about family. A husband was a concept that made Ada’s skin crawl. Mary Brandt had loved Jacob Brandt. Uncle Mike had told Ada how her mother’s eyes would light up as soon as Jacob entered the room. How could someone that in love be that blind to who a person really was? Ada suspected love itself had been the deceiver. To think that love could shield a person’s true self from the person vowing to bond with them was deterrent enough for Ada.

The approaching dock announcement broke through her thoughts. Ada descended the metal stairs and made her way back to her waiting car. Tiny barked in greeting as she got in and buckled up.

“Hungry?” Ada asked as she started the car. “Hopefully Uncle Mike hasn’t lost his flair with steak.”

_____

Mike Brandt loved his life on Whidbey Island. After years in the Seattle FBI office, he had retreated to Whidbey with his six-year-old niece to start a new life, a fresh start for both of them. Leaving a cramped Seattle condo and transitioning into island life had been the healing medicine they both needed.

When Mike had driven them up to their new house for the first time, he knew he was home. The house sat on almost an acre, a rarity in his area of the island. Thick woods offered invaluable privacy, and behind the house was a small stretch of clearing that ended with a cliff and a 100 foot drop. But the view of Puget Sound was worth the potential danger.

Ada had spent endless hours sitting by that ledge watching the ships pass through the Sound against priceless Washington sunsets over the mountains in the distance. Mike loved standing on the back porch and watching his niece experience something innocent for a change. To this day, he was convinced that the island had saved Ada’s life.

Now a 65-year-old man, Mike enjoyed a life that revolved around writing his latest crime novel, visiting the stony beach, or heading into town to converse with the locals. A far cry from his days bustling around Seattle solving FBI matters, but it was a difference Mike embraced.

Car tires crunched up the winding driveway, breaking Mike’s moment of reflection. He stood from the porch swing and walked down the porch steps as Ada’s car pulled up to the house. Mike laughed at Tiny, whose giant head was dangling out of the passenger window, taking in giant gulps of the island air.

“He must smell a squirrel,” Mike chuckled as Ada climbed out of the car and released Tiny from the passenger seat. The dog bounded up to Mike, leaping up and planting his giant front paws on his shoulders.

“Tiny, calm down!” Ada chided. She walked up to Tiny and Mike and yanked at Tiny’s collar. The dog reluctantly released Mike from his embrace and sat obediently at Ada’s side.

“Oh, he’s just excited to see me,” Mike said as he wrapped Ada in a warm embrace. “How are you, Ada-bug?”

Ada grinned against his shoulder. “Better now that a home-cooked meal is in my near future.”

“Do I want to hear how long it’s been since you cooked?”

“It’s pretty much been take-out for the past few weeks.”

Mike groaned and steered Ada toward the house. “Well, I’m going to see to it that you get a nice square meal tonight. Same goes for you, too,” he said over his shoulder to Tiny.

The dog’s tail wagged furiously as he followed the two inside.

_____

“Do you need help with anything?” Ada asked as Mike hurried into the kitchen. She followed him, taking in all the pictures that lined the walls of the house. Uncle Mike had been a stickler for taking pictures when she was growing up. She had hated it at the time, but now she was glad these snapshots existed.

“I’m just going to throw these steaks on the grill,” Mike said as he opened the back door. Ada and Tiny followed after him.

Mike carefully opened the grill lid and placed the slabs of meat onto the rack. The steaks hit with a sharp hiss. Mike shut the lid and turned to watch Tiny leap around the back yard.

“I guess he was cooped up a little too long, huh?” Mike said as he sat down in one of the Adirondack chairs facing the glistening waters of Puget Sound.

Ada sat down in the chair next to his and pulled her knees up to her chest. “He’s been kind of stir crazy lately. I really haven’t had time to walk him much,” she said, “It’s just a crazy time at the college right now.”

“Midterms?” Mike asked.

Ada nodded and whistled for Tiny to come lay down by her chair. “This is one of the times of the academic year I dread. So many manuscripts. I wish I was the one writing instead of grading.”

Mike chuckled. “You’re the one who chose an academic career over law enforcement.”

Ada tossed a glare at him. “I know. I don’t regret the choice.”

“Oh, come on. The FBI wouldn’t have been such a terrible profession.”

“I might have considered it if I hadn’t spent my childhood hearing about … what did you call it? Oh, right, that soul-sucking excuse for a career,” Ada said as she gazed out at the setting sun.

Mike grunted and stood up to flip the steaks. “It wasn’t all that bad. But it was also time for me to go.”

A tinge of sadness touched Ada’s face and she looked down at her hands to regain her composure. “I can’t believe tomorrow is twenty-five years,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Mike flipped the steaks and closed the lid again. He squeezed a hand around Ada’s shoulder before taking his seat.

“You’re welcome to stay here, you know. Maybe call in sick tomorrow,” he said as he reached over and took her hand in his.

Ada gripped his hand and sighed, “That’ll just make it worse.” She looked out at the setting sun. “I just need to stick to my routine. That’ll make it just another day, nothing special.”

“All right. The offer still stands if you change your mind.”

They simultaneously turned their attention to the spectacular sunset painting the sky and water with swirls of pink and purple. Ada let her mind wander, an action she typically banned herself from performing around this time of the year. Thinking back to that day inevitably led to anger, nagging questions and a couple pints of comfort ice cream. A flash of panic coursed through her as she remembered her uncle’s penchant for commemorating this time of the year by reciting the events of the day that he had become her world, after her old one was swiftly decimated around her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mike take a deep breath and lace his fingers together, his classic storytelling pose, and she acted quickly. “I think those steaks are done.” Ada sniffed the air for emphasis.

Mike grunted as he rose from his seat to grab the steaks off the grill.

Ada sighed in relief and stood up to head inside, motioning for Tiny to follow.

_____

Ada placed the last bite of steak in her mouth and closed her eyes in satisfaction. “I think those are the best you’ve made,” she told Mike.

The older man chuckled and downed his last sip of water. “You say that every time!”

“Well, it’s been true every time. You keep improving,” Ada said. She glanced down at Tiny, who was lying in the corner of the dining room, out cold. “I think you gave Tiny a food coma.”

“Poor pup. What have you been feeding him anyway?”

“Whatever’s on sale,” Ada retorted and raised a hand immediately to halt her uncle’s response. “No judging. You should see how quickly he goes through a fifty pound bag.”

Mike rolled his eyes and leaned across the table to collect Ada’s dish. She swatted his hand away and stood to collect their dishes.

“Go relax. I’ll clean up,” she said.

“You don’t have to—,” Mike started to protest but Ada held up a finger.

“Go.”

Mike’s hands went up in surrender as he pushed his chair away from the table. As he rose from his chair, he craned his neck to look outside, scanning the front of the house.

Ada noticed as she stacked the dishes. “Expecting someone?”

“What? No, no. Just ... thought I heard something,” Mike stammered. He clapped his hands together to rouse Tiny. “Let’s go to the den, big guy. You’ll like the rug better than this hard floor.”

Tiny grunted, slowly stood to his feet and followed Mike out of the room.

As they left the room, Ada stepped up to the curved dining room window and cast a quick glance outside. Nothing. She shrugged and headed for the kitchen.

_____

Ada busied herself with rinsing dishes and putting them into the dishwasher. She moved about the kitchen with the ease of familiarity. It felt like yesterday that she was here, cleaning up after dinner so that she could have some reading time before Uncle Mike shooed her off to bed.

Even almost thirteen years after she had moved to Seattle, everything in the kitchen had stayed in its place. As Ada dried a platter, she instinctively went to a cabinet to put it away. She tucked the dish to the side and went to close the cabinet door when she noticed something unfamiliar in the back corner of the cabinet, behind a serving dish.

Ada reached back into the cabinet and pulled out two prescription bottles. Puzzled, she scanned the labels. When she read the drug names, her face turned to stone and her lips pursed.

She placed the bottles back where she found them and shut the door. Her breath quickened and her head pounded. Swallowing hard, she shoved the biting anger down her throat.

“I made some lemonade. You want to pour a couple glasses and come in the den?” Mike called from the other room.

Ada counted to ten and grabbed two glasses from another cabinet. “Sure.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher brimming with bright yellow lemonade. She quickly filled the glasses then shoved the pitcher back and shut the door.

She was on her way to the den when the doorbell chimed. She jumped, nearly dropping the glasses. From the den, she heard her uncle ease out of his chair and shush a growling Tiny.

The doorbell rang again. “Just a second!” Mike yelled as he hurried down the hallway.

Ada quickly rushed into the den and set the glasses down on the coffee table. She tiptoed to the doorway and leaned her ear toward the hallway. She heard the door unlock and swing open.

“Gentlemen! Glad you could find the place,” Mike greeted.

CHAPTER 4

Tad sauntered down the emptying sidewalk of Clinton. Night had descended on the sleepy town, which gave Tad the perfect opportunity to get out of the house and find some peace and quiet. His mother had been nagging him about colleges again, despite the fact that he had told her repeatedly that he was going to be a guitarist. She just couldn’t get that through her head.

He reached his favorite bench and collapsed down onto it. From this spot, he could watch the Mukilteo-Clinton ferries come and go from the dock. He’d come here since he was 8 years old. It was his spot.

A couple passed him on the way to their car. They cast cautious glances at him as they walked. Tad caught the eye of the wife and winked at her as he pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket. The wife blushed and looked away.

Tad placed the cigarette between his lips and lit up. He inhaled a long pull and let out a smooth stream of smoke through his nose as he leaned back into the bench.

The last few cars were streaming onto the ferry, headed for Whidbey Island. Tad contemplated sneaking on the ferry at the last second. Then he remembered that math homework due in the morning, still sitting untouched on his desk. He cursed under his breath and stood from the bench, inhaling another drag.

He walked up to the stone wall barrier between the sidewalk and the water. He leaned against it and looked out over the dark, murky waters of Puget Sound. The ferry’s engines kicked on, and the crossing arms for the ferry entrance came down.

As the engines roared to life, the inky water turned white and foamy. The ferry’s horn sounded, signaling its departure. Tad glanced down at the water below him and noticed the end of his cigarette was reflecting an orange ring in the dark water. He inhaled and the ring glowed brighter.

The ferry slowly pulled away from the dock. Tad ignored it and continued to stare down into the water. He pulled in one last, long breath of smoke and watched the butt glow brighter than before. He exhaled an amused chuckle as he eyed something floating toward the surface of the water.

Frowning, Tad leaned closer to the water as the blurry shape slid to the surface. It looked like a clump of dead seaweed. The wake from the ferry engines hit the clump and rolled it.

Tad shouted and the cigarette dropped from his mouth and plummeted down into the water, almost landing on the ghostly white and bloated face of the corpse staring up at Tad.

_____

“You’re such a liar, Uncle Mike,” Ada muttered under her breath as she leapt back across the room to take a seat on the overstuffed leather sofa. She snatched a magazine from the coffee table and pretended to be highly interested as she heard her uncle leading the newcomers down the hallway to the den.

Tiny leapt to his feet and Ada snapped her fingers at him. Grumbling, he lowered back down to his belly, keeping his eyes glued to the doorway.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Mike asked as he and the two men walked into the den.

Ada stayed glued to her magazine as the men walked into the room behind her. Mike walked around to the front of the sofa.

“Ada, I’d like you to meet our guests. Patrick,” Mike motioned to a man, about the same age as himself.

Patrick, a cheery older man with a crop of thick white hair, extended his hand. Ada quickly stood to her feet to accept it. “Patrick Jones. I’m an old friend of your uncle’s,” Patrick said as he gave Ada’s hand a firm shake.

“You worked together at the bureau, right?” Ada asked, “I remember Uncle Mike talking about you.”

“Hopefully all good things,” Patrick joked.

She turned her attention to the second visitor. He wasn’t much older than she, and Ada was instantly hit with the nagging feeling that there was something familiar about his face.

He stepped toward her and extended a hand for her to shake. Ada had barely reached her hand toward his before he grasped it firmly then let it go. “James Deacon,” he said.

Ada studied him, forgetting to respond. She knew that she had seen this man somewhere. She scanned his face, noting the murky green eyes and very faint dusting of freckles on the tops of his cheeks and bridge of his nose. His jawline was sharp and square, and there was a faint but visible scar right above his left eye.

Mike touched a hand to her back and Ada shook her head, realizing she’d been standing mute for the past few seconds. “Ada Greene,” she replied, crossing her arms self-consciously. “I’m sorry but … do I know you?”

The faintest of smiles touched James’s lips as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure,” he replied, “Miss Brandt.”

The fact that he knew her real last name bundled with the emphasis he placed on Brandt hit her like bullet. “What? No,” Ada sputtered, “it’s Greene.”

“You can’t lie to an FBI agent.”

“Agent?” Ada asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Lead agent, actually.”

Ada’s eyes widened slightly and she tipped her head, impressed. “You’re pretty young for a lead agent.”

“I’ve been lead with the BAU for almost ten years,” James replied, strolling past Ada to the fireplace.

Ada glanced at her uncle and Patrick. Both seemed to be a bit uneasy. No one said anything for a few moments. James studied the pictures on the mantle. “So, why the new last name?” he asked, turning back to Ada while he warmed himself at the fire.

“It’s my pen name,” Ada mumbled.

“That you’ve gone by publicly ever since you started college,” James said, turning back to the mantle to retrieve a framed photo of Ada and Mike.

Ada bit the inside of her cheek and her hands began to quiver. She crossed her arms quickly. “You’re FBI. You know who my father is.”

“Absolutely,” James replied. He walked back toward the group and placed the photo on the coffee table. “I’d change my last name, too.”

“Why don’t we all have a seat?” Mike interjected.

Ada was more than happy to oblige. She sunk into the worn leather couch and refused to make eye contact with anyone.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the murders,” James said as he took a seat in the recliner by the fire. He fixed his eyes on Ada like a cat on a mouse.

Ada nodded and took a sip from her glass, still avoiding looking at him.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Ada’s brow creased as she shot James then Uncle Mike a confused glare. “Well, it wasn’t me,” she sneered.

James’s lips curled into a minimal smirk. “Cute.”

Mike leaned forward in his seat, looking at Ada. “The FBI thinks this killer is copying Ridgway.”

“As in Gary Ridgway?”

“As in Green River Killer,” James interjected. “As in your thesis.”

“My thesis?” Ada’s pulse quickened. “How do you know about my thesis?”

“It’s not like it’s a national secret,” James joked, pulling out his phone. “Your uncle sent it to me after I contacted Patrick.”

Ada refused to meet her uncle’s groveling gaze. She could feel it burning into the side of her face. “Can we just get to why you’re here? Please?” she insisted, throwing James a quick glare.

James held his phone out to her. She took it and glanced down at the screen. The familiar words of her thesis scrolled before her. “I need a Ridgway expert, and if your thesis is anything to go by, you’re my closest bet.” James held his hand out for the phone back. Ada was all too happy to be rid of it.

“The BAU doesn’t have a serial killer expert?” Ada huffed.

“Our resident analyst had to have emergency surgery. Flew out last night. I needed a replacement, so I gave Patrick a call to see if he knew of anyone local.”

Patrick cleared his throat and leaned toward Ada on the couch. “I know James from when I was teaching at the Academy. Always knew this kid would go places.” He beamed at James, who gave him no reply.

“I’m still really not understanding why I’m a suitable replacement.” Ada’s voice was beginning to rise in time with her uneasiness.

“I,” James placed his fingertips to his chest, “need an analyst well-versed in Gary Ridgway, and you,” he pinned his fingertips together and pointed them at Ada, “wrote one of the most in depth pieces on the man I’ve ever seen. Not to mention you graduated top of your class with a Criminal Science degree and are widely known as a walking serial killer encyclopedia.”

Ada did not like how much this man she had met minutes earlier knew about her and her life. Not one bit. “I did that research and got that degree so that I could be an accurate crime novelist,” she argued.

James chuckled in a way that Ada knew was not jovial and tapped at his phone again. He turned it toward Ada and she winced as the cover of one of her crime novels filled the screen. “Seems like that worked out well for you,” James sneered. “Tell me, how are your sales doing?”

Fury blazed from Ada’s core. “So, to recap, you need my Green River knowledge to help you and the BAU find whoever is doing this.” She fought to keep her voice steady.

James nodded once.

Ada slapped her hands on the tops of her thighs and stood to her feet. “The answer’s no.”

Mike sprang to his feet as Ada fled the room. He waved a staying hand at James and Patrick as he raced after his niece.

_____

Ada tossed herself onto the front porch swing and clamped her fingertips to her pounding temples. She ignored Uncle Mike as he stepped out onto the porch after her.

“Ada. Let’s talk about this,” Mike soothed as he sat down next to her on the swing.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ada spat. She leapt from the swing and leaned against the porch railing. The crisp fall air turned her harsh exhales into little white clouds. “I don’t know who that guy thinks he is, but there’s no way in hell that I’m helping him.”

Mike sighed and let Ada stand in silence for a few moments. The only sound they heard was Tiny whining on the other side of the front door. It was a good five minutes before the silence was broken.

“Everything might seem like it was twenty-five years ago to you,” Ada began, shaking, “but for me, it feels like twenty-five minutes. No matter how hard I try to get over it or put it behind me, there’s always something that pops up and makes me remember.” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat. “That’s why I didn’t go into law enforcement. Why I decided to write about criminals instead of coming into contact with them.”

“What are you afraid of, Ada?” Mike asked softly.

Ada turned to face him. “I’m having the nightmares again. I haven’t had those in years.”

Mike leaned forward toward her. “And?”

“And it’s like reliving Mom dying. Over and over. All those years of therapy, just going down the drain,” Ada said. She walked over to the swing and sat down, feeling suddenly exhausted. “And now, with tomorrow being such a ... milestone. I just feel like everything is crashing back in on me again.”

Mike opened his right arm to her and Ada curled against his chest like she was six again. “Do you think I would suggest you do this if I thought it would end up hurting you?” Mike asked as he squeezed a comforting hand on Ada’s shoulder.

“I just don’t see the reason to help. If you think this is a way for me to deal with what happened, I’m already doing that with writing and teaching. Those are my coping mechanisms,” Ada said.

“When I was with the FBI,” Mike said, “I had this thing I used to do to deal with any case that just got to be too much.”

“Which was?” Ada asked.

“I’d immerse myself in anything that had to do with the case. Basically made myself sick of it. After I did that, I had no problem.”

“Yeah, but this is different. This is personal.”

“You think I didn’t have to deal with anything personal when I was working?” Mike asked, his tone changing to something between nostalgia and grim regret. “I had plenty of instances where I wanted to walk away and let someone else find the bad guy. But I couldn’t. That was my job. So I had to find a way to deal.”

“This isn’t my job, though, Uncle Mike,” Ada said as she sat up to look him in the eye. “I have absolutely no reason to help them.” She motioned toward the FBI vehicle parked yards away.

“I’d have to be blind not to see how tired you are, Ada. I’m guessing you haven’t seen your psychiatrist in months. Something is bothering you, and I know you enough to know that you probably won’t tell me,” Mike smirked then sobered. “You’ve tried just about everything to help you with come to terms with what happened. Maybe this is that one thing that will help.”

CHAPTER 5

James stared at the wall across from him, his fingers tapping the top of his leg. Something in the kitchen started dripping, and the rhythm threw off his leg taps. He cursed under his breath and started tapping his right heel against the weathered hardwood floor.

“Patience isn’t really your thing, is it?” Patrick asked with a slight chuckle as he flipped through his second magazine.

James ignored the jibe and glanced at his watch. “I should have been back an hour ago.” A shrill chirp sounded from James’s jacket pocket. He pulled out his phone and lurched to his feet.

Patrick watched James stride out of the room and answer the phone in a hurried tone. “That kid’s going to wake up one day and realize he’s wasted away the best years of his life being a prick,” Patrick mused to Tiny, who had just wandered in from the foyer.

_____

“How long ago was she found?” James asked as he searched the house for a more private room. He wandered down the dim main hallway and spied a desk through a cracked door. He entered what appeared to be Mike’s office and shut himself in. “Do we have an I.D. on her yet?”

James slid his hand along the wall to try to find the light switch but came up empty. He walked across the room to a trio of windows and leaned against one.

“Well, it’ll take me at least half an hour just to get to the ferry, so get everyone rolling. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” James said. “Don’t wait on me to get started.”

He ended the call and clenched his fist around the phone. Slight movement caught his eye, and he peered out the window to the far right corner of the porch. He caught sight of Ada and Mike sitting on the porch swing.

“Ridiculous,” James hissed. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and left the office.

_____

The morbidly curious crowd that had gathered near the ferry port made John Klinton sick. As the coroner transported the woman’s body from where it had been plucked from Puget Sound to the back of a panel van, the crowd’s dim rustle rose to blurring outcries at the sight of the black bag encased body.

“So young.”

“How did she end up in the water?”

“No one deserves to go this way.”

John could no longer stomach the snippets of speculation. He turned and strode back to his car, nestled among the other “ferry walkers” cars. This was the first time he had stayed for the aftermath. He wasn’t sure what he had expected his experience to be like, but he hadn’t accounted for feeling … misunderstood.

As he ducked into his aging sedan and brought it to rattling life, he marveled at how wrong the idiots in the crowd had it. The girl from the coffee shop had deserved to go that way. She was like any other small-town slut. Charming to strangers and seemingly innocent, yet inside she was as damaged and ugly as any corner hooker. He had spotted her instantly inside the popular Langley hangout. He had caught her throwing herself at him with her eyes a dozen times, clearly over the poor bastard sitting beside her in total denial of his girlfriend’s sole commitment to him. In the end, John had given her what she had been so obviously longing for, but only to help drive home to her his point that she was a promiscuous cyst blemishing the face of society with her thoughtless advances.

John had known within seconds of spotting the girl why he had ended up at that particular coffee shop. Why he had gotten on the ferry to Whidbey Island in the first place. To rid the world of yet another lustful parasite desperate to sink her claws into the first unsuspecting man she saw. There was now one less chance of his daughter being influenced by this revolting hoard of whores swarming seemingly all around.

He thought of his precious daughter Jane waiting for him back at their hotel room. Her first seven years of life had been tainted with destruction, lies, and constant struggle, thanks to a mother who couldn’t last five minutes without a bottle in her hand and a man wrapped around her finger. No more, John thought as he headed back to Seattle. He was on a mission to give Jane a world she deserved, was entitled to as an innocent child cursed with a broken home. And he would not fail her, not again.

_____

The house’s heavy front door jerked open. Ada flinched upright from her uncle’s embrace as James burst out onto the porch.

Mike eased to his feet. “You’re leaving?” he asked James.

“They found another girl,” James said. He looked at Ada. “I need an answer.”

Ada shot out a disbelieving laugh and brought her knees up to her chest. “I don’t have one,” she replied, taking a small bit of delight at the annoyance that darkened James’s face.

Mike held up an appeasing hand. “She means she’ll get back to you,” he said quickly.

James shot a stern look between Ada and Mike for a few seconds. The muscles in his jawline tightened, and he shook his head. “If my hands weren’t tied, I wouldn’t be playing these games with you,” he said to Ada. “Given the situation, I really have no choice. Call me by eight tomorrow morning.”

“Did you leave a number?” Ada asked, inwardly loving the frustration billowing in the agent.

James didn’t bite this time. “Get it from Patrick. I have to go.” He quickly shook Mike’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Mike smiled and clapped the younger man’s shoulder. “Same to you. You’ll be hearing from us,” he said.

James nodded then turned and jogged down the stairs to the black SUV.

As the SUV started and backed down the twisting driveway, Ada shook her head. “He’s an experience,” she said.

Mike chuckled. “That’s the bureau for you. They tend to attract the no-nonsense, rough-around-the-edges types.”

“Why did you think I would do well there?”

“You’re not exactly all sunshine and roses, Ada-bug,” Mike said. He extended a hand to her. “Come on, I think it’s time you start heading back.”

Ada accepted his hand and gracefully stood from the swing. She threw her arms around her uncle’s neck, hanging on for a few moments. “I’ll think about it. OK?” she whispered against his shoulder.

Mike smiled tenderly and kissed her forehead.

_____

“Come on, time for bed,” Ada called to Tiny as she walked into her bedroom. The dog obediently trotted to his bed and curled up on it.

Ada changed into a well-worn pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. As she pulled the shirt over her head, her eyes landed on the gallery wall in her bedroom. They drifted over all the various framed images.

When Jacob Brandt had been carted off to jail and Mary Brandt was laid to rest, six-year-old Ada was left homeless and an orphan. Mike had stepped forward to take his brother’s daughter as his own. On the day that Ada moved to her uncle’s, she remembered he scoured her childhood home for any and all photographs and family mementos. Whatever Ada and Mike hadn’t taken was donated or thrown away. But Mike was sure to salvage as many reminders as he could of the happy years of Ada’s early life.

Now in her own home, Ada loved being able to go to these photographs and study her mother’s smile, try to recall the time her mother had taken her to the park, or see which features she had inherited from her mother. Ada had even held conversations with the pictures. She had “asked” her mother what she thought about her becoming an author instead of following in Uncle Mike’s footsteps at the FBI.

The analyst offer weighed heavily on her mind. She looked to a picture of her mother, swinging on an old farm swing. She was looking directly at the camera, and, Ada always felt, right at her.

“What would you do, Mom?” Ada asked, surprised when a lump surfaced in her throat. She cleared it quickly.

Her phone rang loudly from her purse, which she’d tossed carelessly on the floor. She grabbed it and answered.

“Tell me you’ve been watching the news,” Tiffany said, the panic evident in her voice even through the phone.

“No, I just got back from my uncle’s place. Why, what’s up?”

“They found another body,” Tiffany breathed, emotion suddenly creeping into her voice.

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that,” Ada said, hoping to wrap up the conversation quickly.

“Did you hear who it was?”

“No, I just knew they found someone.”

Tiffany didn’t answer right away. Ada thought the call had dropped. “Tif?” she called.

“Ada ... it was one of your students.”

Ada sank to her bed, head pounding and stomach cold. “What? Who?”

“Tina Lancaster.”

Not Tina, Ada said inwardly. Tina was one of her most promising students. Her writing often left Ada feeling less than adequate about her own skill. Ada’s mind thought back to discussions the two of them had had after class, chats that on occasion had stretched into hours-long deep conversations. “I forgot she lives in Langley.”

Tiffany took a steadying breath. “I thought you should know. Before tomorrow.”

Ada collapsed onto her back. “Yeah, definitely. I’m glad you called.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ada hung up and placed the phone on its dock. She pulled the covers up over herself and lay staring at the ceiling for a good hour, her mind racing.

She eventually dozed off, only to jerk awake three hours later. The lights in the room burned into her freshly-woken eyes. She winced and stretched toward the wall switch by the bed. Her eyes fell on the phone sitting innocently on its dock. An insane urge to grab the phone coursed through her. She managed to ignore the urge for about ten seconds, and then the phone was in her hand. She scrolled through her messages and found the number. Her heart thundered in her ears as she placed the phone to her ear.

The phone rang three times before a generic voicemail message rattled through the speaker. Then a beep.

“Hey, it’s Ada,” she paused for a moment, “Brandt.” Her voice cracked and she quickly cleared her throat. She had to maintain control of this situation, even if it was just during a voicemail. “I heard who the latest victim was. She was one of my students. I’m only doing this for Tina,” Ada paused for a moment to stop a quiver from entering her tone. “I’m sure you’re incredibly busy right now. You can call me back in the morning. I should be out of class around ten. You can reach me then.” She struggled to find a proper salutation and came up empty. Frazzled, she abruptly ended the call and clicked the phone back onto its dock.

“What did I just do?” she sighed as she fell back into her pillows.

CHAPTER 6

The next morning, as Ada made her way through campus, there was a distinct lull everywhere. Clusters of students were huddled together. No one seemed remotely motivated to rush to classes. Ada passed one girl softly crying against another girl’s shoulder. Ada caught the eye of the comforting girl and gave her a small smile.

News of Tina had spread quickly, despite the size of the campus. Students that Ada was sure had never met Tina were still visibly touched by her death. The campus buildings seemed overrun with shuffling zombie throngs of shell-shocked students.

Ada made it to the faculty hall of the Casey Building with a few minutes to spare. She glanced in Tiffany’s office on the way to her own. It was still dark, and the door was locked. Ada continued four doors down and inserted her key into the lock.

When the door opened before she could even turn the key, Ada cried out. She inhaled sharply as the door opened to reveal a thirty-something African American woman dressed in a black pant suit with black leather boots just peeking out from the cuff. She wore minimal makeup, but her strong features hardly needed enhancing.

“Who the hell are you?” Ada stammered as she gripped a hand over her satchel strap. “And why are you in my office?”

The woman swept a welcoming arm toward the interior of the office. “Please,” she said, her voice oddly soothing. “You don’t have to stand in the hallway.” When Ada didn’t move, the woman sighed and pulled a badge from her pocket and flashed it quickly at Ada. “Please?”

Ada knew an FBI badge when she saw one. She cautiously moved through the doorway, keeping her gaze locked on the mystery woman. Once in the office, she rushed to her desk. Placing her bag on her seat, Ada planted herself behind the barricade of her desk. “How did you get in here?” she demanded.

“I asked,” the woman replied as she walked to Ada’s desk. She extended a hand across the desk. “Brenda Stine. I’m an agent with the BAU.”

This news brought a frown to Ada’s face as she accepted Brenda’s handshake. “James sent you.”

“Agent Deacon asked me to serve as your liaison with the investigation,” Brenda said. “I’m to fill you in on the case so far and to see when you’ll be available to come in.”

Ada narrowed her eyes. “I thought I was just serving as an analyst?”

“You are.”

“Then why do I need to ‘come in?’” Ada air-quoted the last two words.

“It would be easier to bring you to headquarters to start reviewing our files. Agent Deacon believes it would also be beneficial for you to work scenes with us. Outside opinions are sometimes the missing piece in solving a case.”

“I can’t be gallivanting around Seattle. I have teaching obligations. This,” Ada motioned around her, “is my main priority. If James has a problem with that, I’ll be taking back my offer to help.”

Brenda’s lips tightened into a thin line. Her hands calmly came together in front of her and she nodded. “Well, we’ll see what we can work out. I suppose I can have copies of a few key files sent to you so you can look at what we’ve developed so far.”

“Sounds good,” Ada said as she glanced at her desk clock. “I actually have a class in twenty minutes. You’re welcome to come back this afternoon—”

The door swung open and Tiffany walked halfway into the office, stopping when she saw Brenda.

Ada gave her a tight smile. “Hey, Tiff.”

Tiffany waved and continued staring at Brenda. “Bad time?”

“No, it’s fine. Agent Stine was just leaving,” Ada said.

Brenda nodded at Tiffany and turned to Ada. “I’ll come back this afternoon,” she said. “And you can call me Brenda.”

Ada cracked a slight grin. “Brenda,” she corrected. “I’ll be back in my office around two.”

“I’ll see you then,” Brenda said then turned to leave the office. She flashed Tiffany a polite grin on her way out.

As soon as Brenda stepped through the door, Tiffany slammed it shut. “Agent?” she demanded.

Ada started collecting necessary items for her class. “Long story. Definitely not one I have time to tell right now.”

Tiffany crossed her arms across her chest and cocked her head to the side. “Give me the short version.”

Ada piled her laptop, textbook, and pointer in her arms and trudged to the door. “Walk with me, and I’ll try to get it all out.”

_____

“So, you’re going to be an analyst for the FBI?” Tiffany said, shocked. She sat on the corner of Ada’s desk and shook her head. “That’s so cool.”

“It’s temporary.” Ada placed her laptop on the desk and sat down next to Tiffany. “I’m only doing this because of Tina.”

Tiffany ducked her head and swallowed hard.

“She was one of my best students,” Ada mused, glancing over at Tina’s seat. “I need to help figure out who did this to her.”

Tiffany ran a hand through her tousled blonde waves. “Well, I’m proud of you.” She covered Ada’s hand with hers and squeezed. “Who knows, maybe you’ll fall in love with the FBI and leave all this teaching stuff behind,” she joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Ada could not have been more grateful that Tiffany had no clue about her past. “I highly doubt that,” Ada snorted.

Students trickled into the classroom and meandered to their seats. No one uttered a word. Tiffany stood from her corner perch. “That’s my cue,” she murmured. “You up for lunch? I forgot to bring mine today.”

“Sure. I just need to be back in time for office hours.”

Tiffany nodded and gave Ada a little wave as she exited the classroom. Reluctantly, Ada turned her attention to the occupied desks and surveyed the faces in her classroom. The faces pointed back at her were expressionless. Everyone sat hunched down in their seats, staring forward at nothing.

The room felt ready to burst with the amount of tense silence pressing against its walls. Ada crossed swiftly to the door and shut it. She paused and looked back at the students, then up at the queued lecture on the overhead screen. Without a second thought, she pulled the remote from her pocket and shut off the screen.

A handful of students noticed and roused themselves from their stupors. The rest continued to sit motionless.

Steeling herself, Ada walked slowly to her desk and leaned against it. She cleared her throat before beginning, “I’m not going to pretend that today’s a normal day. I know the last thing any of you want to hear is my lecture.”

This got the attention of more students.

“We all knew Tina. We all spent time with her here, every week. Even if you didn’t know her personally, she was a part of this room, and now that part is missing.” Ada wanted to tell them about the FBI, wanted to let them know that she planned to find answers, closure. Instead, she found herself saying, “If you just want to sit here for the next couple of hours, that’s fine. If you need to talk, that’s fine, too. If you want to leave or write or talk to each other, feel free. Take all the space and time you need right now.”

A few muffled sniffs sounded around the room. One girl passed around a packet of tissues. Ada gave the class a small smile and walked around the desk to her chair. She sat down and glanced at her clasped hands.

No one moved in the room for what felt like hours. Then, Ada watched as one girl, Lionni, stood from her seat and rushed down to the front of the room. Ada barely stood to her feet before she was engulfed in Lionni’s slim arms. She felt her shirt grow damp as endless tears fell from Lionni’s eyes onto Ada’s shoulder.

As Ada comforted Lionni in front of a class of mourning students, any ounce of doubt she had in her decision vanished. The FBI would find this psychopath, and she would do whatever she could to help make that happen.

_____

Dade Wylan always wanted to be a cop. He had grown up watching crime movies and shows, pretending every stick he found in his backyard was some type of firearm. He would “patrol” his neighborhood on his bike, keeping a watchful adolescent eye on his surroundings.

When it came time to go to college, Dade disappointed his mother and enrolled in the police academy, following in his late father’s footsteps. He graduated top of his class and was quickly promoted through the ranks, but none of his accomplishments had improved his mother’s opinion of what he had chosen to do with his life. To this day, Dade wondered if his father had still been alive if his mother would have objected at all to Dade’s decision.

It wasn’t until he fought his way into an open slot on the FBI BAU team that his mother had actually paid him a small token of praise. One of Dade’s proudest moments was showing his mother his FBI badge and seeing an impressed smile touch her lips. His mother still thought he was being “much too reckless,” but he knew for a fact she had told some of her friends about his new job with the bureau. That small sign of pride was enough to make Dade smile like a fool for a week straight.

After joining the BAU, Dade had quickly risen to “right-hand man” status with lead agent James Deacon. As soon as he joined the team, Dade had felt an unspoken understanding between him and the lead agent. They were both around the same age, had the same work ethic, and had similar backgrounds. They even looked somewhat similar. Both men were Caucasian, over six feet tall and physically fit with strong facial features. Their only difference was personality. Dade had never met a stranger in his life. James was more concerned with solving cases than acting civilly.

Dade sensed that this certain character flaw was about to rear its ugly head as he and James stood in the morgue waiting room. They had been waiting there for nearly half an hour while Tina’s family identified her body. Dade had winced when he heard Tina’s mother’s faint yet distinct wails as she viewed her daughter rooms away. Even after almost eight years with the bureau, those cries still made his blood run cold.

James, on the other hand, seemed genuinely put off by how long the family was taking in the viewing room. Dade wondered if today was going to be the day he lost his job for decking his insensitive superior.

The wide double doors swung open and the coroner gently ushered Tina’s parents out into the waiting room. Dade tried not to look at the mother.

“As soon as the FBI releases Tina’s body, we’ll notify the funeral home,” the coroner said to Tina’s father.

The father cast a slightly irked look at James and Dade. “How long is that going to take?” he hissed.

Dade felt his fist clench in his pocket as he braced himself for James’s response. Thankfully, the coroner herded the parents to the exit before James had a chance to reply.

“I’m sorry about the wait, gentlemen. You never know how long identifications might take,” the coroner said as he motioned the two agents further into the morgue.

“Have you completed the autopsy yet?” James asked as they entered the chilly morgue locker room. Tina’s body lay on a table in the center of the room, covered in a crisp white sheet.

“Just this morning,” the coroner replied as he pulled back the sheet from Tina’s face. “I’ve sent everything into the lab, so I should have test results back in the next seventy-two hours.”

Dade lifted one corner of the sheet with a gloved hand. “How beat up was she?”

“Pretty badly. Substantial bruising all over her body. Her left wrist was fractured, she’s missing almost all of her fingernails, and her jaw was broken on the right side of her face. There is evidence of sexual assault. I wasn’t able to locate any DNA evidence, unfortunately.”

“How badly did the water contaminate evidence?” James asked.

The coroner shook his head. “She wasn’t in the water very long. Maybe an hour or so before she was found.”

James pulled on a glove and tilted Tina’s head to the side. “Were her injuries antemortem?”

“From what I can tell right now, yes.”

James squatted down next to the table and tilted his head slightly. “What do you make of this mark behind her ear?” he asked the coroner.

Dade bent down behind James to get a better look. “It looks like some kind of scratch. Almost like an animal did it.”

James shook his head. “The marks are too precise.” He looked up at the coroner. “Did you look for any animal hairs or claw fragments?”

“I didn’t need to. These marks were made by an instrument, not something biological.”

James bent the top of Tina’s right ear down and studied the marks. He tapped his teeth together and stood after a few moments. “I wonder ...” he murmured.

Dade studied him, trying to gauge whatever was racing through James’s head. “What’re you thinking?” he asked.

James ignored him and nodded at the morgue lockers on the wall in front of them. “Did any of the others have marks like this?”

“Not that I could see,” the coroner replied, “Honestly, though, I almost didn’t see the marks on her,” he motioned at Tina, “One of my assistants saw it.”

James’s jaw tightened and Dade prepared for the string of profanity about to spill from his boss’s mouth. “Well, let’s check,” was all that came out from behind James’s slightly clenched teeth. Dade struggled to hide his surprise.

The coroner nodded and set about opening all the other victims’ lockers. After examining the other victims, James yanked off his gloves, tossed them in the trash, and pulled out his phone.

“Got something?” Dade asked.

James ignored him as he put the phone to his ear. “Brenda, it’s me. Tell Miss Brandt I need her to come down to the morgue,” James said. He listened to Brenda’s response and mild fury crept into his eyes. “Well, tell her she’s not in a position to be drawing boundary lines. She’s an analyst. Get her down here as soon as possible.”

“Miss Brandt?” Dade asked as James shoved the phone back in his pocket. “What happened to getting Janice out here?”

“Janice is still recuperating from her surgery, so I needed to get a replacement,” James replied.

Dade scanned James’s face for any sign of worry about Janice Otto, the team’s usual analyst. Nothing.

“Is Janice going to be all right?” Dade prodded.

James shrugged at him, clearly annoyed at his persistence. “She’s fine. It was just knee surgery.”

For someone who shares hotel rooms with her, you could show a little concern, Dade chided in his head but outwardly just nodded.

James frowned at him for a moment then pulled on a new pair of gloves.

_____

“You know you need to let Dean Bridges in on what you’re doing, right?” Tiffany asked as she and Ada carted their lunches down to Ada’s office.

Ada groaned. “I didn’t even think about that.” She tossed her fast food bag onto her desk. “I mean, I’m just reviewing files and doing some research. Does he really need to know about that?”

“Look, I know the dean still scares you,” Tiffany said, nimbly deflecting the pencil Ada sent flying at her head, “but this isn’t some minor little side project. This is a federal investigation.”

“I know, I know,” Ada sighed. She took a swig of her soda and pulled a french fry from the bag. She chewed it thoughtfully as she stared off into space.

“I’m actually pretty jealous that you get to do this,” Tiffany confessed as she unwrapped her chicken sandwich and took the first bite.

Ada’s brow rose. “Jealous? Why? It’ll probably be like grad school all over again.”

“I don’t know. I mean how many opportunities do we get to actually put all this,” Tiffany tapped the side of her head, “to good use?” She took another bite of her sandwich and gave Ada a coy smile. “Not to mention, you get to hang around attractive FBI agents.”

Ada pulled a disgusted face and nibbled another fry. “One, I’m doing this because I want to get Tina’s family some answers.”

Tiffany sobered at that and nodded.

“Two,” Ada said quickly, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m going to be sitting at home doing all this ‘analyst’ stuff. And three,” she waggled a fry at Tiffany, “of the FBI agents that I’ve met, none would be categorized as ‘attractive.’” At that, she popped the fry in her mouth.

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Please. I know exactly who James Deacon is. I actually watch the news.” She couldn’t move fast enough to miss the second pencil rocketing her way. It smacked her in the shoulder but she continued on. “He’s hot, even you can’t deny that.”

“Well, his personality kills any shred of attractiveness.” Ada washed the fry down with a quick sip of her drink. “Seriously, Tiff, the man is a Grade A douche.”

“They’re often the most fun,” Tiffany said coyly.

“I’m going have to disagree with you on that one,” Brenda interrupted suddenly.

Tiffany and Ada simultaneously flinched and tossed startled looks at the agent. Ada glanced at the clock and then groaned. “Brenda, I’m so sorry. I completely lost track of time.”

Brenda held up a hand and walked into the room with a stack of impeccably labeled files. “I brought copies of everything I figured you’d want to look at first.”

Ada took the sizable stack from Brenda. “Yay, homework.”

Brenda smiled and turned slightly to Tiffany. “For the record, I never said this. But Ada’s opinion of Agent Deacon is pretty spot on.”

Ada chuckled. “See?” Brenda was fast becoming less of a pain.

Tiffany shook her head sadly and balled up her empty sandwich wrapper. “Personal experience, Agent?” she asked Brenda.

Brenda chuckled. “No. No way. I’ve just been around him long enough to have an educated opinion.”

“Mmhmm, OK,” Tiffany mused. “Well, I’ll let you two talk. I need to get my notes together for Historical Lit class.” She paused on her way out and looked at Brenda. “Tiffany, by the way.”

“Brenda,” the agent greeted.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Brenda. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Tiffany waved to Ada. “Try to have some fun!” she called on her way out.

“Sorry about her. She doesn’t really have a filter,” Ada said. She motioned Brenda to take a seat then began digging through the first file. “So, what do you need help with the most?”

Brenda scooted to the edge of the chair she was sitting in and crossed her legs. “Well, it’s not in that pile,” she said.

Ada gave her a curious look. “OK?”

“I know you’ve already stated your feelings on the matter,” Brenda said, “but I’m afraid you’re going to have to make an exception to your ‘no on-the-job’ rule.”

Ada slapped the file shut and placed it back on the pile. “Why?”

“Agent Deacon wouldn’t say. He and Agent Wylan are at the county morgue and Agent Deacon requested that I bring you down there to check something out.”

Morgue. Ada despised the word and hated the actual place even more. “Surely he can just send me pictures or something,” Ada said. “There’s no reason I need to go all the way down there—”

“Besides the fact the lead agent of the BAU asked you to come?” Brenda demanded.

Ada packed up her satchel. “I highly doubt he asked. Stomped his foot and ordered, more like.”

Brenda had no reply. She watched Ada slide her laptop into her bag. “So, that’s a no?” She wearily pulled out her phone.

“Tell him he can email pictures, and I’ll look at them as soon as I get home,” Ada said. “And if that’s a problem, he can call me.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Brenda stood and followed Ada out of her office.

_____

It was almost midnight. Brenda’s neat pile of FBI folders was now a disheveled mess strewn across Ada’s bed. For the past four hours Ada had poured over every document. Her brain and back were insisting she call it a night. She rubbed her burning eyes and ran through her mental to-do list. Student papers sat neglected in her satchel. She couldn’t remember if Tiny had gotten a dinner. She couldn’t remember if she had gotten a dinner. Her mind was unable to process anything other than the four murders littering her bed.

Ada had settled on her bed four hours prior not really sure what she was even looking for. She had never seen a case in its infancy. She’d done hours of in-depth, hands-on research while in college, but that was of closed cases and just to write a few papers. Now, lives had been lost, more lives were at stake, and she had a part in figuring out how to get a step ahead of the killer. “Daunting” did not even begin to describe the weight pressing down on her mind and shoulders.

Her phone buzzed, and for a moment Ada had no idea where it was. She finally found it under a folder of crime scene photos. She opened the text message.

I just emailed you a few photos from Agent Deacon. You owe me big time. I didn’t know veins could pop that much on a human head.

Ada was quickly learning to appreciate Brenda’s sense of humor. She felt a momentary pang of guilt at placing Brenda before the firing squad that was James Deacon’s temper.

Groaning as she stretched out her cramped legs, Ada slid off her bed and retrieved her laptop. She climbed back onto the bed as she opened the laptop and pulled up her email.

Brenda’s email was waiting with a zip file of images. When Ada unzipped the file, images of carved flesh suddenly filled her screen. She shut her eyes for a moment, caught off guard. Snapping back into analyst mode, she leaned toward her laptop screen and studied the markings.

Within a few minutes of studying, it dawned on her what the markings might be. She picked her phone up again and called Brenda.

“That was fast,” Brenda answered, the fatigue evident in her voice, even over the phone.

“I have an idea of what the marks might be.”

Brenda cleared her throat. “You would have a breakthrough right in the middle of my very short sleep break.”

Ada felt a tug of guilt again. “I’m sorry. I just looked at the photos, and I wanted to let you know what I thought. I didn’t know how important my analysis was.” She could hear herself rambling.

“Well, let’s hear it,” Brenda said. “What do you think the marks are?”

Ada pulled up one of the images and double-checked before replying. “They look like tally marks. Like the killer is keeping a running total of victims.”

“That was Agent Deacon’s thought, too. Any idea why this guy is putting them in a different place each time?”

“He has to have a reason. Maybe to throw off the coroner? Honestly, I’m not sure. I just know that those definitely look like tally marks.”

“Which strengthens the connection between victims.” Brenda paused for what sounded like a yawn. “I’ll let Agent Deacon know.”

“Don’t you get tired of having to say ‘Agent’ all the time?”

“I try to be professional at all times.” Brenda chuckled. “It does get old, though.”

“Well you don’t have to be all uptight around me,” Ada replied. “I won’t tell on you.”

“In that case, I’ll let Deacon know what your thoughts are. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from me tomorrow.”

Ada closed her laptop lid and tossed it to the other side of the bed. “Oh joy,” she sneered.

“Have a good night, Ada,” Brenda said as she ended the call.

Ada grinned and tossed her phone next to the laptop. She took in the chaos around her and let out a heaving sigh. “This is nuts,” she muttered.

_____

“To finally getting the man of your dreams!” Bethany shouted to Melissa as she and her small circle of friends raised their shot glasses in unison then tossed them back in one gulp.

Melissa, recently engaged to her high school sweetheart, blushed and smiled at her friends. “You guys are the best. Thanks for coming down here to celebrate with me.”

Everyone was quick to lean in and blow air kisses at the bride-to-be. Keeping at the edge of the group, Lana Rames sipped at her water and made sure to keep a smile plastered on her lips. Jealousy had threatened to rear its ugly head more than once so far. So what that Melissa was marrying the man of Lana’s dreams? That’s how the cards had fallen. Time to buck up and be an adult.

Bethany stepped up behind Lana and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Thanks for being a team player,” she whispered, as if reading Lana’s mind. “I know Melissa is thrilled you’re here. And I’m sure David appreciates you keeping your little secret from his fiancé.”

Lana threw a glance at Melissa, who was downing another shot. “You really don’t think David ever told her about me and him?”

“I doubt it. I mean, it was just a couple of weekends, Lana, not a big deal.” Bethany noticed the downcast look on Lana’s face. “Right?” she pushed.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Lana breathed and downed another gulp of water.

Bethany could see the pain in Lana’s eyes and felt bad for the poor girl. “Hey, I was coming over here to tell you,” she placed her hand on Lana’s chin and turned her head toward the center of the night club, “that you have an admirer.”

Lana caught sight of someone leaning against a wall across the room. His face was hidden by a ball cap, but he was definitely pointed in her direction. “Really?” Lana asked, unsure.

“Um, yes. He’s been looking at you since we got here,” Bethany said. She nudged Lana up out of her seat. “Go say hi!” she said, giving her a playful shove.

Lana shot Bethany a dirty look but steeled herself then weaved through the crowd toward the mysterious man.

Bethany watched as Lana walked up to the man. The two started talking and within a few minutes they were walking out of the club. “Get it, girl,” Bethany called out to Lana.

Lana snuck Bethany a small wave as she and the man walked out the front door.

_____

“It’s so nice out tonight!” Lana said, trying to start up some kind of conversation. This guy was not much of a talker. He had urged her to step outside, maybe to somewhere quieter so they could talk, but hadn’t said much since they’d left the nightclub.

“Yeah, it is,” the man muttered. He walked with his hands dug deep in his pockets, his head down slightly.

“I just realized I never told you my name!” Lana exclaimed, “I’m Lana.”

The man tilted his head toward her and Lana caught sight of a stubble-covered chin and pointed nose. The street lights were dim and the ball cap threw a shadow over his eyes. “John.” he replied.

“Nice to meet you, John,” Lana grinned. She surveyed their surroundings for a moment. The sidewalk was oddly deserted and the shoddy street lamps aided the increasingly ominous vibe. “Where are we walking to, exactly? You said something about a pub?”

John stopped at a car parked by the curb. He unlocked it and opened the passenger door. “We have to drive there. It’s a few streets down.”

Lana felt something settle in her stomach. She wished that someone would come out of one of the nearby clubs or restaurants. “Oh, I’m fine with walking. Good exercise, right?”

John continued to hold the door open, not moving. “I think taking the car would be best.”

Lana shifted on her feet for a few moments, trying to decide if she was going to ignore the voice screaming in her head to run away as fast as she could. She looked closer at the car and saw a car seat in the back. This calmed her nerves. “Ok, sure. Let me just go get my purse from the club—”

John’s hand clamped down on her forearm and pulled her a few steps toward the car. “We really should get going,” he hissed.

_____

Bethany glanced down at Lana’s seat and noticed her purse slung on the back of it. “Oh, crap,” she muttered. She picked up the purse and caught Melissa’s eye. “I’m gonna go give this to Lana. I’ll be right back.”

Melissa nodded and went back to showing off her ring. Bethany hurried to the club exit, wondering why Lana hadn’t come back for the purse. She must have noticed it wasn’t with her by now.

As Bethany stepped out of the club, she looked up and down the sidewalk. No sign of Lana. Bethany turned to go back into the club when a car came up the street. Lana was sitting in the passenger seat.

As the car drove past, Lana put her window down and called to Bethany. “Hey, I’ll get my purse from you later, all right?”

Bethany cracked a wide grin and waved knowingly at her friend as the car drove off. “All she needed was a push,” Bethany mused, proud of her handiwork. She turned and headed back into the club.

_____

The window slid back up as the car turned down a side street. Lana sat rigid in her seat, staring straight ahead.

“Good performance back there,” John said, stashing his gun in the side pocket of his door and reaching over to grasp Lana’s hand.

She shuddered as his clammy hand covered hers. “Where are we going?” Lana stammered.

“Where you wanted. Someplace private,” John said, turning the car down another alley.

Lana was quickly losing her sense of direction and tried desperately to keep her emotions at bay. The last thing she wanted was to give John the satisfaction of seeing her lose it. “We don’t have to go anywhere private. We can go back to the club if you want—“

“I saw how you were looking at me. I’m just giving you what you want.”

They came to a stop at a light. Lana looked around and still saw no one. She glanced at John, who was watching the light. In one fluid move, Lana released her seat belt and went for her door handle. The door remained locked and she glanced down to see the switch to unlock it had been removed. She pressed her forehead against the window and let out a wail as the tears came. She was trapped.

“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” John growled, and then Lana’s world went dark with a blow to the side of her head.

CHAPTER 7

James strolled into his hotel room and tossed his key card onto the desk. His breathing was still coming down from the short stint in the hotel gym. There really was no better remedy for 20-hour days than a quick lap around the gym equipment. After the full day he and the team had put in at the Seattle PD station, the gym had been an undeniable necessity.

He plugged his dying phone into its charger and saw there were no missed calls waiting for him. That meant there was time for a quick shower, maybe a half-hour nap if he was really lucky.

James stepped into the bathroom and flipped the shower on. As steam billowed into the tiny room, James went back to the bed and sat down on the edge. He slipped off his gym shoes, unfastened his ankle holster, and reached back toward the head of the bed and slipped the gun under his pillow. He stripped off his drenched gym clothes and tossed them into the open closet as he walked past.

He was about to step in the shower when he caught sight of his face in the semi-fogged mirror. What had been a dusting of faint stubble was now becoming a bit more prominent than what was allowed by both the FBI and his own standards. Annoyed, James quickly lathered up his lower face with shaving cream and expertly sloughed away the grisly hairs in almost a minute flat.

James sighed as he stepped into the shower and let the hot water rain down his weary body. He rinsed the remnants of the shaving cream from his face, then leaned his forehead against the shower wall and let the water rush down his back.

Any dedicated law enforcement official knows that when you’re on a case, you give up almost complete control of your subconscious. James had not had a non-FBI-case thought in months, it seemed. Even now, standing in his first hot shower in almost 48 hours, the only thought running through his head was what motive was behind the markings this killer was leaving on his victims.

Tally marks were meant to help someone keep an accurate count. Was this guy having trouble remembering just how many women he had murdered? Or was it less about keeping track and more about clapping himself on the back every time he added another tick? James was almost certain the killer was taking pictures, as well. Why proudly mark your accomplishment and then discard it like a piece of trash?

As he straightened and began washing his hair, James mused that it was a good sign that Ada had unknowingly agreed with his hunch about the markings. He knew that if Brenda had told Ada his hunch before she had analyzed the images, Ada would have created idea polar opposite of his. That they had ended up on the same page meant that she was at least a decent analyst. Patrick hadn’t been lying.

James had just stepped onto the flimsy hotel bathmat when his phone rang. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and crossed the room to pick up the phone by the third ring.

“Agent Deacon,” he answered, pulling a clean outfit from the bottom of his bag. “We’ll be there shortly.” He hung up the phone and hurriedly pulled on an undershirt and his last clean polo shirt. He needed to figure out his laundry situation, soon. He grabbed both his holsters, pulled on a pair of boots, and slipped into his FBI windbreaker. On the way out of the room, he ran his hands through his damp hair and pushed the strands into a passable side part. He gave himself a once-over then breezed out the door.

_____

Two hard, loud bangs on the door. Had to be Deacon.

Dade groaned and rolled himself out of bed. He’d had the foresight to put on a clean outfit before falling asleep an hour ago. Sleep in the middle of a case was something that you fit in when you could. Dade had learned that by sleeping in clothes, he could get an extra three minutes of shut-eye.

He was reaching for the door handle when he realized he had put his boots, holster, and badge on while walking to the door and hadn’t even noticed. Dade smiled, impressed with his subconscious.

The door opened to reveal a freshly-showered James standing in the hallway.

“Another girl,” James said as he sidestepped to the door across from Dade and rapped on it. “Can you tell Brenda to call Ada and get her down here?” James asked as he walked toward the elevator.

Dade leaned out into the hallway and raised his eyebrows. “Any reason why?” he asked.

“We need to get this guy, and I need every eye and ear we have.” The elevator arrived and James strode onto it as his phone buzzed, leaving Dade standing alone.

“See you later, then,” Dade called out to the empty hallway. Brenda opened her door, pulled on her jacket, and failed miserably at stifling a deep yawn. “Morning, sunshine. Did you hear that?” Dade asked her.

Brenda checked her holster. “I’m assuming another girl has been found.”

“Yes. But you have a bigger problem.”

Brenda gave him an icy glare. “Do I want to know?”

Dade shot her a playful grin. “Deacon wants Miss Brandt at the latest scene.”

Brenda cursed and slapped her hand against her room door. “I must have done something to really piss him off.”

Dade sauntered past Brenda, tossing her a sly salute. “Better you than me, B.”

Brenda gave him a solid punch to the shoulder. “I’ll be down at the car in a minute.”

As Dade walked to the elevator, Brenda pulled Ada’s number up on her phone, counted to five and pressed “call.”

_____

Ada wasn’t sure if she should ignore her phone or destroy the thing against the nearest wall for waking her out of a rare deep sleep. She gave it four more seconds before jabbing the “answer” button and pressing the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“I know, I’m sure you were asleep. And I’m sure you’re about to chew me out, but I really don’t want to lose my job, so I really don’t care,” Brenda said.

Ada held back the groan burning in the back of her throat. “What’s up?”

Tiny partially unfolded from his curled up sleeping position and shot Ada an indignant look. Ada shrugged at him as she sat up a little more in bed.

There was a moment’s pause. “Another girl was found about an hour ago,” Brenda said slowly, “and Deacon wants everyone to be at the scene.”

Ada let the words marinate in the air for a few seconds before replying. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Ada, look. I know you have reservations—”

“The answer is no. And it’s going to always be no, and you can tell James that.”

Brenda snorted. “Tell him yourself.” She sighed and cleared her throat. “All right, well, keep your phone on you. One of us will probably be calling you.”

“That I can do,” Ada said.

Someone shouted something to Brenda in the background. “I’ve gotta go. Thank you so much for all your help.” Brenda hung up before Ada could respond.

Ada slid down to her back and tossed the phone on the empty pillow beside her. She closed her eyes and tried to beckon that blissful deep sleep back to her.

_____

James watched Brenda walk out of the elevator and make her way to the idling standard black FBI SUV. Dade’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he waited for Brenda to climb in. As soon as she shut the door, he hit the gas and the SUV took off for the exit.

“She meeting us?” James asked, not bothering to turn around to face Brenda.

“No,” Brenda said in a small voice from the middle seat.

Dade glanced up in the rearview mirror and could plainly see Brenda bracing herself for James’s reply.

Surprising both of them, James unbuckled and retrieved his phone from the center console. “Stop the car,” he told Dade.

Dade quickly brought the vehicle to a halt and watched James jump out. “Where are you going?” he asked before the door shut.

James waved him on and walked back to one of the other SUVs. Dade shook his head, muttering under his breath, and proceeded out of the parking garage. Brenda turned back in time to see James peeling out of the parking garage’s south exit.

“I think I know where he’s going,” she said, turning back around as she shook her head.

Dade snorted and turned left. “You gonna warn her?”

Brenda was already tapping away at her phone. “I would pay so much to see this.”

Dade laughed as he activated the windshield wipers to ward off the Seattle drizzle.

_____

Tiny was really not a barker. He tended to save his intimidating deep-throated booms for truly serious situations, like a stranger approaching, or the Thompson’s cat sneaking across the front porch. All other occasions were only given halfhearted humphs.

So, when Ada was jolted awake for a second time that night, this time by Tiny barking relentlessly at an invisible intruder on the other side of the bedroom door, her blood ran a few degrees colder.

“Tiny!” she hissed as she sat up in bed, her eyes glued to the door.

He looked at her for a moment, whined, then turned back to the door and continued barking. As Ada’s eyes adjusted, she could see the hairs at the nape of his neck standing tall. Not a good sign.

Ada willed herself out of bed. She slipped on the nearest pair of shoes and grabbed her phone, ignoring the new message alert. Her fingers tapped in 911 and her thumb hovered over the call button as she tiptoed to the door. She placed her hand on the door knob, squeezed her eyes shut, and yanked the door open. She winced in anticipation of the waiting attacker.

Tiny nearly knocked her to the floor as he rushed out of the room and down the hallway, headed for the front door. Ada slowly peeled her eyes open and was greeting by an empty hallway. She took a few calming breaths and forced herself to follow Tiny.

When she caught up to him, he was doing the same barking routine at the front door. Ada’s heart continued to pound in her ears. Anyone or anything could be on the other side of that door.

She froze in the hallway and stared motionless at the door, still clutching her phone in a death grip. She had no idea what to do. The source of Tiny’s distress decided for her.

Three loud pounds rattled the door. Tiny jumped back a few feet and stopped barking. Ada was sure this was the longest she had gone without breathing.

Another round of bangs sounded on the door. What person wouldn’t use the doorbell?, Ada wondered. Tiny mustered up the courage to slink to the front door and bend down to give the bottom of the door a good sniff. Ada winced at how loud his long inhale sounded in the silence.

“I really hope that’s your dog,” an unfortunately familiar male voice said from the other side of the door.

Ada nearly crumpled to her knees, trying to decide whether to start crying or cursing. “Just a second,” she called as she took a moment to calm herself. She tucked her hair behind her ears, wiped away any mascara streaks from under her eyes, and made sure her pajamas were not overtly exhibitionistic.

She motioned for Tiny to sit and unlocked the front door. She flipped on the porch light as she cracked the door. She squinted for a moment at the brightness of the outdoor bulb light.

James stood before her, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The rain had moved from a drizzle to pounding sheets and had sufficiently drenched James on his five-second sprint from his car to the door.

“Can I come in?” James asked, and it was then that Ada noticed his shivering.

Ada’s hand tightened on the doorknob. The last thing she wanted was to have a conversation with this man. It was far too late, or early, to deal with that drama. However, she found herself opening the door wider and stepping aside so the FBI agent could enter the warmth of her foyer.

As Ada shut the door and locked it, she could hear Tiny sniffing again. She turned and was surprised to see him sniffing James’s open hand. Tiny thoroughly investigated every smell on James’s skin and finally decided that he wasn’t there to murder them. He leaned all of his 145 pounds against James’s leg and whipped his tail.

“He’s never warmed up to someone that quickly.” Ada turned on the foyer light and moved to stand in front of James.

She was surprised to see a slight grin on the agent’s usually stern face. “We had a dog growing up. I’ve always gotten along with them pretty well,” James mused as he scratched a spot behind Tiny’s ear. The dog tilted his head toward the touch.

Ada watched James and Tiny for a moment, then crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “What can I help you with, James?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

The delight left James’s face as Ada’s words snapped him back to business. “Get dressed. I need you to come with me.”

“Where?”

“You know where.”

“Then you know I’m not going.”

James’s jaw tightened. “Then neither am I.”

The death glares exchanged between them would have killed lesser men. Neither wanted to be the first to crack.

Tiny must have sensed the tension and decided it was too much. He pushed away from James and trotted away into the kitchen. A few moments later he could be heard taking large laps of water from his bowl.

James studied Ada, noted the bags and dark coloring under her eyes. She wasn’t sleeping well. Her crossed arms also betrayed her discomfort at his presence. James knew that he needed to get Ada comfortable and in a better mental space in order to get her to cooperate.

He increased his shivering a little more and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s talk about it,” he offered.

Ada raised her eyebrows at his sudden attitude change. She felt bad about how he was shivering now, and as much as she disliked the man, she couldn’t make him stand in the foyer forever.

She pushed off from the wall and headed to the kitchen, not saying a word. She would talk to him, but she didn’t have to like it. She heard the click of his boots on the floor as he slowly followed her.

Ada flipped the light on as she came into the kitchen, and the pendant lights hanging above the kitchen island illuminated the room in a soft glow. She set about whipping up a quick pot of coffee. So much for sleep, she thought wearily as she pressed the brew button and pulled two mugs down from a cabinet.

James pulled out one of the stools at the island and sat down. He slid out of his thoroughly soaked windbreaker and draped it over the stool next to his. He watched Ada pull the creamer out of her refrigerator and transfer the sugar bowl from the counter to the island. Good, she was offering him something. She was starting to relax a little.

He cast a few glances around the kitchen, not surprised to see it was perfectly organized. Not so much as a spoon out of place.

“Your kitchen reminds me of my mom’s,” he said, breaking the silence.

The corners of Ada’s mouth tightened into a third of a smile. She poured coffee into the two mugs and walked over to the island. She stretched across and placed a mug in front of James then quickly retreated back to lean against the sink.

James pulled the mug to him and added a quick pour of cream and two scoops of sugar. He carefully took a sip and winced a little as he placed the piping hot mug back down on the island. “I’ll come back to that.”

A slightly brighter smile pulled at Ada’s lips as she took a sip of her coffee. James watched her swallow and place the mug on the counter behind her. She firmly planted both palms on her hips and met James’s gaze with a pair of stern, tired eyes.

“So talk, James,” Ada said in a small voice. “You know how I feel about this whole,” Ada waved one hand in the air, “being on-scene thing.”

James took a mental sigh and took a long gulp of coffee. He knew he was about to need the energy boost. “I guess I just want to know why you’re so apprehensive about it,” he replied, “and if there’s anything I can do to alleviate that.”

Ada surprised him by letting out a quick, scoffing laugh. “Why the sudden nice act?” she demanded. “I know you don’t care ‘why,’ you just want to drag me down to that crime scene.”

Something sinister crept into James’s eyes that almost scared Ada.

“That can still be arranged,” he growled.

“That’s the only way I’m leaving this house tonight,” Ada shot back.

James’s hand tightened around his mug so hard that Ada was just waiting for it to shatter. He lowered his head for a moment and when he looked back at her, the intensity had left his eyes and was replaced with something she could really only describe as exhausted defeat. “Just help me understand why you insist on being a hermit,” he pleaded.

Skeptical at his abrupt surrender, Ada decided to test him. “I don’t think it’s anything you can just talk me out of, James.”

James stood and walked over to pour himself some more coffee. He held the pot toward Ada and raised his eyebrows. She shook her head at his offer. Instead of returning to his seat, he strode to the other side of the island and stood leaning back against it, now a few feet from Ada. She didn’t like the sudden proximity.

“Look, I get it. I know what happened to you when your mother died. Any normal human being would be affected by that,” James said.

“I guess I have a file?” Ada scoffed, growing increasingly uncomfortable.

“After Patrick suggested you as an analyst, I pulled all your father’s case files. Studied up a bit,” James replied, sipping away at his coffee again.

Ada bristled at the mention of her father. “That hardly qualifies you to understand my feelings.”

“You woke up the morning after your father killed your mother, and found a trail of blood leading from your bed to the basement. You followed it down into the basement and found your mother’s body in pieces.”

Ada’s breathing grew shallow. She gripped the edge of counter until her knuckles were bone-white.

James continued. “Your father then locked you in the basement and left the house before anyone came knocking.” He put his mug down and walked two steps toward Ada. “I know you sat in that basement, with your mother’s body, for almost five hours before police showed up. I know you didn’t speak a word for a month after that.” He continued to close the distance between them. “I know you were asked questions, over and over, about every detail of that crime scene by cops and lawyers and FBI agents. I know they even brought you back to that basement to see if you could identify anything down there that would help them find the other women your father killed.”

Ada squeezed her eyes shut as images of the basement started flashing through her brain in bursts.

“So, you tell me. Does that qualify me as at least knowledgeable of what you went through?”

James’s voice was booming. Ada’s eyes flew open and she gasped when she saw that he was now standing directly in front of her, maybe a foot of space between them.

“I know the amount of therapy that you had to go through, Ada. Going through something like that leaves a lot of damage,” James said, his voice softening slightly. “And I know the anniversary of your mother’s death was a few days ago.”

He grabbed a napkin from behind him on the island and handed it to Ada. She took it from him, confused, then realized how damp her cheeks and shirt were. Embarrassed, she quickly swept the tears away with the napkin.

“I have some scars,” Ada said shakily. “I worked really hard to not fall into a complete meltdown every time I thought about ... my mom.” Her voice broke for a moment as her nose caught a phantom stench of blood. She shook her head and clenched her hands in fists, the tears pouring from her eyes again.

Two firm hands gently closed around her shoulders and suddenly she felt grounded. The stench left her nostrils and the quivering in her hands started to subside. Mortified at this sudden outpouring of emotion, she shrugged away from James and went to throw out her sopping tangle of napkin.

James watched her trudge back from the trash can. She lowered herself onto his abandoned stool and crossed her arms on top of the island counter. James tipped forward onto his elbows across from Ada and laced his fingers together. “Face it, Ada,” he said gently.

Ada frowned at him. “Face it? Face what?”

“Everything. It’s still controlling you, no matter what your therapists have told you.”

“And you think that going to a crime scene will suddenly cure all my wounds?” Ada asked, the cynicism dripping in her tone.

James didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

For a moment, Ada wanted to laugh at his flippant answer. Then she realized he was serious. The smile left her face and was replaced with a fuming grimace. “What are you now, a shrink?”

“A highly trained FBI agent whose job revolves around analyzing and identifying human thought and emotion,” James replied.

Ada had no biting retort to that. She knew at that moment that he had her pinned in a corner, and there was no slinking past him. She tried desperately to think of a valid argument against his proposal. Nothing came to her.

James watched all of this play across her face and felt a celebratory smile start to pull at his lips. He’d played her right where he needed her and she’d hardly put up a fight. He was a bit surprised at how easy it had been.

“We’ll take it one scene at a time,” he assured her as he straightened. “I only need you to observe. You’re new to the case, so you might see something the rest of us glaze over.”

Feeling utterly defeated, Ada picked up his still damp windbreaker and handed it to him. “When do you need me there?” she asked.

“Team’s already there and waiting on us.”

Ada glanced at the oven clock and groaned inwardly. She had class in less than 7 hours.

“You’ll be back in time to get a couple hours sleep. I promise.”

Feeling like a child on her way to the dentist, Ada stood to her feet and started for her bedroom. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” she muttered to James as she trudged past him.

James zipped up his jacket and followed her out, detouring to the foyer while she continued down the hall to her bedroom. He watched her for a moment then cleared his throat and pulled the car keys from his pocket. “I’ll be in the car,” he called to her then strode out the front door.

CHAPTER 8

For as long as she had been in law enforcement, Brenda still felt uncomfortable the first few moments at a crime scene. It probably had something to do with the fact that the body sprawled before her was full of life not long ago. She couldn’t help but think about who might be missing this person.

She realized she had been standing a few paces back from the latest body, just staring. Hoping no one had noticed, she pulled out her phone and pretended to be searching for something. She wondered why Ada had never texted her back.

“Any word yet on the prize fight?”

Brenda rolled her eyes at Dade as he approached her. “Not yet,” she replied. “I’m kind of hoping Deacon got lost.”

Dade chuckled and wagged his finger at Brenda. “You’re getting better at this humor thing, you know.”

“Bite me.”

“Gladly,” Dade said as he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Ugh.” Brenda drove a solid punch into his upper arm.

Dade stumbled back like she’d hit him with a car. “Geez, what was that?”

“My version of a cold shower,” Brenda replied sweetly. She waved dismissively at his show of pain and nodded at the girl lying a few feet away, splayed out like a dropped rag doll. “We have a job to do.”

Dade gave his bicep one last rub and gestured to one of the cops milling around the scene. “Officer Hargrave over there said the woman’s name is Lana Rames. One of her friends IDed her. She went missing from a nightclub earlier tonight, not too far from here.”

“Tonight? Why the sudden increase in kill time?” Brenda wondered. She walked up to the body and knelt down. “She appears to be around the same age as the others. But that’s not really enough to make this our guy. Why do the police think it is?”

Dade crouched down beside her and pulled on a glove. He carefully pulled Lana’s lower lip down toward her chin, exposing deep crimson tick marks sliced into the pink skin of Lana’s inner lip. “They figured this wasn’t random,” he said as he let go of the lip.

Brenda sighed and stood up. “I don’t get this guy. Why mark something and leave it? Usually, you mark something because you want to keep it. He’s marking them and leaving.”

“He’s probably taking pictures. The marks might be to help him keep track of who’s who.” Dade straightened and surveyed the alley. “No cameras around here. The killer probably knew that.”

“So, he’s planning. Great,” Brenda sighed.

Movement at the opening of the alley caught their attention. The police at the barricade parted to allow a car through. The black SUV came to a stop alongside Dade’s car, and the driver door opened. James hopped out and walked around the front of the car.

Dade and Brenda shared a knowing glance and started toward James. They both halted when James opened the passenger door and helped Ada out of the car.

“I’ll be damned,” Dade muttered.

Brenda mustered a small smile and waved at Ada. Ada halfheartedly returned the wave as she and James joined them.

“You’re staring,” James mumbled to Dade as he motioned Ada forward. “Dade, this is our temporary analyst Ada Brandt.”

Dade thrust out his hand and shook firmly as soon as Ada’s small hand slipped into his. “Glad to finally meet you,” he greeted. “Sorry about staring, just surprised to see you here.”

“You’re not the only one,” Ada replied. She glanced at Brenda. “Good to see you.”

Brenda stepped up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’re glad to have a fresh pair of eyes.”

Ada’s eyes fluttered to the partially covered body a few yards before her.

Brenda noted Ada’s clenching fists and quickening breath. “Come on, I’ll get you up to speed on what we know.” Brenda put an arm around Ada’s shoulders and led her over to Dade’s car.

Dade shook his head with a chuckle as Brenda and Ada walked off. “You, sir, never fail to impress,” he said to James.

James shrugged. “I needed her here.” He pulled on a pair of gloves and took out his flashlight. “I don’t know why Brenda can’t get through to her. She just needed a little push.”

Dade decided not to press the issue and turned his attention to the case. “Here, let me show you what the responding officers found.”

_____

“So, are you OK?” Brenda asked as she handed Ada a pair of latex gloves.

Ada took the gloves like they were made of glass and stared at them for a moment, her eyes widening slightly. “Define OK,” she mumbled.

Brenda grinned and wriggled her gloved hands in front of her. “You put them on. Like this,” she teased.

Ada pulled the gloves on and grimaced. “I guess this means I’m getting my hands dirty?”

“No. Just making sure you don’t contaminate.”

This seemed to calm Ada’s nerves. She took a deep breath and glanced over at James and Dade kneeling beside the body. “James didn’t say much on the way here. What am I supposed to do, exactly?”

Brenda handed her a flashlight. “Just look around. See if you see something that you recognize or find interesting. Any little thing could help.”

Ada frowned at her. “That’s it?”

Brenda shrugged. “Crime scenes aren’t always big and scary.”

“Thanks,” Ada sneered and walked toward the scene.

There was more activity than Ada had pictured there would be. Press and passersby corralled at the mouth of the alley. Police and FBI agents milled around, trying to gather evidence before the Seattle drizzle ruined it. There was a lone helicopter overhead, scanning the surrounding alleys and roads with a giant spotlight. And then there was Lana, the eye of the hurricane of law enforcement flocking around her. Ada decided to stay away from her as long as possible.

Ada clicked her flashlight on and scanned the ground. Between the various piles of trash and the glare of the puddles in the harsh light of the flashlight, Ada had no idea how she was supposed to see anything at all. She was beginning to gain a deeper appreciation for the forensic work she’d spent much of her adult life studying.

“See anything?”

Ada whipped around. Dade was standing a few feet from her, hands planted on his hips. He shot her a grin that Ada decided was better left ignored. “You’ve gotta give me some warning,” she breathed as tucked a soggy strand of hair behind her ear.

“Sorry,” Dade said as he handed her a ball cap. “This might make things a little better.”

Ada gladly took the hat, slipped her hair under it and pulled it snugly against her head. “Thank you ... Dade?” she asked, uncertain.

“Yeah. My parents wanted a name that none of the other kids would have.” Dade chuckled. “It’s not easily forgotten. Usually.” He shot Ada a wink and grinned again.

Ok, hotshot, time to cool down, Ada mused silently. She changed the subject. “Have you found another marking?”

“Yep, just like the others. This one’s on the inside of her lip. I’ll show you,” Dade said as he started toward Lana.

“Dammit,” Ada grunted as she slowly followed after him.

Dade crouched next to the body and pulled Lana’s lower lip down. Ada glanced down at it quickly and then looked away with a nod. Her arms were crossed so tightly, she fully expected bruising.

It looked like Dade was saying something to her, but he sounded a million miles away. The damp air suddenly grew musty. Everything in the alley went dark except for Lana’s body. Except it wasn’t Lana anymore. Mary Brandt’s opaque and gaping eyes stared up at Ada. A wide pool of blood radiated out from her diced up body. The pool crept closer and closer to Ada’s feet. She could smell that metallic blood tang again. It ate away at her nostrils like the foulest of odors. Ada backed against a wall and squeezed her eyes shut so tightly they felt like they might burst.

_____

Brenda zipped her jacket to her chin and shivered. She glanced over her shoulder to see where Dade had wandered off to. The first thing she saw was Dade rising out of a crouch, his hands held out in front of him like he was talking someone off a ledge. Brenda turned completely toward him and Ada came into view. She was pressed back against a building, slamming her fists repeatedly into the brick wall behind her.

In three seconds, Brenda was in front of Ada, gingerly placing her hands on her shoulders. “Ada. Open your eyes.” She heard Dade walk up behind her and she tossed a venomous glare at him. “What did you do to her?” She demanded.

“I was showing her the marking and then she just … froze.” The tightness in Dade’s face told Brenda that he felt guilty.

Brenda shook her head and turned back to Ada. “She’s having some kind of an episode. Something must have triggered a memory.” She added more force to her grip and shook Ada. “Ada. It’s Brenda. You need to open your eyes.”

_____

Someone was shaking her. Or maybe she was shaking, she had no idea. All she knew was that if she opened her eyes, her mother’s body would still be stretched out before her. Someone called her name. Infuriated at her inability to control her mind, Ada continued to pound her fists against the wall behind her, welcoming the pain that tethered her to the present.

“Ada, stop!”

Brenda’s voice cut through the fog of Ada’s subconscious. Against her will, Ada’s eyes flew open. Brenda was standing inches away from her, her hands gripping Ada’s shoulders. Dade stood a few paces away, scrutinizing Ada’s behavior with narrowed eyes. James and another agent stood further back, speaking in hushed tones.

Ada felt a stinging and realized she had broken the latex gloves and shredded the sides of her hands against the brick wall behind her. She sheepishly dug her hands into her pockets and cleared her throat.

“Come on, you’re done,” Brenda said firmly, gently prying Ada off the wall and directing her to one of the black SUVs.

James intercepted them. “I need you to talk to the girl who reported Lana missing,” he said to Brenda, “Take Ada with you.”

“Sir, with all due respect, she’s not in any shape—”

“She’s fine,” James interrupted and pointed to the police barricade. “Ask the officers and they’ll direct you to the girl. She might have something on the killer.”

Brenda clenched her teeth together and Ada winced as her grip on her arm tightened. “Will do,” Brenda said and walked the two of them toward the barricade.

Ada pulled her hands from her pockets and stripped off the torn gloves. She placed a hand over Brenda’s and the agent let go of her shoulder. “Bastard,” Brenda spat. “He doesn’t have a shred of sensitivity in him.”

“I’m OK,” Ada said shakily as they neared the barricade. “I just needed to get away from ... that.”

“No, you’re not OK. You just had a panic attack. You shouldn’t be here,” Brenda grumbled. She took a deep breath and her expression went blank. “Excuse me,” she said to one of the officers. “Agent Deacon said you had a woman here who reported the deceased missing?”

The officer nodded and waved to someone in the crowd. “Her name is Bethany. That’s all we’ve been able to get out of her. She’s pretty torn up.”

“Understandably,” Brenda mumbled as a blonde woman in her late twenties shuffled up to the barricade. “Bethany? I’m Agent Stine. This is Miss Brandt. We’re with the FBI.”

Bethany looked like she’d been standing out in the rain for hours. All traces of makeup had washed down her face, and her hair was soaked and matted against her head. Her once flashy club getup was now ruined and sagging. She clutched her purse in her hands like it was her most prized possession on earth.

“I already spoke to the cops,” she said, her voice uneasy and cracking. “They know everything I know.”

Brenda motioned for the officer closest to her to allow the woman under the barricade. “We just have a couple of questions for you. It won’t take long. Why don’t we go someplace dry?”

Bethany crouched under the barricade and silently followed Ada and Brenda to the closest SUV. Brenda opened the door and ushered Ada and Bethany inside. Ada slipped into the third row seat and let Bethany and Brenda settle into the two middle bucket seats. Bethany sat silent, shivering uncontrollably, but still clutching the purse. Ada noted that the purse really didn’t match Bethany’s outfit.

Brenda unwrapped an emergency blanket and draped it around Bethany. “This should warm you up a little,” she said.

Bethany pulled the blanket tighter around her and gave Brenda a small smile. “Th-thank you,” she stuttered, her teeth chattering so hard they sounded like they might shatter.

“So, when did you realize Lana was missing?” Brenda asked.

“When she di-didn’t come back to the c-club,” Bethany said. “It wasn’t like her to j-just leave with someone like th-that.”

“Did you see who she left with?”

Bethany shook her head. “He had a hat on. His f-face was hidden.” Bethany’s face crumpled and she took in a heaving breath. “I t-told Lana to go talk to him!” she cried. “He had been wa-watching her the whole time we were there.”

Ada couldn’t help but feel sorry for Bethany. She had unknowingly led her friend to her death. That wasn’t something that would leave her any time soon.

Brenda found a pack of tissues in a seat pocket and passed them to Bethany. She waited for her to mop up her tears before continuing. “Did you see where Lana went with this man?”

Bethany sniffed a few times, rolling the tissue around between her fingers. “I realized Lana had left her purse, so I went outside to see if she was out there talking to that guy.” Bethany paused for a moment to blow her nose. “When I went out there, they were driving by, and Lana put down her window and told me she’d be back to get her stuff.”

“Did you get a good look at the car?” Brenda asked.

Bethany shook her head, her lip quivering again. “I just turned around and went back inside the club.”

Ada turned her attention to the purse and spoke for the first time. “So, this is Lana’s?”

Bethany whipped her head toward her and tightened her grip on the bag. “The police already looked through it. They said I could keep it.”

Ada softened her expression and reached a hand toward Bethany. “Can I just look through it one more time? You’ll get it right back, I promise.”

Bethany froze for a few moments, contemplating. Slowly, she placed the purse straps in Ada’s hands and watched as she pulled it to her.

Brenda handed Ada another pair of gloves. Ada winced as she pulled the gloves on over her scraped up hands. She opened the purse and carefully pulled out its items. It contained the usual suspects: a wallet, cell phone, cosmetic case, a key ring with a few keys on it.

Someone knocked on Brenda’s window. She put the window down to reveal James standing beside the car. “Anything?” he asked.

Bethany ignored James and continued to watch Ada inventory the purse. Brenda shook her head. “Not really. She didn’t get a good look at the killer or his vehicle.”

James leaned in the window and frowned at Ada. “What’s she doing?” he asked Brenda.

Ada glanced up at him. “This is Lana’s purse. I’m just seeing if there’s anything in here.”

James nodded but didn’t say a word.

Ada pulled out a folded piece of construction paper and carefully opened it. It was a child’s drawing of a sunflower. It was signed, but all Ada could make out was an “O.” She held the paper up to show Bethany. “Did Lana have any children?”

Bethany gasped and buried her face in her hands. “I forgot about Olivia!” she sobbed.

Ada heard a sharp inhale and realized it had come from James. She glanced at him. His face had gone a few shades lighter and his hands clenched the door.

Brenda looked at him but didn’t say anything.

James’s eyes fixed on the drawing as Ada gently folded it up.

“Was Lana married? Is there someone we can call?” Ada asked as she placed the drawing, with the rest of the items, back into Lana’s purse.

Bethany shook her head and took the purse back from Ada. “Lana lived by herself. Olivia was staying at a friend’s house tonight while we went out.” Giant tears poured from Bethany’s eyes. “Lana was all Olivia had. No father, no grandparents, nothing. Just her.”

Ada’s heart ached. She couldn’t help but sympathize. “We’ll have someone go get Olivia. I’m sure you can go with them, if you’d like.”

Bethany nodded. “Lana would want me to,” she whispered.

James opened Brenda’s door, and Brenda stepped out so Bethany could exit the SUV. “I’ll take her to one of the officers,” James told Brenda as he led Bethany to a police car. “Take Miss Brandt home then go get some sleep. You look like hell.”

Brenda nodded and opened the driver door. She climbed in and started the car. “You don’t have to stay back there, you know,” she called back to Ada.

Ada climbed up into the front passenger seat and buckled up as Brenda drove to the barricade and waited for the police to clear a path. “Did you notice James’s face when Bethany mentioned Lana’s daughter?” Ada asked.

Brenda shrugged. “My back was to him,” she said.

Ada knew Brenda was lying, but she was too tired to dig.

“We’ll have you home soon.” Brenda drove forward and turned onto the street. She yawned and rubbed one of her eyes.

Ada sank back into her seat and watched Seattle whiz past her, trying to ignore the subtle hints of the nearing sunrise.

_____

“Dad!”

John forced a grin across his weary face as he entered the hotel room. He pulled off his ball cap and tossed it on the rickety table under the room’s window. He groaned as Jane grabbed him and tried as best she could to wrap her arms around his waist. He smoothed down the ratty red curls on top of Jane’s head.

“I thought I told you to go to sleep?” he said as he scooped the little girl into his arms and carried her to one of the room’s beds. He winced at how far Jane sank into the creaking mattress as he tucked her back under the covers.

“I can’t sleep by myself, Dad.” Jane pushed her lower lip out in a move that brought unpleasant memories of her mother to John’s mind.

He pulled the uncomfortably crisp sheets up close to Jane’s chin and tapped the tip of her nose. “Well, now you don’t have any excuses. Get to sleep.”

Jane grinned, her twin dimples appearing on either side of her rosy lips. She turned to face the wall and sighed happily.

John reached over and shut off the lamp, sending the room to black. He trudged to the room’s ancient bathroom and wedged the door shut. He whipped the shower on and stripped off his clothes. As steam began to fill the room, John retrieved a garbage bag from under the sink and tossed his outfit into it. He placed the bag in front of the door so that he wouldn’t forget to toss it after he had scrubbed his body clean.

He stepped into the shower and dumped the remainder of the miniscule hotel shampoo into his hand. Lathering it up in his hands, he vigorously scrubbed his scalp and thick brown locks. As he rinsed, he wondered if this bone-deep weariness his body perpetually warred against was similar to what soldiers fresh from battle felt like. He was not unlike them, he mused. Both were attempting to rid the world of evil before it could sink its fangs into society any further. Both were driven by a desire to defend that most precious to them. Both were generally unsung heroes.

John winced as his hand throbbed. He held it up and was shocked to see a bruise spanning the entire side of his hand. It had either been the side of his hand or his forehead when the woman from the club had reared back to head butt him, so he had gone with the body part that would be less noticeable. A strange grin sprouted as he thought back on how feisty this one had been. He had yet to meet one so hell-bent on maintaining an air of innocence. Still, in the end, she was no better than those before her.

The steam had filled the small bathroom completely. Every inhale of it tickled the back of John’s throat. He tilted his head back and let the water wash away the remainder of the night. Tomorrow was a new day, a new mission. He shivered as a spike of anticipation raced up his spine.

_____

James slammed the door behind him, rushed into his hotel room, and yanked curtains shut. He wanted the room as dark as possible. He’d told the team to get at least three hours of down time before they regrouped, and he had urged them to use that time to sleep.

He stripped off his drenched clothes and tossed them into at the closet. He grabbed a casual outfit and quickly showered to warm up his chilled body. Once his skin was nice and scalding, he went back to his room and pulled on a sweatshirt and pair of shorts then sank down on the edge of his bed.

He stared down at his hands for a moment, rubbing them together absentmindedly. He still felt numb, but no longer from the cold. He sat staring into nothing for twenty minutes before he came to. He stood and crossed the room in three strides. He bent down and opened the mini fridge, pulled out a miniature bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and stared at it in his hand. He finally straightened and kicked the fridge door shut before throwing himself into the desk chair.

Slumping down into the stiff office chair, James twisted the bottle open and tossed the cap onto the desk. He paused for a moment, waiting for his mind to scream at him to stop. When no such outcry came, he brought the bottle to his lips and began tipping the soothing amber liquid toward his mouth.

A car drove by and its headlights shined briefly through a small slit between the curtains. The light illuminated the desk and James’s gaze was drawn to the wallet he’d tossed haphazardly onto the desk when he’d entered the room. A small piece of yellow paper poked out from the folded, cracked leather, and James could not ignore it.

He put the bottle down and reluctantly pulled the wallet to him. With one hand, he flicked it open and slowly pulled the yellow paper out. Careful not to tear its well-worn creases, he unfolded the paper and stared at it.

It was a child’s drawing of a house with a giant smiling sun in one corner and a stick figure family of three standing in front of the house. In the bottom right corner of the paper was a scribbled name that most would not be able to make out. But James could. He had stared at those scribbles countless times over the past three years. He could draw them out from memory. “Luv, Olivia,” scribbled in light blue crayon. The two words featured a variety of upper and lowercase letters typical of a 5-year-old’s spelling and handwriting.

James felt his throat begin to tighten. Shock washed over him as he folded the paper up quickly and slid it back into his wallet. Every time he thought he’d gotten past the raw heartache and infuriating helplessness, everything resurfaced. He felt his breathing begin to grow shallow and rapid and knew the fury would soon surface.

His hand reached for the Jack Daniel’s again, but now he paused. He shut his eyes and counted to five. The stress of this case made him want to throw the months without a drop of alcohol away for a few hours of peace. The reminder of Olivia on top of everything else was almost too much to bear. The sweet relief beckoning to him from that minuscule bottle was almost audible.

You’re no help to her a drunken failure, that faint voice in the back of his head whispered. He looked at the bottle his fingers had coiled around. He’d almost lost his career, his life, to what he clutched in his hand. Sheer luck had gotten him sober. Yet, here he was, ready to lose it all again.

“Not today,” he growled and recapped the bottle. He tossed it into the trash can and breathed deeply when he heard it shatter at the bottom. He made his way to bed and collapsed on top of the cold sheets. Seconds later he fell into a fitful sleep.

CHAPTER 9

Ada pulled up to the red light and took the opportunity to down a few swigs of coffee. She had ten minutes to get to campus, set up for class, and begin the midterm exam. And she was still five minutes away. It was going to be one of those days thanks to James Deacon and the FBI. The light turned green, and Ada lunged forward from the light, putting her coupe’s sport heritage to the test. She’d rather face a speeding ticket than the wrath of Dean Bridges.

She flew onto campus and into her parking spot exactly four minutes later. She jumped out of her car and raced into the building, flew up the stairs, and half-jogged, half-ran into her classroom seconds before crowds filled the hallway. As students trickled into the classroom, Ada quickly arranged her desk. She stacked the exams in one corner and piled her laptop and notes on the other side. While the students took their exams, she would use the downtime to prepare for the next series of lectures.

A student on her way to her seat detoured to Ada’s desk. “Professor Greene?” she asked timidly.

Ada settled into her seat and gave the student a quick smile. “Yes?” She desperately tried to remember the girl’s name.

Thankfully, the student helped her out. “I’m Anna.” She smiled bashfully. “You don’t know me. I kind of keep to myself.”

“You sit right over there, right?” Ada pointed to a seat in a corner of the upper row of seats.

Anna smiled and nodded. Then the smile left her face and she leaned toward Ada, clutching her textbooks tight against her. “Is it true that you’re helping the FBI?” she whispered.

Ada found herself speechless. Tiffany was going to die for her inability to keep her mouth shut. Her mind raced for a reply. “I’m looking over a few files, but nothing major.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Who told you?”

“I was headed to your office the other day to hand in my extra credit assignment, and I saw that agent leaving your office. I saw her badge on her belt when she walked by.”

Time for damage control. “Well, a friend of the family asked if I would help out by taking a look at some files. It’s just for a couple of days.” She forced a smile. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Anna cracked a grin and blushed a little. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking you were leaving or anything,” she said. “I just thought it was cool. You know, because of Tina.” Anna’s voice caught a little, and she cleared her throat quickly.

“The FBI is going to find whoever killed Tina. And whatever I can do to help them, I will,” Ada assured her as she stood and picked up the stack of exams. Anna gave her a quick smile then quickly retreated to her seat.

“I hope everyone had a chance to really study for this,” Ada said as she passed out exams to a weary-looking classroom. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s been on the syllabus since August.”

While students hunched over their exams, Ada returned to her desk and lowered down into her chair, savoring the plush cushion. The chair was suddenly the most comfortable thing in the world. Her eyelids gained ten pounds. She soon realized she had been staring at her unopened laptop for a good minute.

Ada brought her coffee mug to her lips and downed the last few drops. That would have to hold her over for the next forty minutes. She opened her computer and waited for it to wake up. Pulling out her notebook of class schedules, she glanced over what she’d be teaching for the next week.

Her mind wandered as she browsed through her lecture on accurate criminology terms for fiction. She rolled her eyes inwardly when she saw that she had included a snippet from The River on a lecture slide. She must have been drunk when she came up with the presentation.

She forced herself to read through the excerpt. It wasn’t as bad as she had envisioned. The scene involved the main character interviewing a group of prostitutes for a description of the killer. Ada remembered being particularly impressed with how she had woven terminology so fluidly into the dialogue.

Her mind transitioned to the case. If this killer was truly a copycat of the Green River Killer, why wasn’t he targeting prostitutes? None of the victims were hookers or had a history of promiscuous activity. This nagging inconsistency was the one thing holding Ada back from fully committing to the copycat theory.

When a student suddenly cleared his throat, Ada jumped so hard her knees hit the underside of the desk. A line of six students stretched out from her desk, all of them holding their completed exams and looking at Ada like she had grown a few extra heads. She glanced at the time and realized she’d drifted off for almost twenty minutes. Smiling sheepishly, she held out her hand to take their exams.

One by one, the students deposited their exams and left the classroom. As soon as the door shut behind them, Ada turned away from the remaining students and slipped her phone out of her pocket. She dialed Brenda and lowered her voice as the call went straight to the agent’s voicemail.

“Brenda, it’s Ada.” Ada considered her words before she continued. “Something about our killer not targeting prostitutes is bothering me. We need to look through everything you have. We’ve got to be missing something. Call me so we can work out the details.”

_____

“She does realize she’s the analyst, right?” Dade asked as he and Brenda walked off the elevator and headed down the hallway toward the cluster of FBI hotel rooms. “Not the lead agent.”

“She just wants to look through everything,” Brenda soothed. They reached the section of hallway outside of James’s room. Brenda glanced at Dade hopefully. “You want to tell him?”

Dade took a sip of his coffee and ducked into his room, giving Brenda a tiny wave as his door shut.

Brenda cursed him under her breath and took a large gulp of her latte. At least the team had been able to get a couple hours shut-eye. They were better with some sleep than with none. Maybe James would emerge from his room a more receptive human being.

Quietly but firmly, Brenda rapped her knuckles against James’s door three times and then stepped away from the door.

When the door opened only moments later and a completely dressed James looked out at her, Brenda groaned inwardly. He hadn’t slept. “Yes?” he asked curtly.

Brenda waved her phone. “Ada called, left me an interesting voicemail.”

James waved her into his hotel room and walked back to the bathroom. Brenda felt uneasy as she walked into his room and shut the door behind her. She stayed as close to the door as possible, clutching her coffee and phone. “I was going to go talk with her,” Brenda called to James, who was still in the bathroom, the door cracked. Her curiosity got the better of her. She leaned forward a little and through the cracked door caught a glimpse of James tossing pills into his mouth.

She straightened and pretended to check her phone as James shut off the light in the bathroom then stepped back into the room. He grabbed his jacket and badge and walked toward the door. “I’ll come with you,” he said, more a statement than a request.

Brenda opened the door before James reached it and stepped out into the hallway. It was empty, thank goodness. Last thing she needed were tongues wagging about her leaving James’s room.

“She wants to go through everything we have. She thinks we’re missing a key detail to the motive,” Brenda explained as she trailed after James to the elevator. Reaching the elevator, James pushed the down button and Brenda caught a glimpse of the tired lines around his eyes and noted the slightly pale tint to his skin. “Get any sleep?” she asked him.

“I’m fine,” he replied sharply. The elevator arrived and they stepped into it. As Brenda pushed the button for the garage and the elevator began its descent, she watched James lean against the wall and knew he was far from fine.

_____

Jamming the exams under her arm, Ada slung her hastily repacked computer bag over her shoulder and bolted from her classroom. Brenda had texted her that she was on her way to meet her. Ada hoped she had enough time to grab another coffee before the agent showed up.

Ada got to the Casey Building in record time. She reached the “faculty row” hallway and rounded the corner. As she brushed past her fellow professors’ offices, she thought she heard a professor call out to her. She ducked her head and quickened her pace down the hallway.

“Hello!” Ada heard someone shout, right before she face-planted into James Deacon’s chest.

Everything in her arms fell to the floor like loud, fluttering snowflakes. Her computer bag landed on her foot, the quizzes went airborne all across the hallway, and her phone slipped from her hand, plummeting toward the lethal hardwood floor. James’s hand closed around the phone just as it passed his knees.

Ada clutched her throbbing nose and touched her fingertips under her nostrils to check for blood. The last time she had felt this stupid she’d forgotten to put makeup on half her face on final speech day in high school. Satisfied her nose wasn’t broken, she bent down and started picking everything up, hoping her flaming cheeks were hidden. James and Brenda knelt down to help her. When everything had been retrieved, Ada led them into her office and quickly shut the door behind them.

“I am so sorry. I was trying to get back to my office as quickly as I could—” Ada said.

“It’s fine,” James said. “We’re all a little out of it right now.” He studied her face, focusing on her nose. “Are you OK? You hit pretty hard.”

Ada felt the burning flush whisk back to her cheeks, and she charged for her desk. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve got a solid head,” she said quickly, wincing immediately. Solid head. Smooth, Brandt.

“That’s ... good,” James said slowly. He brought his handful of exam papers to Ada’s desk and placed them with the others. He lowered his voice and grinned. “I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

“I figured you’d live,” Ada shot back. She met his eyes and realized he was teasing her. She fought the urge to curse at his snarky expression.

Brenda placed the final chunk of exams on Ada’s desk. “So, you want to look at everything?” she asked.

James back away from Ada’s desk and lowered himself into one of the armchairs across from it. Brenda remained standing and crossed her arms, looking expectantly at Ada.

Ada collected herself and sank down into her desk chair. She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “Gary Ridgway killed prostitutes all over Washington because he hated them, felt religiously compelled to kill them.”

The agents remained silent.

“Our suspect isn’t targeting prostitutes,” Ada continued.

James held up his hand to pause her. “Our suspect is using the same kill method. He’s dumping the bodies in a similar fashion. Whether he’s targeting prostitutes or not, there are enough similarities to justify the idea that our suspect is at the very least using Ridgway as an inspiration.”

“The first girl killed was kind of an escort,” Brenda said, “Her friend said she did it to help pay for vet school. No one really knew that, though.”

Ada bit at the inside of her lip. “I get the feeling our suspect murdered the first victim accidentally. Once he got over the shock of what he did, he realized he liked it. I agree that he identifies with Ridgway. I just don’t think he shares his motive.”

“Which means we can’t rely entirely on Ridgway’s profile to find this suspect,” Brenda said, her wheels beginning to turn.

Ada sighed and collapsed back into her chair. “I know you’re going to hate me, but I think we need to start from the beginning. There’s a reason he’s killing like Ridgway but not following his MO.”

James wiped a hand over his bleak eyes and cleared his throat. “I’ll leave that to you two. As soon as you have something, let me know and we’ll get an updated profile to the local PD.” He stood stiffly from his chair and ran a hand through his closely cropped hair. “I have family and friend interviews to conduct. I’ll send someone to get you when you’re done,” he told Brenda.

Giving Ada a quick nod, James left the room, tapping away at his phone. As the door shut behind him, Ada clamped her hands over her face. “I look like a total idiot. That had to be the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done,” she moaned.

“That’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?” Brenda snorted. “You need to get out more.”

Ada ignored her and carefully sifted all the exam papers together then slipped the stack into her computer bag. “So, can we grab some food before we get started?”

Brenda glanced at her phone. “I’m gonna grab everything we need from the station. I’ll meet you at your place in an hour or so?”

“It’s a date.” Ada grinned and led the way out of the office.

_____

James pulled into a parking space at the front of the Seattle PD building. He put the SUV in park and shut it off but didn’t get out. He stared blankly at the steering wheel while he jiggled the keys still in the ignition. He suddenly felt every one of his thirty-seven years. He had not been this drained by a case in months.

A chirp from his phone broke his daydream. He unhooked it from the center console and looked at the screen. There was only one message waiting, and as soon as James saw it, he cursed under his breath. The last thing he felt like doing was dialing the phone, but he knew he’d get hell for not replying. Wincing as he did so, James tapped on a number in his recent call list and brought the phone to his ear. Two rings later, a shrill voice blasted into his ear.

“I have been trying to reach you for three days,” growled Janice Otto, the BAU’s resident analyst.

James pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned his head against the car window. “I’ve been busy with the case,” he replied. “Why aren’t you resting?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the past week? I’m going stir-crazy here, Deacon.”

James flinched. He hated being called by his last name. And she knew that. “I’m sure, but you need to recover before you can be cleared to get back in the field,” James said.

“The doctor said I should be fine for light duty in the next few days. I’m healing faster than he thought I would.” She cleared her throat, and James heard her take a few gulps of something. “If you’re still out in Seattle by then, I could fly out and help wrap the case.”

James heard the hope in her voice and knew he needed to nip this in the bud. The last thing he needed was Janice eating up what little sleep time he could grab. “Actually, we got a temporary analyst from one of the universities around here. She’s been helping us out.”

“She, huh?” The suspicion in Janice’s voice grated against James’s nerves. “Hope you’re not replacing me.”

“She’s temporary, Janice. I needed someone to help us out. It would have taken us double the time without an analyst. We’re stretched thin enough as it is.”

Janice sighed and James could picture her annoyingly adorable pout. “I need to get back in the field. Lying around all day sucks,” she said, and then her tone changed as she purred, “It wouldn’t be so bad if you were here.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll be leaving Seattle soon. Then I’ll be back,” James promised.

At that moment, Dade stepped out of the station and waved at James.

“I’ve got to go. We’re meeting with victim’s families,” James said quickly as he unbuckled and grabbed his suit jacket from the passenger seat.

“Ok. I just really needed to hear your voice. Maybe you could call me later, when you’ve got some more time,” Janice pleaded.

“I’ll see what I can do. I haven’t had much downtime.” James put the call on speaker and placed the phone in his lap while he quickly shrugged on his jacket.

“You need sleep, James. Otherwise you’re a total dick. Even I don’t like you,” Janice laughed.

“Thanks?” James replied, taking the call off speaker.

“Just being honest.” Janice paused for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice sounded small, almost weakened. “I can’t sleep well without you. I’ve gotten so used to someone else there with me. It’s crazy.”

When there was another pause, James knew Janice was waiting for him to stop being her boss and step into his role as … what? Boyfriend? Lover? Neither of those titles were something he had agreed to.

Dade reappeared outside the station and held both hands out in confusion. James held up a finger. “I really need to go. I’ll try to call you later. Get some rest.” He ended the call before a more amorous farewell was needed.

As James exited the SUV, he realized what had started out as a no-strings-attached deal had somehow morphed into something more for Janice. At the beginning of all this, they had both agreed that it was purely physical, no expectations, nothing official. Janice had seemed fine with it six months ago, but now ... now it seemed like another conversation might be in order.

Dade held the door open as James entered the police station. “Everything all right?” Dade asked as he led James to the interview rooms.

“Yeah, just a DC matter.” James quickly changed the subject. “So, how many families are here?”

“All of them. Lana Rames didn’t have any family nearby that we could find, so we brought in a couple of her friends and coworkers.”

James nodded. He pushed through the last set of double doors and was faced with a hallway full of people who all looked like they’d been to hell and back. James steeled himself, and wove through the crowd, offering a small smile to anyone who looked up at him. Victim family interviews were one of the hardest parts of his job. James still dreaded it and had a feeling he always would.

_____

As he turned into the shopping center parking lot, John surveyed the parked cars. His cousin had said to look for a white van. Like the idiot that she was, she hadn’t given him a model to look for. He had counted five white vans in as many seconds. As he backed into a parking spot near the outskirts of the grocery store portion of the parking lot, a dilapidated white minivan cruised into the parking lot and pulled into a spot near the front of the grocery. John recognized the mane of red hair cloaking the driver.

John unbuckled and placed a hand against Jane’s face. She stirred slightly against the car door but didn’t wake completely. “Come on, sweetheart. Mina’s waiting.” John moved his hand to her scrawny shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.

Jane let out a groggy groan and pushed herself upright. She scrubbed at her puffy eyes and squinted out the windshield. “I don’t see her.”

“She’s right up front. Come on, let’s go meet her.” John opened his door and waited for Jane to open hers. When she didn’t move, he squatted back into view and gave her a small smile. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Janey. But I can’t keep leaving you in hotel rooms when I’m working.”

“I don’t mind it, Dad. I promise.”

John heard someone call out and turned to see Mina waving wildly at him from her car. He raised a hand in acknowledgment and fought the urge to get back in the car and drive away with his daughter. She’s in the way, the commanding voice in his head hissed. You won’t be able to finish if you have to worry about her.

“I’m not telling you again, Jane.” John slammed his door shut and strode to the trunk. He grabbed Jane’s backpack and slammed the trunk lid. Jane slid out of the car and kicked the door shut, glaring at John the entire time.

John stepped toward her and held out his hand. Jane spun on her heel and marched away from the car. “Walk down to that woman waving at us,” John said as he trailed after his fuming daughter.

Mina Klinton held out her arms to Jane as they approached. Jane tentatively accepted her embrace. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown!” Mina exclaimed as she held Jane at arm’s length.

“You haven’t seen her since she was in diapers,” John said as he handed over Jane’s backpack to his cousin.

“True.” Mina opened the sliding passenger door and placed the backpack on the floor. She motioned to a seat. “You ready, Jane?”

Her eyes glistening, Jane plastered herself against John’s chest. He felt his shirt dampen as Jane’s small being racked with sobs. “I don’t want to go!”

John knelt down and pulled Jane away from him. “I have a job to do, Jane. Mina will take care of you until I’m done.”

“I promise I’ll be good, Dad. I’ll go to sleep when you tell me. I’ll stay in the room, I won’t go outside again.” Jane’s pleas grew more frantic and high-pitched as she went on.

John clasped her face in his hands and forced her to look him in the eye. “I’m not discussing this. Go with Mina and behave.” He pulled her forehead to his lips and placed a lingering kiss there. He then stood and guided Jane into the van. As she buckled in, tears staining her cheeks, he gave her one last kiss on the cheek. “I love you, sweetheart,” he said as he slid the door shut.

“How long will you be?” Mina asked as John started back to his car.

“I’ll give you a call,” John called without turning back. He got into his car and just sat still for a moment. Without the baggage of worrying over Jane, he suddenly felt a million times clearer. He pulled the folded printout of directions from behind his sun visor and glanced over them. Satisfied with his new destination, he turned the key and waited for the old engine to roar to life. He slammed the car down into drive and left the parking lot, a new man with a new goal.

_____

“So what made you go with a Great Dane? Don’t they drool everywhere and eat couches?”

Ada shot Brenda an evil look from across the room. “My uncle had one when I was growing up, and I fell in love with the breed. They’re really the best dogs, and I’m not just saying that because I have one.”

Brenda eyed Tiny, who had invited himself onto the couch and then promptly took over half of it. He was currently deep in a twitchy dream, his back paws thrashing dangerously close to Brenda’s neat stacks of files. “He’s just so ... big.”

Ada chuckled. “Yeah. He’s a teddy bear, though. And a total wimp. He’s terrified of anything smaller than him.”

“What a man,” Brenda teased. She uncapped her highlighter and tagged a line of text on the page she was studying. “So, have you found much of anything?”

Ada shook her head then rolled her neck around.

The resulting pops made Brenda wince.

“I think it’s time for a break. We’ve been at this for,” Ada glanced at her phone and her eyes widened, “five hours. When did it get to be ten o’clock?”

Brenda shrugged.

Ada tossed her stack of FBI papers onto the floor. She unfolded her legs and slowly stood, trying to ignore her protesting joints. “I’m so glad it’s Friday night.”

“And what a happening Friday night it is,” Brenda sneered.

“I could grab some booze and crank up some loud music if that would make you feel better.”

Brenda rolled her eyes. “I haven’t had a ‘typical’ Friday night in longer than I want to admit. I’m either too tired, or on a case ... and too tired.”

“I don’t know how you bureau people do it.” Ada semi-hobbled toward the kitchen, turning on a few lights along the way. “Do you want anything?”

“A water would be great, thanks.”

Ada gave her a thumbs up as she disappeared from the room.

Brenda flipped to the next page of the manila folder on her lap and blinked a few times to clear her vision. At this point, she was running on two hours of sleep in the past thirty-six hours. Not the longest she’d gone, but certainly close to it.

Brenda slid off the couch and reached her fingertips up toward the ceiling. A few joints popped. She hinged forward and nearly cried out as she stretched out her tight back muscles.

“I might have a yoga DVD lying around here somewhere,” Ada teased as walked back into the room.

Brenda straightened and took the glass of water from Ada. She downed half the water in two gulps. “I’ll pass, thanks,” Brenda replied.

“So, in the past five hours, we’ve gotten exactly nowhere.” The defeat in Ada’s voice was palpable. She slid a hand into her tousled brown hair and rested her elbow against the arm of her chair. “I know there’s something here. I feel like there’s something, we’re just missing it.”

“We just need to keep digging,” Brenda said.

Ada laughed cynically. “I don’t know why anyone thought I’d be good at this.” She pulled at a loose thread on her sweatshirt. “James has to be regretting asking for my help.”

Brenda sat on the edge of the couch and took another sip of water. She pondered her words before she said. “See, you don’t really understand Deacon.” She paused as Ada shot her an incredulous look. “Meaning, you haven’t been around him long enough to read him,” Brenda elaborated.

“So, he doesn’t think I’m a deadweight to the team?”

“If he had thought that, he would have said that.”

Ada let out a sharp laugh. “True.”

Brenda shrugged. “He didn’t get to where he is by being everyone’s friend. He’s worked incredibly hard. He has and will never jeopardize the integrity of any operation he’s a part of.”

“I get that.” Ada twirled her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and wrapped a hair tie around it. “But he’s an odd one, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah,” Brenda grinned. “I was terrified of him when I first started. I don’t think I talked to him for the first couple of months. And honestly, Dade is the only team member Deacon actually talks to.”

“Are they related?”

Brenda laughed. “They do look alike, don’t they?” She shook her head and drained the rest of her water. “No, they’ve just always clicked, despite their personality differences. Their backgrounds are similar, too.” Brenda tucked her feet up underneath her. “Dade has always been the life of the team. He comes from pretty big family, so he’s very at home with the whole group dynamic.”

“He seems like one of the good ones,” Ada mused.

“He is,” Brenda replied with a tender smile. “He might seem like a lady-killer, but he’s got a heart of gold.”

“You said his and James’s pasts are similar?”

“Yeah, they both went through some rough patches. Dade’s dad was a cop who died during a routine traffic stop. So Dade was the only man in the house from the age of ten. His mother was a teacher, so he and his sisters took care of each other a lot.”

“What about James? What’s his family like?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Brenda said. “Dade’s the only one who really knows the whole story. All I’ve picked up over the years is that it’s just Deacon. His mother died not too long after he started with the bureau. I’m not sure what happened to his father. And his sister vanished a few years ago.”

“Vanished?”

Brenda glanced down at her hands. “About a year after I joined the BAU, Deacon was in and out of the office a lot over the course of a few months. Everyone just assumed he was sick or something.” Brenda grew visibly uncomfortable talking about her boss’s private life. “Apparently, Deacon’s sister Julia had run off with a guy years earlier, before Deacon was in the Academy. He hadn’t heard from her since. Then one night, she shows up on his doorstep about eight months pregnant with no one else to turn to. So, he let her stay with him until the baby was born.”

“Are they still with him?”

A sad smile touched Brenda’s lips. “After the baby was born, we got called to a case in Maine. Julia’s ex found out where she and the baby were living. When Deacon got back, all he had was a note from Julia saying that she and the baby’s father were getting back together and that everything was going to be fine.”

Ada shook her head and sighed. “They were just gone?”

Brenda nodded. “Deacon’s looked for them ever since, but it’s like they vanished into thin air.”

The two women sat in silence for a few moments. A stray thought came to Ada’s mind, and she spoke it before she could stop herself. “Was the baby’s name Olivia?”

Brenda frowned at her, wary of her sudden curiosity. “I think so. Why?”

“Remember the night Lana Rames was found? Her friend mentioned that she had a daughter named Olivia. When James heard that, his face just dropped.”

“I didn’t notice,” Brenda replied quickly. She glanced at the stacks of files, and Ada knew that story time was over.

“Hand me the file on the first victim,” Ada asked as she lowered herself onto the rug.

CHAPTER 10

Melinda Thomas looked at the ceiling of the interview room for the millionth time. She hoped that the tilt of her head would dam up the tears burning behind her bloodshot eyes. She couldn’t believe she still had any tears to cry. The past week had required more tears than she’d cried her entire life.

She jumped as she felt something touch against her hand. Her head tilted forward automatically and two streams of tears leaked down her cheeks. The FBI agent—John? Maybe Jason?—had nudged the box of tissues toward her. She yanked a couple of the cheap, brittle tissues out of the box and dabbed them under her eyes.

“We can take a break if you need to,” the agent murmured.

Melinda shook her head and gave him a quivering smile. “I’d like to just get this over with,” she paused to take a steadying breath. “I have funeral arrangements to finalize.”

The agent nodded, his lips pressed into a thin, grim line. “I only have a few more questions.” He pulled a photo from his folder and slid it toward Melinda. “Do you recognize anything missing from your daughter’s purse in this photo?”

Melinda glossed over the photo, trying not to linger on the smiling sunflower keychain with her daughter’s house key or the bright pink lip gloss that was Tory’s signature color. Melinda wanted to gather everything in the picture and hold tight to these connections to Tory. This desire was followed by a strong urge to just throw every last thing away.

“It looks like everything is there,” Melinda whispered. “The police already had me look through her things.”

“I just wanted to see if maybe something popped out at you, now that it’s been a few days.”

The door of the interview room opened and the other agent, Wylan, walked in with two fresh cups of coffee. Melinda mustered a smile for him. His demeanor was softer than the agent sitting across from her, and he seemed years younger, even though they were probably about the same age. Melinda thought that Tory would have liked Agent Wylan. She always seemed to go out with guys like him.

“Ma’am?”

Melinda blinked and realized she was just blankly staring up at Agent Wylan. Embarrassed beyond words, she mumbled something that even she couldn’t make out and graciously took the cup of coffee from him.

“Everything OK?” Agent Wylan asked, just the right amount of chipper in his tone.

“I was just thinking that my Tory would have liked you.” She felt her cheeks heat.

The agent smiled. “I’m sure she was a very nice girl.”

The other agent leaned forward. “Tory dated guys like Agent Wylan?”

Melinda nodded. “She went for the tall, dark, and handsome type. Every one of them had brown hair and brown eyes.”

The two agents exchanged a quick glance that seemed to communicate volumes in a matter of seconds. The agent across from her stood and gathered up his folder. Melinda also stood as Agent Wylan helped pull out her chair for her.

“That should do it. Thank you, Mrs. Thomas. I appreciate you coming back in.” The agent extended a hand to her.

She took it and feebly shook. “Thank you for all you’re doing, Agent ...”

“Deacon. Or James, whichever you prefer.”

“I’m sorry, I’m usually so much better with names.”

Agent Deacon released her hand and opened the door for her. “No offense, I promise,” he said kindly as Melinda walked past him.

Agent Wylan followed her down the short hallway to the double doors. She glanced through the glass at all the other families waiting. “If you think of something, anything, don’t hesitate to call us,” he told her as he held open one of the doors.

Melinda nodded and gave him a small smile. “I’m very grateful for all you and the FBI are doing to help bring us some closure.”

The agent smiled warmly at her. “Just doing our jobs.” He held her gaze for a moment. “Have a good day, Mrs. Thomas.”

Melinda took the hint and continued on her way, trying to shake her sudden thought about how much Tory would have gone on about the agent’s chocolate brown eyes.

_____

Dade found James in the small conference room Seattle PD had set aside for the team. He and another agent were pouring over notes from two of the family interviews.

“Got something?” Dade asked.

James scratched the top of his head. “I’m debating if it’s worth going back and asking the other two families we’ve talked to today about their daughters’ ex-boyfriends.”

“See if there’s a pattern in physical appearance?”

“It would at least give us a physical type to pursue. We could scan local security footage of the last places all the victims were seen.” James knocked back the last of his coffee. “It’s the best lead we’ve had in the past couple of days, unless Ada and Brenda pull something out of thin air.”

Dade nodded and pulled out one of the cushy office chairs around the boardroom table. He sank down and winced at how sore he was. His body was beginning to protest the crazy hours of this case, more so than usual. Looking at James, though, Dade knew that the lead agent was feeling it more than anyone else on the team.

“I can take the next batch of interviews,” Dade said to James, “Why don’t you go back to the hotel?”

“I’m good,” James said, a little too quickly.

“James. With all due respect, you look like hell.”

The two other agents in the room froze and looked at Dade with wide eyes. No one talked to the lead agent like that.

James placed the folders in his hands down on the table and slid them toward Dade. “This is all starting to blur together.” He picked up his empty paper cup and glanced at the coffeemaker across the room. After a second thought, he stood and tossed the cup into a nearby wastebasket. “Call me if something comes up,” he told Dade.

Dade swept his arms out wide. “Of course. Trust me. I’ll handle things.”

The weariness in James’s face seemed to triple suddenly. He tossed Dade a sloppy two-fingered salute and left the room. Dade watched him trudge down the hallway to a back exit, and wondered if he should have offered to have someone drive James to the hotel.

_____

James welcomed the dark silence of his hotel room. The blackout curtains had remained shut the majority of his stay. The room felt like a chilly cave, and that was exactly how James liked it.

From across the room, James’s computer chimed. His heart skipped when he realized it was his personal computer. He raced to it and clicked the trackpad furiously to snap the machine out of its slumber.

The icon for his email program indicated one unopened message. James couldn’t click fast enough. When the email finally opened, he quickly scanned it.

James,

Looked into Utah. Couldn’t find anything. Have another possible in Nevada. Will keep you posted.

Joe

James’s balled fist slammed into the desk. His eyes stung with the fierce bite of tears. He shook his head and stood, his hands scraping through his hair as he struggled to catch his breath.

He was so sure Utah was it. He’d heard Julia talk about wanting to have a house there. Even that dick she was with seemed to like the idea of living near the Rockies. The note had even been postmarked from there.

Fury crawled up James’s throat, and he felt every muscle in his body turn to steel. He knew the quivering would start soon, and then he’d be drinking the mini fridge dry. He had to calm down.

James focused on slowing his breaths. This wasn’t the end; it couldn’t be. If it was the last thing he did, James would find them. Alive.

CHAPTER 11

“If I look at one more word, I’m going to lose it,” Ada moaned as she tossed another file aside.

Brenda glanced at the time on her phone and scowled. Outside, the night sky was morphing into the dull gray of pre-dawn. “I’m calling it for now,” Brenda grunted as she stiffly stood from the couch.

“Do you need a ride?” Ada asked as they walked toward the front door.

“I’ll have someone come get me.” Brenda tapped her wrist. “I’m not the one who has class in two hours.”

Ada caught sight of the time in the foyer clock and cursed under her breath. She massaged her scalp. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Brenda tapped away at her phone. “Hopefully we’ll be out of here in the next few days.”

Ada nodded as she stared off into space.

Brenda slipped her phone into her pocket and retrieved her jacket from the coatrack. “My ride should be here in a few minutes. I’ll wait outside.” When Ada didn’t answer, Brenda snapped her fingers and chuckled. “Go to bed before you fall over.”

Blushing, Ada unlocked the door and gave Brenda an awkward wave. “I’ll see you, I guess.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled,” Brenda teased as she stepped outside.

Ada gave her one last wave as she shut the door. Tiny moseyed into the foyer and went down into a long stretch. “At least one of us is rested,” Ada sighed as she wandered to her waiting bed.

_____

BAM. BAM. BAM.

James opened one eye and held out hope that it was the maid knocking. Three more knocks ripped that hope away. “Coming,” he called in an even voice as he rose from the warmth of his hotel bed.

He peered through the peephole to see Brenda shuffling uncomfortably in front of his door. In one fluid motion, James unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Any leads?”

Brenda half shrugged while shaking her head. “We hit a wall.”

“Great,” James sighed.

Awkward silence brewed between them until Brenda cleared her throat. “I’m going to catch a few winks. Just wanted to let you know I’m back.”

“Thanks. Now go get some rest.” James gave Brenda a small smile and shut his door.

Frustration welled up as James walked back to bed and sat back against the headboard. He propped his knees up and rested his forearms across them. Times like this made him wish Janice wasn’t in DC. He needed a “meeting” with her.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand. He picked it up. “Agent Deacon.”

“You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

Startled by Ada’s voice, James sat forward, nearly dropping the phone. “No, I was up. Brenda just stopped by to give me an update.”

“Oh, good,” Ada sighed. A few moments went by before she said, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to be unavailable for the next few hours.”

A snide remark rose to the tip of James’s tongue. He swallowed it back down. “I appreciate you letting me know,” he mumbled instead.

He hated the surprise he heard in Ada’s voice as she said, “No problem.” Was he really that much of a jerk?

“I’ll be in touch if we need you at another crime scene.”

“I’m not sure I was that much of an asset at the last one.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” James snipped back.

“What?” Ada asked, incredulous.

Dammit, get off the phone. “You did just fine.” He heard Ada prepare to reply and quickly added, “Someone’s at the door. I’ll be in touch.” He ended the call and tossed the phone across the bed.

_____

Ada stared open-mouthed at her phone for a few seconds then shook her head and tossed the phone into her bag. She jogged up the last few steps of the Fine Arts building and nodded to a passing teacher. She had decided to forgo sleep and head into work a few minutes early to mentally prepare for the day.

Ada entered her classroom and made a beeline for her desk. Laptop in hand, she lowered wearily into her desk chair and propped her feet up on her desk. Her computer balanced on her lap, she checked her email for any last minute student emergencies. There always seemed to be a few panic attacks the night before final readings.

“Professor Greene?”

Ada glanced at the door to see a student leaning into the classroom. “Kate,” Ada greeted as she quickly slid her feet off the desk. “Come on in.” Ada shut the laptop and placed it on her desk.

Kate smiled and slipped into the room. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she apologized as she neared Ada. “I was just wondering if maybe I could read my final draft to you? I don’t read today, so I just wanted to know if you have any edits before I have to present it.” She paused, and a blush crept up her cheeks. “And I’m totally rambling.”

Ada smiled and motioned for her to go ahead. “I’m all ears.”

“Awesome,” Kate gushed, setting her bag down and pulling out a notebook. She flipped open to the appropriate page and took a deep breath. “‘She knew this probably wouldn’t end well, but she just had to entertain the fantasy of what he would be like,’” she read.

Ada listened as Kate proceeded to share the climactic chapter of her romance thriller. Ada vaguely remembered reading the plot submission for this piece. It centered around a pastor’s daughter who ran away from her confined small town and ventured to the next town over, where she met and fell for a serial killer on the run.

“‘Becca watched as Tom walked across the street from his building and made his way up to her building’s front door. She waited for the buzzer to sound, wondering if he had ever noticed her watching him leave his building, silently wishing that he would head to her door instead of walk down the street.’” Kate paused to gauge Ada’s response. “What do you think so far, Professor?”

“Your wording makes the story feel more romance and less thriller. Isn’t Becca about to become Tom’s victim?”

Kate nodded. “I mean, he doesn’t just storm in there and murder her. They get together first,” Kate explained sheepishly.

Ada held up a finger. “Never get embarrassed talking about your work. Own what you’re writing.”

Kate bowed her head and fiddled with the notebook. “I’m just going to rewrite. You’re right, this is crap—”

“I never said it was crap. I just said you needed to work on wording,” Ada soothed. “Talk through the premise. That should help you get a clear grasp of how this scene needs to play out.”

“Ok,” Kate took a deep breath and closed her eyes in concentration. “Becca falls for the serial killer across the street after running away from her overbearing parents.”

Ada’s subconscious snapped to attention. Kate’s words faded off as a mental catalog of case files flew furiously behind her eyes. The first victim had been killed at home. She was the only one who had not died in public. There hadn’t been any sign of a break-in, and no indication of a struggle. Neighbors that had been questioned said she had many people coming and going from the house, so it wasn’t unusual to see strangers around the house.

Ada leapt to her feet and crammed her belongings into her bag. She noticed Kate’s gaping mouth and wide-eyed stare and realized the student had been speaking to her.

“Right, um,” Ada scrambled, “Becca should be surprised by Tom. He should show up at her door and beg her to let him in. And when she thinks that something romantic is about to happen, he pulls a knife on her instead.”

Kate nodded, dazed, and clutched her notebook to her chest.

“Can’t wait to see what you do!” Ada breathed as she brushed past Kate toward the door.

_____

Ada’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she pinned her phone between her ear and shoulder. “Come on, come on,” she hissed as her computer struggled to match her frantic pace.

Brenda’s voicemail message blasted into her ear for the fourth time. Frustrated, Ada banged her palm against the top of her desk as she waited for the beep. “Brenda, call me as soon as you get this. I think there’s a connection with the first victim and the killer that we need to look into. Just … call me.”

Ada moved her head and the phone slid from under her chin and dropped into her hand. She placed it on the desk and slumped in her chair. Her office was pitch-black, save for the painful glow of her laptop screen. A faint ticking sound emerged from the silence, and Ada realized she was clicking her teeth together, a nervous tic she thought she had ditched in high school.

In the hallway, someone joked about a midterm exam question, and Ada’s eyes flew wide. She glanced at the time and realized in five minutes students would be showing up in her classroom. She stared down at her phone, ready to pounce on it at the first ring.

A loud knock on the office door’s glass broke Ada’s concentration on her phone. The office door opened and Tiffany poked her head in.

“Ada?” she called into the dark office.

“I’m just grabbing something real quick,” she said to Tiffany. A glance at the time brought a pit to Ada’s stomach. Class started in one minute.

“Well, you have students that are asking for you,” Tiffany told her as she pushed the door open wider. “A big group of them stopped me while I was heading into my classroom.”

Light poured in from the hallway and momentarily blinded Ada. She cursed under her breath and stood, checking that her phone was on silent mode before sliding it into her pocket. She rushed to the door and gave Tiffany a tight smile. “Guess I’ll go give them this exam they seem to be wanting.”

CHAPTER 12

Dade glanced at Brenda as they made their way into the station. She had been hitting redial the entire trip from the hotel to the station. “Still not answering?” he asked, holding the door open.

Brenda strode into the station and jammed her phone into her pocket. “Why the hell would she call, leave a message like that, and then not pick up?” she fumed.

Dade glanced at his watch and then twisted his arm to show Brenda. “I would assume class is in session.”

“Still. Don’t leave a message demanding someone call you and then become unreachable.”

They waved their badges at the officer sitting at the front desk, who motioned them deeper into the station. With no new victims in the past couple of days, the station was no longer at a fevered frenzy. Officers milled around the station with files, random deviants, and giant cups of coffee.

When they reached the conference room, Dade entered first and flipped on the light. The fluorescent bulbs clicked on a few seconds later, bathing the room in a sterile white glaze. Brenda found herself trudging to the coffeemaker.

“Did the two of you have any luck yesterday?” Dade asked as he leaned against the meeting table and studied the case board for the millionth time.

“Nope. It beat being here, though,” Brenda chuckled.

Dade raised his brows and crossed his arms across his chest. “Uh, yeah.”

Brenda joined him in front of the case board. “When’s everyone else getting here? Or do we have morning shift?”

“Deacon said he’d be here by now. The rest of the crew should be here in the next half hour. I told them to grab a few extra minutes of sleep.”

Brenda turned to give him a sickly sweet smile. “How nice of you.”

“I want them rested and ready to go if something comes up. I’m done trudging through the Seattle rain for now.”

Brenda laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Spoken like a true leader.”

Dade rolled his eyes and shoved her hand away. “Get me some coffee, agent.”

Brenda straightened and mock-saluted him on her way back to the coffee pot. She poured two cups and added their usual cream and sugar ratios. “So, is Deacon acting a little off lately?”

“Lately?”

“Good point,” Brenda chuckled. She carefully handed Dade his paper cup and they touched glasses before each downing a large gulp. “Really, though. Something’s up with him. He seems more on edge, agitated,” Brenda said between sips.

Dade swirled his coffee around before knocking back the entire cup. “Probably has something to do with Tuesday,” he murmured as he glanced cautiously at the door.

Brenda frowned at him.

“Tuesday is Olivia’s birthday.” Dade kept his voice at a murmur, as if he expected James to suddenly appear.

“Oh,” Brenda replied as she looked down into her empty coffee cup.

Neither one of them spoke for a few moments. Dade picked at the rim of his cup with his thumbnail for a few seconds before Brenda sighed loudly and yanked it from his hand. She stomped over to the trash and tossed both cups in.

“I just don’t understand why he hasn’t been able to find them,” Brenda said quietly as she walked back to Dade.

Dade’s eyes widened as a brief moment of panic washed across his face. “I told you about that in confidence,” he hissed.

Brenda swept the room with a wide-eyed scan. “I’m pretty sure we’re still the only ones here,” Brenda soothed.

Dade’s chocolate eyes twinkled despite the glowering glare he fixed on his colleague.

Brenda snorted a short chuckle then sobered. “I’m serious, though. Deacon’s FBI. How can he not find his own sister?”

“Well,” Dade started, glancing at the door yet again, “if you know the right people and places to go, you can hide from anyone.” Someone laughed outside the conference room as they walked by. “For whatever reason,” Dade said a little more quietly, “Julia wants nothing to do with Deacon. And as much as he wants to believe he’ll find them, he’s eventually going to have to recognize that.”

Brenda shook her head. “It’s just so sad.”

“It’s part of what’s making Deacon act the way he is,” he said, glancing at Brenda, “That’s why I try to overlook most of his moodiness.”

The click of multiple shoes drew toward the conference room. Brenda crossed back to the coffeemaker and quickly added more coffee grounds. Dade stood just as the door opened and James strode in, followed by three other silent agents.

Dade dug his hands into his pockets and nodded at their leader. “Morning,” he greeted.

James nodded back and dumped his bag into the chair at the head of the long table. “Nothing this morning?”

“No, it’s been quiet.”

James almost looked disappointed as he nodded and walked over to Brenda, who handed him a cup. He poured his coffee and glanced at Brenda. “Have you heard from Ada?”

Brenda shook her head. “I was going to touch base with her later today.”

James emptied three sugar packets into his cup and carefully stirred. Brenda watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying not to think about her conversation with Dade.

“All right, everyone. Let’s look back through the victims’ files and try to find any physical similarities between their boyfriends, fiancés, husbands, whatever.” James barked as he made his way over to the case board. The other agents in the room divvied out case files and spread out around the table.

Brenda and Dade exchanged looks from across the room. Dade nodded toward the door and Brenda gave him a small smile. She moved quietly toward the door and slipped out into the hallway.

_____

Ada burst into her office while she waited breathlessly for Brenda’s voice to come through the phone pushed against her ear. The moment class had ended, Ada’s phone had informed her of six missed calls from the agent.

“Oh good, you’re not dead.”

Ada straightened and hung up her phone as Brenda walked into the room. She was inwardly proud that she was no longer jumping at the agent’s unannounced arrivals. “I’m so sorry. I had to give a midterm. I should have mentioned it. I was hoping you would call me back before I had to get to class—”

Brenda held up a hand. “Ada, breathe. It’s fine.” She lowered down into a chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I’m here now. Fill me in.”

Ada pressed her palms together and sat against the edge of her desk. “The first victim was the only one killed at home, in private. All the others have been killed in public.”

“We assumed that the first victim knew the killer. That would explain why there were no signs of a break-in or struggle.”

“That’s what I figured, too,” Ada agreed. “What more do you know about the first victim? The file you gave me didn’t have much more than her name and the crime scene report.”

Brenda shrugged. “Not much. She was new to the area, hadn’t really reached out to the neighbors. Not that I blame her, she lived in a pretty rough part of town.”

“So, you talked to the neighbors?” Ada asked, her mind’s wheels whirring to life.

“The ones we could find, yes. Once we rolled in, about half of those houses were suddenly vacant. That neighborhood doesn’t seem like they really enjoy having uniforms around.”

Ada started pacing.

Brenda watched her for a moment then took Ada’s place against the desk. “So, what was with the urgent calls? You’ve read these case files.”

“Would it be possible to go to the first crime scene?” Ada blurted.

Brenda blinked, surprised. “You want to go to a crime scene?”

Ada nodded, still pacing. “There’s something there. Something that set this whole thing off.”

Not in the mood to question her, Brenda pulled out her phone and tapped away. “I’ll get someone to pick us up.”

“Good, good. This is good,” Ada mumbled as her pacing slowed.

_____

Brenda and Ada entered the faculty parking lot just as a black SUV rolled to a stop at the end of the sidewalk. Dade stepped out of the car and opened the rear passenger door for Ada.

“Ready for a little field trip?” Dade asked the two women as they got into the car.

Ada settled into her seat and buckled in. She looked toward the front of the car and wasn’t surprised to see James in the driver seat. He silently met her gaze in the rearview mirror for a moment then looked ahead as Dade got in and shut the door.

“Why the sudden interest in Yesler Terrace?” James asked as he pulled out of the faculty parking lot.

Ada turned and looked out at the city as they drove through it. “I was listening to a student’s final reading, and it made me think more about the first crime scene and how we might have missed something there.”

Brenda reached across the seat and tapped her hand. Ada looked at her and Brenda widened her eyes in disbelief. “You didn’t tell me this was because of some student paper,” Brenda hissed at her, almost too low for Ada to hear.

Confused, Ada shrugged and opened her mouth to reply, but Dade cut her off. “Must have been one hell of a final project to lead you to a break in the case.”

“Actually, it was pretty terrible. But the subject matter got me thinking,” Ada replied.

Dade chuckled and glanced back at Ada. “Speaking of writing, I read a couple of your books. You’ve got some great stuff there.”

Ada flushed slightly. “You all really need to stop pretending to be fans,” she snorted. “The piles of unsold books lying around town are the ones being honest.”

James cleared his throat as he turned down one of the shadier streets of Seattle. “We need to keep this trip quick. I have a meeting with the police chief in two hours.”

All casual conversation ceased.

A few minutes later, they came to a stop in front of a gray house wedged in the middle of a long row of gray houses. Ada stepped out of the car and looked up and down the street. She could picture this neighborhood years prior and imagined a much cheerier place. What were once warm and inviting homes now looked like weathered and damaged results of misuse and constantly changing owners. The whole street felt like a poster child for the broken window theory.

James pushed through the front gate of the first victim’s house and strode up the concrete steps to the shambled porch, the rest of the group following him in silence. Taking the car key, he sliced through the crime scene seal on the front door in one clean swipe. He turned the faded brass doorknob and shoved the door open with a firm shoulder thrust.

“Welcome to the Cheryl Adams murder scene,” James said as he stepped into the foyer of the house. He flipped a light switch and grimaced when nothing happened. “Guess the utilities are off already.”

Ada couldn’t shake the feeling that she was intruding, not just on someone’s home but on their last moments on earth. She remained just inside the front door and surveyed the rooms around her. It looked like a small tornado of chaos had swept through the house. Dishes, clothes, and various odds and ends covered almost every surface. “Was the house like this three weeks ago?” she asked.

James huffed a chuckle. “Homey, isn’t it?” He stepped over a crunched beer can and into the living room. “Cleanliness isn’t usually something a junkie worries about.”

Ada frowned. “She was a junkie?”

James pointed at the coffee table in front of an ancient television. “Drug paraphernalia was found there, and there were some used needles in her bedroom.”

“From what the neighbors we were able to track down for interviews said, Cheryl was quite a party girl,” Brenda said. “There were multiple noise complaints filed. One party ended with a few attendees spending the night in jail.” Brenda pulled out a flashlight and shined it down a dark hallway. “I’ll show you her room.”

Brenda cautiously made her way down the cluttered hallway, and Ada followed. “She was found in bed. Cause of death was strangulation. She’d been dead just over thirty-six hours by the time a friend found her,” Brenda said as she came up to a bedroom at the end of the hall. She waved Ada in ahead of her.

The room was just as cramped and cluttered as the rest of the house, but there was something noticeably different. Underneath the chaos was evidence of an innocence buried deep inside Cheryl. There were boy band posters on the wall, smiley face stickers stuck to random things, and everything on the bed was covered in a bright floral pattern.

“This doesn’t feel like the room of a drug addict prostitute,” Ada said as she walked to the bedroom’s lone window. She glanced outside at the gray haze and sleepy street.

“I said the same thing,” Brenda agreed.

Ada crouched in front of a short bookshelf underneath the window. She was surprised to see textbooks crammed between well-worn magazines and CD cases. She pulled one textbook from the shelf and her eyes widened when she saw the title. “She was a veterinary student?”

Brenda nodded. “At a local community college. Her teachers had nothing but praise for her.”

James appeared in the doorway. “Any epiphanies?” he asked Ada.

Ada carefully placed the textbook back on the shelf and stepped to the foot of the bed. “She was found here?” She tried to picture a lifeless body stretched out on the bright pinks and purples of the comforter.

James nodded and leaned against the doorframe. He raised his brows at Brenda in exasperation. Brenda shrugged a shoulder at him.

“I thought you wanted my help, James,” Ada snapped. She half-turned toward them with a dark scowl shadowing her face.

Brenda winced and looked away from her to James. He stood holding Ada’s gaze with equal acidity.

“Help, yes,” James answered evenly, “but I didn’t anticipate having to go on field trips every time you had a hunch.”

Brenda wanted nothing more than to be out of the increasingly cramped bedroom. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” she breathed as she moved toward the door.

James stepped further into the room to allow Brenda clearance to leave. Ada watched her leave and tried not to feel abandoned. Hostile silence permeated the room until Ada could no longer stand it.

“I really don’t get you,” she hissed at the stony agent. “It’s not like I begged to be a part of this. You asked for my help, for my insight. And all I’ve gotten in return is attitude and veiled insults.” She tried to read James’s excellent poker face. “If you don’t want my help, I’ll happily oblige.”

James chuckled and laced his fingers together, pointing his index fingers toward Ada. “I only need your help until this case is solved. After that, we get to part ways and never speak again,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “We don’t need to get along. The only reason I didn’t try to find someone else is because I respect Patrick and your uncle.”

Tears stung the back of Ada’s eyes. She turned away from James and pretended to gaze out the window, furiously blinking the traitorous moisture from her eyes. As her eyes cleared, the house directly across from Cheryl’s window came into focus. It was one of the more dilapidated homes on the street. Ada noted a child’s bike in the front yard, something no other house on the street had. “Who lives there?”

James muttered something under his breath and walked up behind her to look out the window. Ada couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at his proximity. “No one. It was one of the first houses we canvassed. The owner is in a nursing home,” James said, glancing down at Ada. “Somehow I don’t think she’s our suspect.”

Ada rolled her eyes and moved away from the window and James. “What’s with the bike, then? It seems a little out of place in this neighborhood.”

James shrugged, increased annoyance creeping into his features. “Maybe some kids were playing around in the yard and left it. There’s a park right up the road. Some kid could have wandered down here and left it.”

Ada shook her head. Something was off. “I’m going over there.”

“Seriously?” James called after her as she strolled from the room.

CHAPTER 13

Ada squatted down in front of the small pink bicycle. The streamers fluttered in the brisk breeze while the back wheel turned slowly. There was a small piece of cardboard stuck to the back of the bike as a makeshift license plate. “Jane” was scrawled on it in child’s handwriting.

Footsteps crunched up the sidewalk behind Ada, but she ignored them. James could throw a fit all he wanted; she was going to sniff around this place. Something just didn’t fit.

The house itself looked like a slight breeze would send it toppling to the ground. Not exactly an ideal location to raise a child. The lawn, where it was still alive, was overgrown, and what used to be a neatly planted flowerbed was now just brown weeds.

Ada tilted her head back and studied the upper level of the home. The windows were layered with dirt and some were broken. Behind the gray-brown sheen of one window hung pink lace curtains. Like the bike, they not only seemed entirely out of place, they hinted at a child’s presence.

“I hope you have another way back to campus, because I’m leaving here in twenty minutes,” James barked as he crossed the street and walked into the yard.

Ada turned to see that Brenda was the one who had followed her. She was standing over the bike, frowning slightly. James stopped beside Brenda and crossed his arms across his chest. “Are you done here?” He waved a hand at the bike.

“Hardly,” Ada replied in a sickly sweet tone. If he was going to be a jerk, she could dish it right back.

Brenda intervened. “There really isn’t anything here, Ada. This was one of the first places we dug into.”

“Well, finally. Someone’s here to figure this mess out,” called a diminutive elderly woman making her way down the sidewalk.

James turned on his heel and gave the woman a tight, polite smile. “We’re wondering who lives here. You wouldn’t happen to know, would you, ma’am?”

The woman paused her journey down the sidewalk and leaned against the house’s mailbox. “Who’s asking?” she questioned with narrowed eyes. She glanced at Brenda and Ada.

James pulled out his badge and held it out to the woman. “Agent Deacon. I’m with the FBI,” James said as he placed the badge back in his pocket. He motioned to Brenda and Ada. “These are my colleagues.”

“FBI?” the woman huffed. “That’s a little much for a domestic dispute.”

Ada frowned and came up beside James. “Domestic dispute?” When the woman pulled away from her a little, Ada flashed her a smile and held out her hand. “Ada Greene.”

The woman briefly shook Ada’s hand. “You don’t look like FBI, sweetheart.”

Good, Ada mused. “I’m here as an analyst.”

The woman nodded and pointed her chin at Brenda. “She’s definitely FBI.”

Brenda grinned and gave the woman a mock salute.

“My friend Betty used to live here. We were some of the first people to live on this street. Moved in right after they built these houses in the fifties.” A wistful look washed over the woman’s features. “This street used to be just wonderful. Children everywhere. You knew everyone by their first name. How it should be, you know?”

James cleared his throat, breaking the old woman’s reverie. “You said there was some kind of domestic dispute here?”

The woman nodded, disgust flooding her weather face. “It was Betty’s good-for-nothing kids making a scene.”

“Were the police called?” James asked.

“No one bothered. I guess we all figured someone else would. Or they’d just kill themselves and save us all the trouble.”

“So, her children were living here?” Ada asked.

The old woman shook her head. “That was part of the issue. The kids couldn’t agree on what to do with the place. I guess Betty’s son decided he would just move in without telling his sisters. Boy, did that get them in a tizzy.”

“Did Betty’s son have a daughter?” Ada pressed.

James glanced sideways at her.

The old woman shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. We didn’t even know anyone was living here until the two sisters came over that night and raised hell at the front door. Betty’s son came out. What a mess. Looked like he was homeless.”

Brenda joined the group with narrowed eyes. “Why didn’t anyone mention this when we were canvassing here?”

The old woman laughed. “No one talks to anyone around here, especially the police. I’m amazed anyone opened the door for you.”

“What happened after the fight between Betty’s children?” James broke in, attempting to get the conversation back on track.

“I thought I heard something the next morning around two, so I got up and looked outside to make sure I didn’t need to grab my gun.” The woman blanched for a second and touched her fingers to James’s forearm. “I have a permit, I promise.”

James smiled and nodded.

“Well, I thought I saw a car in Betty’s driveway, and it looked like her son was packing it up. He took off in a hurry, and that was that. Nothing’s moved in that house since.”

“Was this before or after the Adams murder?” Brenda asked.

The old woman thought for a moment. “This was the day before you all got here.”

James straightened. “Was Betty’s son ever at Cheryl Adams’ house?”

“I told you, no one even knew he was here. If he ever left this house, it must have been at night.” The old woman frowned and turned to Ada. “You think he had a child in there?”

Ada motioned to the bike in the yard. “That belonged to someone.”

“Oh, I hope he didn’t have a child. What an awful way to live.” The old woman glanced at the house and shuddered.

James reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card. “If you think of anything else,” he handed the card to the woman, “please let me know.”

The old woman took the card and clutched it in her hand. “I will, Agent.” She cast one last mournful look at the house then pushed away from the mailbox. “Just so sad, so sad,” she muttered over and over as she continued her shuffle down the sidewalk.

“I knew it,” Ada whispered excitedly. She turned back to the house, hands on her hips.

“She was right about one thing,” James mused from behind her. “You don’t look like you work for the FBI.”

Ada bit her tongue and refused to take his bait. “What’s wrong with that? After all, I’m only here until this case is done.” She glanced over her shoulder at James. “Isn’t that right, Agent Deacon?”

James gave her a fake smile and nodded. “I’ll send someone to talk to the homeowner again. See if we can get her son’s name and figure out where he is now.” He turned and made his way back across the street to the waiting SUV.

“I’m sorry, Ada,” Brenda whispered as she placed a hand on Ada’s shoulder. “He’s acting more evil than usual.”

Ada took one last survey of the house then turned and grinned at Brenda. “I have a feeling he’s all bark and no bite.”

Brenda chuckled as she followed Ada toward the car.

_____

John hated this hotel. It reminded him of every “road trip” his mother had dragged him and his sisters on to visit whatever boyfriend she was shacking up with at the time. She’d always get two rooms, one for the kids and one for her and the guy. She had at least had the courtesy not to get adjacent rooms.

He’d come to this hotel out of necessity. His first three choices had been fully booked. This one happened to be closest to the highway, which he supposed was a positive. Once he got his next target, he would be moving on again, so he only had to endure the accommodations for hopefully no more than a day. However, he had yet to hear from base. It probably meant nothing, but he couldn’t help wondering if maybe he’d deviated from the plan at some point.

John stepped out of the dated bathroom, scrubbing a towel over his damp shaggy locks. He glanced momentarily in the mirror and cringed at what he saw. The past couple days of inactivity had resulted in a patchy beard and sallow skin. His dark brown hair lay like clumps of seaweed slapped to the top of his head. A far cry from the John of a year ago.

One year ago, he landed a big account at work. One year ago, he had a house with a wife who, he had thought, adored him and a daughter who couldn’t wait for him to come home every day. One year ago, he came home early to celebrate his success at work and found his wife with the neighbor from two doors down. Ten months ago, he became a single parent when his wife decided getting blackout drunk was more important to her than their daughter’s well-being and she just couldn’t “deal” with being a mom anymore. Nine months ago, he lost his job. Eight months ago, he and his daughter were living out of the family van. Six months ago, he finally found work that afforded a hotel room for Jane and him. One month ago, a total stranger in a local coffee shop reached out to him and forever changed his life.

He dug into his small bag of toiletries and unearthed a comb. Carefully, he plowed through his hair until it obediently lay slicked back against his scalp. Next, he pulled out a razor and can of shaving cream. After lathering up the lower half of his face, he deftly swept away his beard, inwardly reminding himself to change the dulling razor blade.

Satisfied with his renewed appearance, John padded across the room’s ancient shag carpet to the sagging double bed. He took a fresh flannel shirt and pair of worn in jeans from the duffle bag sitting at the foot of the bed.

His phone vibrated violently on the bedside table. He cursed under his breath as he hurriedly pulled on his clothes before the phone rattled itself off the table. He managed to scoop it up before it fell. “Yes?”

“John, it’s Mina,” came the annoyingly frail voice of his cousin.

John squeezed his eyes shut and sipped in a steadying breath. “Hey, Mina. What’s up?”

Mina didn’t speak, and John knew she was struggling to choose her words. He could hear a television in the background. “Jane keeps asking when you’ll be coming for her,” Mina whispered. A door shut and the sound of the television ceased. “I can’t keep telling her I don’t know. Eventually she’ll want a real answer.”

John found a fresh pair of thick wool socks in his bag and sat down on the bed to pull them on. He wedged the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not sure when I’ll be done—back,” John caught himself. He cleared his throat as he took the phone back in his hand. “Do I need to talk to her?”

“It might help a little,” Mina said. The door squeaked open and she called for Jane. John winced at how loud she was.

A few moments later, Jane’s precious voice squealed, “Dad!”

A smile broke across John’s face before he could stop it. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Mina said you might be coming here soon?”

“I’m not sure, Jane. I still have work to finish up here. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

The answering silence was painful to John’s ears. Disappointing Jane was the thing he hated most in life. “You’re having a good time with Mina, though, right?” John asked, attempting to divert attention from his homecoming.

“I guess so,” Jane mumbled. “I just miss you, Dad.”

John swallowed hard, stood to his feet, and paced. “I’ll be back soon, Jane. I promise.”

“OK, Dad,” Jane sighed.

“I love you, Jane,” John’s voice broke and he slammed a fist into the wall. What the hell was wrong with him? “I need to go now. Listen to Mina.”

“Yes, sir,” Jane replied.

“Good girl.” John smiled. “I’ll talk to you later.” He ended the call just as he heard Mina’s squawk for him to hold on.

John stared blankly ahead, trying to collect his thoughts. That slight waft of doubt was starting to creep out of a distant corner of his mind. He turned on his heel and strode across the room. He yanked open the top drawer of the hotel dresser and sifted through its contents. After a brief search, he pulled out a stack of photos and relief washed over him, followed by steely resolve.

He reminisced back to the inception of everything. He and Jane had just moved into his mother’s old house. That first night there, after Jane had gone to bed, John paced through every room, unable to sleep. He had left his mother’s house and gone to the only place open at the time, the local coffee shop three blocks away. While he sat staring into his jet-black dark roast, a young man in the chair next to his struck up a conversation. Something had instantly connected between the two of them. Before John knew what had happened, they were arranging to meet again and talk further.

Eventually, John was having conversations with the young man he had only ever conducted in the safety of his mind. This man not only understood John’s hatred, he had given him an outlet. A plan. At first, John had recoiled, utterly repulsed by what the man was suggesting. But then the slut across the street from John had had one of her “parties”, which had involved taking the festivities to her room with one particular male partygoer. When John had gone to tuck Jane in, he had found her at her window, unable to tear herself away from the amorous show taking place in the window across the street. He had no explanation to give Jane. He had simply tucked her in and made sure her curtains were drawn completely.

John lowered himself to the hotel floor and laid out the photos like he was setting up a card game. Placing the photos in neat rows, he took a moment to admire each one before he set it down. This was why he had sent Jane away. This was why he had to keep going. To hold onto the feeling of completion these photos and the memories behind them brought.

He got to the last photo, the first girl, and stroked a finger across it reverently before placing it on the floor with the others. That first time had been … intoxicating. He hadn’t even meant to kill Cheryl. He’d gone over there to tell her to keep her curtains shut. Next thing he knew, she was offering him a joint and leading him to her bedroom. He followed her, intent on getting his point across. She’d made some comment about Jane picking the flowers off her pathetic rose bushes, and John felt something just snap. His hands were around her neck, and he was pressing her body into the saggy mattress with all of his weight. When the light left her eyes and she stared up at him with a gaping mouth, he couldn’t believe how calm he felt. How clearly the answer to his anger and frustration of the past year presented itself. The man from the coffee shop had been right.

For a moment, John sat on the floor of his hotel room and stared in awe at his artwork and allowed his eyes to roam hungrily over each image. This was his pride and joy, what he looked forward to every morning he woke, what he was on this earth to do. Cleanse the world of its army of poisonous whores.

The phone buzzed again in his pocket. John answered the call as he picked up another picture.

“Yes?” he muttered as he crossed his legs under him.

“You’ve been found,” came an emotionless voice from the other end.

John’s entire body went cold. “Wait, what? That’s impossible—”

“You need to vacate before you’re located. If you don’t have time, you must fall on the sword.”

“How long do I have?” John pleaded but the call ended.

Mind racing, John quickly shoved the photos into a sloppy pile and stumbled to his feet. He yanked open the dresser drawer and scooped its contents into his arms. He dropped everything onto the bed and dropped to the floor to retrieve the duffle bag underneath it.

As he frantically packed, he glanced out the shaded windows. The parking lot seemed just as dead as it was the last time he checked it. He hoped it would stay that way long enough for him to make it to his truck and get the hell out of town.

_____

“We got him,” Dade said as he climbed into the passenger seat and yanked his seatbelt on.

“You spoke with Betty?” Ada asked.

Dade nodded. “He visited his mom a few weeks ago, out of nowhere. A week later, she was going through her things and noticed that one of her credit cards was missing.”

“Why didn’t she say anything to anyone?” James asked as he started the car and pulled away from Cheryl Adams’ house.

“She figured her son was in trouble. Didn’t want to make things worse for him.”

Ada took a deep breath and turned to look out the window. “So, we’re going to speak with him?”

“If everyone’s up for a trip to Kirkland,” Dade replied as he tapped an address into his phone.

“What’s his name?” James asked as he turned down toward the highway.

Dade connected his phone to the car’s sound system and a female voice began calmly giving directions. “John Klinton.”

CHAPTER 14

John burst back into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. He had moved his truck to right outside the door. All he had to do was grab his things and move on to the next hotel. How he had been found, he had no clue. Now was not the time to worry about that.

He strode to the bed and slung his bag onto his shoulder. Opening the bedside table drawer, John removed a small knife and tiny paper packet. He carefully placed both into his front pants pocket.

Outside, a car crunched its way into the parking lot. John froze, every muscle clenched. The car stopped and shut off a few yards from his door. There was silence for a few tense seconds. Then two car doors opened and closed within a few beats of each other.

John glanced uselessly around the room for an escape. The door was his only way out. For now, all he could do was wait to see who was in the parking lot, and if they were there for him.

_____

“I’ll go to the front desk and see if I can get anywhere with the owner,” James said as he pulled off his sunglasses and squinted up at the sun stubbornly trying to pierce the eternal gray haze of clouds.

Dade nodded and pointed at the unoccupied and running truck a few parking spots down from them. “I’m gonna see who this belongs to.”

As James walked away from the car, Brenda opened her door and swung her feet to the running board. “Need some help?” she called to Dade.

He glanced back at her and shook his head. “You ladies stay in the car, let the men poke around for a minute.”

Brenda rolled her eyes and retreated back into the car.

_____

Someone knocked on the door, and John fully expected his heart to burst out of his chest and land on the ugly hotel carpet. He didn’t move as he waited to see if the stranger knocking on the door would just move on.

It was a full five eternal seconds before a second pattern of knocks sounded, more firm this time. “Anyone home? There’s a car running out here, just wanted to make sure everything’s OK,” came a male voice from the other side of the door.

John could hear law enforcement in the man’s voice. He debated answering that the car wasn’t his, but realized a normal person would answer the door to tell someone that. And he was not about to put himself in front of a cop.

He heard the man shuffle outside his door for a moment, as if debating whether to move on to the next room. John slipped his hand into his pocket and touched the knife.

Solid steps sounded as the man walked away from the door. John let out a gush of breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He clamped his hands over his face and willed his heart and nerves to calm.

Once he had calmed, John let his hands drop. He bent down to pick up the bag from where his shaking hands had released it. As he straightened and slung the bag back onto his shoulder, his eyes met the man’s through the room window.

_____

Dade locked eyes with the room’s occupant and instantly knew the face staring back at him. His hand twitched reflexively for his gun, but he resisted pulling it. The last thing he needed was to spook John.

“Everything OK in there?” Dade called to John, watching as the scrawny man remained frozen in the middle of the room.

John nodded but stayed still.

From the idling truck and the bag on John’s shoulder, it was obvious he was about to leave. Dade was prepared to prevent that, but not without backup. “All right, just wanted to make sure,” Dade said as cordially as he could muster. He gave John a single wave and stepped away from the window.

As he headed back to the SUV, Brenda opened the door again, a quip poised on her lips. Dade motioned for her to get back in the car, and she did so without hesitation, noting the tense look on his face.

Dade opened the passenger door and slid in. “He’s in room eight,” he said as he dialed James.

“You’re sure?” Brenda asked, watching John’s door.

Dade nodded as James answered his phone. “James, he’s in room eight. I just got a visual on him. He looks like he’s getting ready to bail.”

Ada craned her neck for a better view around Brenda. “So are you going to pick him up?”

Dade ended his call with James and pressed the top of his phone to his cheek as he locked a steely gaze on Room 8. “We don’t have a warrant and no reason to talk to him, honestly.”

“What about the credit card?” Brenda offered.

Dade shrugged. “His mom never reported it, so we shouldn’t even know he has it.”

James returned from the front desk and opened the driver door. “Room eight?”

Dade nodded and moved to exit the car.

James held up a staying hand. “I got the clerk to print me a room bill. I’m going to tell him his card was declined.”

Without another word, James shut the door again and strode over to the room door. Brenda leaned toward Dade and socked him in the shoulder. “Told you the credit card would work.”

_____

James rapped on the door and cleared his throat. “Mr. Klinton? I’m from the front desk, we have a question about your payment method for the room.” His ears strained for movement in the room, but heard nothing.

Carefully, James motioned behind his back for Dade to leave. He listened as the car started moments later and drove slowly away from the front of the hotel.

Like clockwork, the door’s lock turned as soon as the SUV was out of sight. James planted a tight, cordial expression on his face as he prepared for the door to open.

When John cracked the door, James noted his haggard appearance and frayed nerves. This man had done more than steal his mother’s credit card.

“Is there a problem?” John’s voice was gravelly. He studied James.

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Klinton. We received your checkout notice and tried to run the card you provided. Unfortunately, it was declined.” James switched his expression to one of concern and lowered his voice. “Do you have another card you’d like us to use?”

John cursed under his breath and looked down at his feet. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, we need to receive payment for the room before you leave, sir,” James replied in a slightly irked tone.

John’s frown remained in place. “I’ll see what I can figure out.”

“Perhaps you could call your wife and see if she knows why the card’s been declined. This might all be a simple misunderstanding with your credit card provider.”

“My wife?” John huffed. “I’m not married.”

James now employed a conspicuously confused full-face frown. “The name on the card is Betty Klinton. We assumed that was your wife …”

“No, that’s my mother’s name. She gave me the card. Well, we share it, I mean.” John’s voice quivered slightly.

James straightened and pressed his fingertips together. “Mr. Klinton, I’m afraid we’ll need to speak with your mother. To verify that you’re authorized to use this card. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to bring up this matter with the authorities.”

John slapped his hand against the back of the door and hissed, “My mother is in the hospital. She doesn’t need some hotel employee bothering her about a card.”

James took a step back and held up his hands. “Like I said, Mr. Klinton, we just need payment before you check out. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

As James turned away and walked toward the hotel office, he smoothly slipped his phone from his pocket and texted Dade. He heard John’s door slam shut but the lock didn’t slide into place. John was about to make a break for it.

_____

John leaned back against the door of the hotel room and balled his fists. First the nosy cop, now the hotel staff. Neither had seemed like the threat that had been called in to him, which left John wondering what was coming next. “I’m not sticking around to find out,” he muttered, pushing himself off the door.

He scooped up his belongings and cautiously peered out the hotel window. The hotel clerk had already made it back to the front office, and the black SUV had not returned. The parking lot was a ghost town, save for his truck.

John cast one more glance around the room, running through his mental checklist of items. The last thing he needed was to get sloppy now. He only had three more stops on his list. Three more stops and then he’d go home.

His hand enveloped the doorknob just as the roar of a pack of police cars ignited the empty parking lot.

_____

“This guy is a person of interest?” asked the deputy as he sidled up to James.

James finished strapping on his bulletproof vest and nodded. “The most promising lead we’ve had this whole case.” He motioned to the handful of officers barricaded behind their patrol cars. “Your officers can move in.”

The deputy gave James a sizing glare and swept his hand toward the hotel room. In a tight huddle, four officers scuttled up to the room’s door, weapons drawn. A female officer stepped forward and pounded her fist on the door. “John Klinton, this is Seattle PD. I need you to open the door.”

James glanced over his shoulder at Dade and tilted his head toward the group. Dade grinned and jogged over to assist the officers.

Dade drew his gun as he crept up behind the female officer and tapped her shoulder. She stepped aside and Dade assumed her position. “John, you have five seconds, and then we’re coming in,” he shouted as he leaned an ear against the door.

James heard footsteps behind him. Brenda appeared beside him, hand poised over her holster. “Miss Brandt staying in the car?” James asked.

Brenda nodded, her focus on Dade and the officers. “I think that’s best,” Brenda murmured.

Dade turned back to look at James for the signal to enter. James took in a deep breath then gave Dade a single nod. He watched as Dade walked one giant pace back from the group then planted a solid kick on the door of Room 8.

_____

Dade burst into the room, the officers directly behind him. The first thing Dade saw was John Klinton falling to the floor like he’d been shot. The second thing Dade saw was a steady stream of white foam pouring from John’s gaping mouth.

“Dammit!” Dade shouted as he holstered his gun and dropped to his knees beside John’s seizing body. Dade struggled to tip the man onto his side. “Get the medics in here!” he barked to the frozen group of uniforms at the doorway.

A few moments later, the medical team took over the room and Dade found himself backed against the window. James and Brenda appeared in the doorway, and Dade could feel the anger emanating from James. “He was collapsing right when we got in the room,” Dade sighed, watching the medics work furiously to revive John. He knew their efforts would be futile.

No one said a word until the medics admitted defeat and pulled away from John’s lifeless body. “He’s gone,” a medic said as he began removing equipment from John’s body.

While the medics prepared to move John’s body from the room, the CSI unit arrived to process the scene. Everyone snapped into work mode, only muttering small sentences to each other when necessary. Dade, Brenda, and James entered behind the CSI team, noting certain items throughout the room.

John’s duffel bag lay near the foot of the bed. James picked it up and placed it on the bed. He carefully pulled it open and meticulously pulled out items. A CSI officer stood beside him and bagged items as James handed them over.

“Need any help?”

James, Brenda, and Dade turned in unison and gave Ada matching surprised looks. Ada remained planted in the doorway of the room, her hands buried deep in her pockets. Her face was slightly ashen and her eyes wide as she took in the activity in the room.

“I can call someone to bring you back—” Brenda said, but Ada held a hand up to silence her.

“I saw them … taking John out of the room, so I figured I should come see what I could do,” Ada said, her wide-eyed gaze coming to rest on James.

James regarded her for a moment then pulled an extra pair of gloves from his back pocket and held them out to her. “I have something you could take a look at,” he told her.

Ada stepped carefully into the room and took the gloves from James. On the bed, James had neatly arranged the contents of John’s bag while the CSI officer cataloged everything. James picked up a well-worn brown notebook and handed it to Ada. “See if there’s anything in there worth noting.”

Ada silently took the notebook from him and retreated to a quiet corner of the room to leaf carefully through the book. It was filled with chicken scratch in ironically neat little rows. Ada glanced up from the notebook and caught Dade’s attention. He crossed the room to her, a weary look on his face.

“What happened? I thought the plan was to bring him in for questioning?” Ada asked.

Dade grimaced. “Yeah, well, he changed the plan on us.” He glanced at a matted section of shag carpet near the door. “He was already seizing when we got through the door. There really wasn’t anything we could do.”

“How do we know if he’s the killer?”

Dade gave her a sideways look. “If you were innocent, would you kill yourself instead of opening a door?”

Ada felt her cheeks warm. “It just would have been nice to get a confession from him.”

“I have the next best thing,” James interjected. He pulled out a stack of photographs that had been rubber banded together out of the bag. He waited for the CSI officer to photograph the stack before he undid the rubber band and flipped through the photos.

Brenda, Dade, and Ada gathered around him. Each photo featured a woman posed as if she had been photographed while sleeping. The bruises around each woman’s neck and the sickly white pallor of their skin were the only clues that each of the photos were the women’s last.

After the third picture, Ada swallowed roughly and turned back to the notebook in her hands. She attempted to ignore Dade’s detailed interpretation of the ligature marks by analyzing the seventh page in the notebook. As she skimmed yet another scribbled row, something seemed off about the first line of text. She flipped back to page six to compare, and her frown deepened.

Still studying the book, Ada reached out and tapped the nearest shoulder. “Look at this,” she mumbled as she traced her finger below a particularly odd row of scribbles.

The book left her hands and Ada resisted the urge to yank it back. She followed the book as James pulled it close to his face and scrutinized it. “What am I looking at?” he grumbled, obviously eager to return to the photos.

Ada leaned in as close as she dared and placed her finger along the fourth row on the page. “These are two different forms of handwriting.”

James, uncomfortable with their proximity, backed away a few centimeters from Ada. He tried to mask his move by faking a cough but Ada had already noticed. “Looks like two different people,” he confirmed.

James gave the notebook a few more seconds of scrutiny then passed the book to the CSI officer. “We’ll have our handwriting guy look at it,” he said to Ada without looking at her. He held his hand out to Dade for the stack of photos. “You were right about the trophies, by the way.”

Ada didn’t respond as James fanned the photos out like a hand of cards. He pulled two of the pictures out and held them side by side. “We can definitely pin Tina and Lana’s deaths on him,” he told her. “It looks like there’s another body after Lana, though.”

Tina’s lifeless body reclined in the backseat of a car would haunt Ada’s dreams for weeks to come, she was sure of it. Ada forced her eyes away from the photo. “Looks like you got your guy.”

James sifted the photos back into a neat stack and chuckled. “Don’t sound so excited.” He handed the photos to the CSI officer’s waiting hand and swirled his index finger in the air to Dade and Brenda. “Let’s get back to the station and start the wrap up.”

Ada led the way out of the room, happy for fresh air.

CHAPTER 15

“John Klinton the serial killer” was the only topic Ada heard for the week following John’s suicide. His story was all over the news and the subject of every hallway conversation, especially among her crime novelist students. Even Uncle Mike had called to get the juicy inside details from her as “research” for his next project. Ada chalked it up to pure fascination with a local serial killer.

Ada managed to return to her old life, for the most part. She had only had to spend one afternoon at the police station during the FBI’s closing pow-wows for the case, giving her statements and insights in relation to John’s parallels with the Gary Ridgway.

After that, she had been released back to being just a college professor. Something Ada thought would bring her some peace. Instead, she felt an unmistakable restlessness.

As she sat in the last class of the day, Ada’s mind began its now usual wandering. She was grateful that it was a student share day. It gave her the opportunity to space out under the guise of “getting into the story.” Horrible teaching methods, she knew, but a switch in her brain had flipped, and she couldn’t locate the emergency power cut.

Time slowed to a glacial pace. What felt like years passed before the class mercifully ended and her students filed from the room. Ada picked up her phone and checked it for texts, emails, any news from beyond the walls of the classroom. It was disappointingly still.

“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice echoed in the empty classroom.

Ada felt her lips part into an embarrassingly large smile. “Brenda!” she greeted breathlessly, repressing the urge to run across the room and bear-hug the agent.

Brenda returned Ada’s smile with almost equal wattage as she strode into the classroom. “Did I catch you at a good time?”

Ada rolled her eyes. “Don’t even try to pretend you don’t know my schedule. You know it better than I do.”

“I’m thorough,” Brenda shrugged as she reached Ada’s desk. Her smile slipped slightly as she touched a finger to the edge of the desk. “I, uh, came to say goodbye.”

Ada tightened her grip on her phone, trying to swallow down the tight ball of disappointment in her throat. “You’re leaving already?”

“Well, it has been about a week since the case closed,” Brenda replied, looking about as pleased as Ada felt. “We have other cases waiting for us back in DC.”

Ada nodded. “Of course.” A few moments of awkward nothing passed between them before Ada could bring herself to speak. “When do you leave?”

Brenda glanced at her watch. “I think we’re wheels up in two hours.”

Ada stood and took a step toward the door. Taking the hint, Brenda followed her out of the room. “So that’s it?” Ada asked as they stepped out into the bustling hallway.

Brenda nodded as she sidestepped around a group of girls. “James delivered the final statement at this morning’s press conference,” she replied. “You didn’t see it?”

“I’ve been in class all day,” Ada reminded her.

Brenda nodded, maneuvering around another group of squawking students.

Ada tried to think of something to say as they arrived at the building entrance. They paused in front of the glass doors, both women looking at their feet. Fed up with the uncomfortableness, Ada snapped her head up and blurted, “I’m really glad you were the one who got stuck with me.”

Relief flooded Brenda’s face as a warm grin graced her lips. “Good. I was afraid I was the only one who thought that.” She chuckled as she clapped a hand on Ada’s shoulder. “I know this wasn’t the most enjoyable experience for you, but I’m glad you stuck it out. I’d like to think it all worked out in the end.”

Ada nodded. “You were definitely the bright spot of the past few weeks.” She blushed and shook her head. “Listen to us. We sound like summer camp crushes.”

The two women shared a laugh, and then the silence returned. Brenda glanced at her watch again and clapped her hands together. “Well, I’ve got a plane full of antsy FBI agents to get to. Last thing I want to hear is Dade complaining about missing out on his DC weekend.”

“That does sound potentially miserable,” Ada joked. She waved her phone at Brenda. “If you’re ever in town again, don’t hesitate.”

“I won’t. I might even call to pick your brain every now and then if a case calls for some ‘Ada insight.’”

Ada grinned. “You know my hourly rate.”

Brenda rolled her eyes and took a step backwards. “I’ll see you later, Professor.”

Without hesitating, Ada stepped up to the agent and wrapped her in a tight hug. Brenda didn’t respond for almost three full seconds; then her arms returned the embrace. Ada pulled back a little and grinned, her eyes shining slightly. “Keep in touch. Even when you don’t have a case.”

Brenda nodded and gave Ada one last squeeze before stepping away. She walked a few paces then she turned on her heel and called back to Ada, “Oh, I almost forgot. Someone was waiting for you in your office.”

Ada groaned. “It’s probably my boss, wondering why I haven’t submitted grades in two weeks.” She gave Brenda one last sad wave, which the agent returned before continuing on her way to the exit. Ada swallowed the small lump that had bubbled up in her throat then headed toward her office.

_____

“I’m so sorry, sir, I ran into someone on the way here,” Ada gushed as she pushed her office door open. She was sure to quickly shut the door behind her, not wanting her coworkers to hear the verbal lashing she was undoubtedly about to receive.

She squared her shoulders and turned to face the sure-to-be hardened grimace of Dean Bridges then blinked stupidly for a few seconds when her eyes discovered James Deacon waiting for her instead.

James furrowed his brow at her. “Since when did you start calling me ‘sir?’”

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” Ada bit back then winced at the acidity of her retort. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

James dismissed her with a wave as he leaned against the edge of her desk. “The plane won’t leave without me.”

Ada brushed past him to her desk and noticed a bag of coffee perched beside James. “Seattle souvenir?”

James picked up the bag and turned to face her. “A token of appreciation for your help.” He held the bag out to her.

As Ada accepted the coffee, she chuckled at the familiar bag. “Unbelievable.”

A look of slight uncertainty flashed across James’s face. “This is the one you had in your kitchen. Right?”

Ada nodded and tucked the coffee into her bag. “Exactly the one. You really can’t turn the FBI thing off, can you?” she teased.

“It’s probably part of my DNA now.” James glanced at something to the left of Ada, obviously feeling uncomfortable.

Ada tried to clear the air a little. “Brenda could’ve told me you were the one waiting. I would have gotten here sooner—”

“She suggested I surprise you.”

“Oh,” Ada blinked.

James cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “She also suggested I make sure you know how much we appreciated your help with the case.”

Ada gave him a half smile. “It was actually not as painful an experience as I thought it would be.”

James unexpectedly thrust his hand across the desk toward her.

Ada accepted his hand and blinked at his tight shake.

“I really do appreciate your expertise,” James said as he released his grip and plunged his hands into his pockets. “You really helped us make the big break.”

Ada shrugged. “I’m glad I was able to do something.” Her eyes flitted downward. “It was a nice reprieve from the classroom, actually.” She glanced back up with a coy grin. “So, I guess I should be thanking you. Even though there were some times I felt like strangling you.”

“Confessing to wanting to kill an FBI agent. Nice,” James said, fixing Ada with a stern glare. When Ada’s grin slipped, his lips parted into a teasing grin and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Relax. You’re not the first person who’s felt that way. Probably not the last, either.”

Ada exhaled a shaky laugh. “Probably not.”

James’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He quickly silenced it. “I guess I should be going.”

“Thanks again for the coffee. And for putting up with me.”

“Likewise,” James said with a grin that Ada could only describe as devilish. “If you ever find yourself in DC, I’m sure the team would love to see you again.”

“Absolutely.” Ada held her hand up in an awkward small wave. “Have a safe flight.”

James nodded in farewell then turned to leave, crossing the office in three strides. He pulled the door open and gave her one last polite grin over his shoulder before he left. She caught herself listening to the click of his loafers on the hallway floor.

She reached back into her bag and removed the coffee. She held it to her nose and took a deep sniff. That was when she noticed something white jutting out from the bottom of the bag.

Ada tipped the bag over and James’s business card was there to greet her. She carefully pulled it free of the bag and studied it for a moment. When she flipped the card over, she discovered a single sentence scribed on the back. “Pleasure to work with you, Professor,” she read aloud.

She shook her head and tucked the card into her pocket.

_____

“Get lost?” Dade asked as James entered the plane cabin and ducked into his usual perch at the first table on the left.

James fastened his lap belt then removed the large manila envelope from his carry-on bag and dumped its contents onto the table before him. He pointedly ignored Dade’s flippant remark. “We can go,” he called to the captain hovering by the cockpit door.

As the plane taxied down the runway, Brenda and Dade joined James at his table and strapped into their seats. “Did she like the coffee?” Brenda asked carefully.

James nodded as he removed John Klinton’s notebook from the small pile of evidence. He settled back into his seat as the plane began its ascent.

_____

Ada pulled into her driveway and yanked the parking brake up. She grinned as Tiny’s head appeared in the window by the front door, his tongue wagging as he panted excitedly. Ada turned off the car and stepped out, leaving her work things in the passenger seat. It was the weekend; she’d get to that later.

She shut her door and leaned back against it. As she looked up at the sky, her thoughts strayed to her mother. She had surfaced in Ada’s mind countless times since the case had wrapped, both in her dreams and at unexpected times of the day. The first time it had happened, Ada was walking Tiny and their trek had taken them through a small park. A group of children were scurrying around the playground and one girl in particular caught Ada’s attention. She and her mother were swinging side-by-side, holding hands and giggling about nothing in particular.

Without provocation, Ada had wondered if she had ever shared a moment like that with her mother. Had they been able to create memories together that were now locked away somewhere in Ada’s mind? She had spurred Tiny away from the playground as her eyes welled, but the thought haunted her for the few days. A week later, she had a dream that she knew, as soon as it was over, was real. She had seen her mother crawling around the floor of what looked like Ada’s childhood bedroom, her face contorted comically as she growled ferociously. Small squeals of delight rang out with each step her mother took, and Ada knew instantly the squeals were coming from toddler Ada. Her mother reached her and swiftly tugged her against her chest in a giggling bear hug. As Ada awoke from the dream, she unmistakably felt that same hug enveloping her where she lay. Instead of panicking, Ada had squeezed her eyes shut and prayed the feeling would never go away.

What had unlocked this long-banished area of her memory, Ada couldn’t definitively say. She couldn’t help but muse at the timing, though. Maybe Uncle Mike had been right. Her time with the BAU seemed to have mentally pushed her through barricades she’d erected throughout her subconscious, leading her to a well of priceless moments in time that she had excommunicated long ago to save herself from the potential heartbreak. It was an unexpected gift that she would cherish forever.

Snapping out of her daydream, Ada pushed herself off the car, walked to the end of the driveway, and grabbed the mail from the mailbox, waving to a passing group of children on their bikes. They waved back then continued their furious race down the street toward the park.

Flipping through the sizable stack of envelopes, Ada strode up the sidewalk and climbed the porch steps. Before she reached the door, she stooped down to pick up the paper. Odd that it was here and not in with the mail like she’d requested.

A blue piece of paper jutted out from the tightly folded newspaper. Stuffing the mail underneath her arm, Ada unwound the newspaper and tugged the rogue piece of paper free. Uneasiness began to well in the pit of her stomach but she ignored it.

She carefully opened the folded piece of paper and squinted to read the impressively formal handwriting.

You must be very proud of yourself, Ada Brandt. The mind of a serial killer is a formidable path to journey down, but you handled it with finesse. I suppose it takes someone with intimate experience to really crack a killer. Your father is proud, I’m sure. I look forward to seeing how the FBI handles the next player.

Until next time,

Sakima

The paper fluttered to the porch with the rest of the mail. Every muscle in Ada’s body tensed. A bush rustled on the other side of the porch, and Ada’s eyes shot toward it. Adrenaline flooded her veins and spurred her to action. She raced back to her car and barricaded herself inside.

Inside the house, Tiny barked, confused as to why Ada had teased him with the prospect of getting out of the house. Ada’s mind was racing nearly as fast as her heart. She brought her trembling hands to her face and fought to steady her breath before the black spots in her vision grew into a full-on faint.

As her mind cleared, she fished through her bag until she found her phone. Her right hand dug into her pocket and pulled out the now crumpled business card. Her left thumb pressed in the phone number.

_____

James scanned a page of the notebook then flipped over to the next. Every page so far was lined with numbers—most likely coordinates—and a coded note. Each page contained around four or five lines of this. The handwriting analyst had confirmed Ada’s hunch about two separate handwriting patterns. That meant John either had an accomplice or had happened upon this notebook and continued the work. James was not comfortable with either option. Both meant there was another killer out there.

An agent stepped up to the table and leaned toward James. “Sir, we have a call coming in from DC. Someone trying to reach you at your office line. She said it’s urgent.”

James cursed under his breath and slapped the notebook onto the table. He unhooked his lap belt and rose from his seat. He followed the agent to the front of the plane and picked up the phone. He waited for the agent to head back to the others before answering. “Agent Deacon speaking.”

_____

“He knows my name. He knows where I live,” Ada gasped into the phone as she continued her wide-eyed scan of the front of her house. Tiny was still barking.

“Ada?” James’s voice sounded like it was coming from a tin can. Understandable, seeing as he was probably over Colorado by now.

Ada fought to control the words tumbling through her brain. She let out a shaky breath through pursed lips then tried again. “There was a note at my house when I got home from work.”

“What kind of note?” James asked, a slight ticking sound coming through the phone whenever he spoke.

Ada forced herself to recall. “Handwritten, on a folded piece of paper. Congratulating me on helping the FBI, basically.” The pack of bike riders whizzed directly behind her car, startling her. She must have cursed out loud because she heard James clear his throat.

“Maybe you’ve got an admirer. I did mention we had help from a local analyst in the case. Maybe someone at the police station gave them your name.”

“Did you ever tell anyone at the station my real name?” Ada hissed.

“Of course not.”

Ada squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her head back into the driver’s seat. “This person used my real name. Said my father … my father would be proud of how I knew a serial killer’s mind.”

James sighed and must have switched the phone to his other hand from the scraping sound that came over the line. “Where are you now?”

“I ran back to my car.”

“Did you see anyone? Did it look like someone tried to get into your house?”

Ada shook her head then remembered she was on the phone. “I didn’t check. I was too freaked out.”

“Understandable.” James didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Do you want me to send some uniforms to your house, just to check it out?”

The genuine concern Ada heard in his voice confused her almost as much as the fact that he had been her first phone call, not the police. “No. Tiny is at the window like he always is. If someone were in there, he would be raising hell.”

“True.” Ada could hear the grin in James’s voice. “Send the note to my office. I’ll have our lab tech take a look at it, see if we can lift anything from it.”

“I already touched it. I probably contaminated everything. It’s been outside too.” The words were beginning to tumble out of her mouth now.

James sighed again. “I’m not sure what I can do for you then.”

Ada pressed her free hand to her forehead and thought back through the note then remembered why James Deacon had been her first instinctive phone call. “The note said that there would be other players for the FBI to handle. Whatever that means.”

“That’s all the note said?”

“Basically. I don’t really remember every word. I was too busy trying not to throw up.”

“Was the note signed?” James pushed.

Sakima. Why did that sound so familiar? “Yes. ‘Until next time, Sakima,’” Ada answered.

The phone line lit up with short static bursts. Ada pulled the phone back as her ear began buzzing. “James?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I think we’re hitting some weather or something.” James’s voice grew more distant. “I had a feeling this would happen.”

“You had a feeling bad weather would happen?”

A pause. “No. I had a feeling this was more than just John Klinton as soon as you showed me that notebook.”

“So, there’s another killer?”

“That’s my thought.”

Ada sighed. “Why contact me, then? And use my real name.”

“I don’t know, Ada,” James said. “I hope you’re ready, though.”

Ada’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Whatever this is, you’re a part of it now. And like it or not, we’re not done yet.”

Acknowledgements

When the story of Ada Brandt popped into my head in 2012, I was under the assumption that this would be something that would help me produce a thesis and graduate with an MFA. Little did I know that it would transform from a 60-page TV script into a novel, which would then spread its wings even further into a trilogy. As soon as I entered the last period of The Mirror Stage, I realized that the real work was just beginning. After taking a deep breath and promising myself that I was not insane for continuing to invest in this fantasy of becoming an author, I began to reach out for assistance. The people that came alongside me and lent a helping hand are all saints in my eyes.

To Kate, I am forever indebted to you for all the wisdom you’ve bestowed on me. Thank you for patiently answering every ridiculous question I shot at you through Facebook message after Facebook message. You gave me the courage to get to where I am today, and I will continue to offer my gratitude until I’m blue in the face.

To Cindi, my on-a-whim beta reader, thank you for carving time in your life for my little book. You were the first person to read this story in its entirety, and the insight you offered me helped push this novel to the next level. Hope you’re still up for Book 2!

To Julie, my enthusiastic and all-too-kind editor, you are simply the best. You took my lowly manuscript and cultivated it into the novel that it is today. Your encouragement and excitement for this story definitely brought me to a mess of happy tears on more than one occasion. Thank you for believing in me, thank you for falling in love with Ada and the crew, and thank you for being crazy enough to stick around for the rest of the ride.

To my parents, thank you for always encouraging me in whatever crazy thing I decide to do next. Thank you for making my childhood one enveloped in a love for reading and imagination. Without that foundation, I would have never been able to become a writer. Love you both.

To DJ, the rock that I could always cling to whenever doubt, insecurity or writer’s block struck me. Your encouragement and “gentle prods” gave me the strength and determination to see this thing through to the end. Thank you for taking care of all this technical stuff that makes my head spin just thinking about it. The book is dashing, and it’s all thanks to you. Love you, punk head.