Chapter 12
“What the hell am I missing?” Ashlyn mumbled as she sat there, staring down at the files that she’d spread across her coffee table as a werewolf movie played in the background to help her think.
Out of eighty-nine files, they’d eliminated one of them today and she had no idea how they did it, Ashlyn thought as her gaze flickered to the file in front of her.
She went over everything she’d learned today, trying to figure out what set it apart from the others.
Jillian Mathers went missing twenty-five years ago and was reported missing on Saturday evening after she didn’t show up for dinner.
The family immediately called the Winter Falls Tavern, where she worked as a hostess, to find out that she never showed up for her shift.
Within the hour, the family called the police and were searching for her around the Winter Falls Tavern, the surrounding woods, the fire lane that led to the old stone quarry, and the path that led from the tavern to the boat ramp that was less than a half-mile from Jillian’s house.
They found her body a few hours later, and by morning, they had Patrick in custody.
It was the only case where a suspect was not only found, but also convicted, so that begged the question, what did it have in common with the cases that Detective Black and Shayne were looking into?
It was obvious that it was one of the extra cases that she’d been given by mistake, which meant that it somehow fit the criteria they’d set.
The question was, what did it have in common with the eighty-seven cases that he’d requested?
Ashlyn wondered as she ran her eyes over the files covering her coffee table and-
Jillian’s body was found, which meant that she could immediately eliminate eight more cases, Ashlyn realized as she went through the cases and pulled the ones where a body had been found and placed them in a box.
“What else?” Ashlyn asked as she glanced back at the files and immediately removed the files for the women who were eventually found alive.
That brought her down to seventy-eight missing women, who had absolutely nothing in common, Ashlyn thought, slowly exhaling as she reached over and grabbed the file that they were supposed to look into tomorrow.
Megan Jorgenson.
She was twenty-two years old when she went missing from King Williams’ Faire in North Stonewall, New Hampshire, where she worked on the weekends.
During the week, she was a full-time student at Ashmount College.
She was single, had two brothers, lived on campus, and was last seen heading to the back of her tent to grab something for a customer.
When she didn’t return, the customer made her way to the guest services and filed a complaint, which prompted one of the organizers to look for her and-
She had no idea why this case was flagged.
She was missing something, but what? Ashlyn wondered as she stared at the folders, hoping that something would jump out at her only to decide to call it a night when she started seeing double.
Decision made, she got up and made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough and peanut butter cup ice cream, deciding that she’d more than earned it before grabbing a spoon and made her way to the bathroom.
Maybe she was going about this the wrong way, Ashlyn thought as she placed the ice cream down on the small table she kept by the bathtub.
Then again, maybe it was time to admit defeat, but before the thought had a chance to play out in her head, she immediately dismissed it, knowing that she couldn’t do that to Julia’s family.
Which meant that she was going to have to spend more time with the man that she once again found herself thinking about.
God, she was pathetic, Ashlyn thought, shaking her head in disgust as she leaned over and closed the drain before turning on the hot water and dropping a handful of lemongrass-scented bath salt in the tub.
As she pulled off her clothes, she found herself thinking about everything that she’d learned about him today and-
“There’s definitely something wrong with me,” Ashlyn muttered with a heavy sigh as she settled in the tub, grabbed the pint of ice cream and took a large bite, all while wondering when exactly she became gullible.
There really was no other explanation for why she was buying into his bullshit story.
Granted, there had been no doubt in her mind that he had a problem with motion sickness after he’d muttered, “Kill. Me,” during the entire drive to the tavern.
The slumping, groaning, and the two attempts he made to jump out of a moving car went a long way to back that story up, but it was the rest of his story that she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around.
The only thing that she knew without question was that she didn’t trust him, which meant that she was going to have to figure out what connected all these cases together so that she wouldn’t have to see him again.
That meant spending another day with him, Ashlyn realized on a pathetic groan as she took one last bite of ice cream before placing it back on the small table.
With a sigh, she dropped her head back against the tiled wall as she closed her eyes and found herself thinking about intense green eyes before everything slowly faded away.
Ráth Finnéin, Ireland
932 A.D.
She was dying, Lasarín realized as she lay there, trying to find the will to go on, or at the very least, the strength to roll onto her side so that her face wasn’t pressed against the floor.
After a moment, and a pathetic whimper, she finally managed to find the strength to push herself up onto her side so that she could glare at the man responsible for her impending death.
When she realized that he was already fast asleep, Lasarín narrowed her eyes on the large man that decided that the best way to hide her was to work her to death.
From the moment the sun came up until long after it went down, he made her work and when she wasn’t working, she was training, which usually ended with her face-first in the dirt.
It wouldn’t be a problem if she’d at least figured out a way to get close to the king, but unfortunately for her, and her poor muscles, she hadn’t seen the king once since she got here.
He stayed in his house, surrounded by guards and servants during the day and only went out late at night when she was too sore to do anything more than lie on the pallet Shayne made up for her, the same one that he’d added extra furs to, hoping that it would entice her to stop crawling into his bed every night.
His bed looked more comfortable than hers, Lasarín couldn’t help but notice as she took in the large bed against the wall, the wood platform that held up the thick wool mattress that was a lot more comfortable than the fur pallet that she was currently lying on and-
This just wouldn’t do.
Not at all, Lasarín decided with a heartfelt sigh as she moved to push herself up only to decide against it when her muscles protested the move and settled for crawling across the large room instead, pausing by the fire to throw another log on top of it, before she made her way to his bed, where she grabbed hold of the mattress and somehow managed to pull herself up without groaning pathetically.
Once she was sure that she wasn’t about to fall over, she ran her eyes over his back only to wince when she came to the welt that she made by accident this morning when she got her hands on an axe and decided to see if her skills had improved since yesterday.
They hadn’t.
Thankfully, Shayne managed to duck when the axe went flying out of her hand.
She probably should have run faster after that, but in her defense, her life flashed before her eyes before self-preservation kicked in.
Next time, she would run faster, Lasarín promised herself as she tightened her hold around the mattress and pulled herself up so that she could crawl onto his bed, and since that was all her muscles would allow her to do at the moment, she promptly fell face-first on his bed with a muffled sigh.
“We talked about this, lass,” came the muttered words that had her wincing.
“I’m already asleep?” she said, hoping that would be enough to get him to let her stay.
“Yer on top of the furs, lass,” Shayne pointed out with a heavy sigh.
“There are more furs on the pallet that ye were kind enough ta throw together for me that yer more than welcome ta,” Lasarín said as she moved to burrow beneath the furs to make it harder for him to drag her off the bed only to end up twisting half her body to the left and she wasn’t exactly sure what the rest of her body was doing.
The only thing that she knew was that everything hurt.
“Yer too kind, lass,” Shayne drawled as he turned over onto his side and-
“What exactly are ye doing, lass?” came the curious question as she wiggled in a desperate attempt to throw herself onto her back.
“Burrowing?”
“I can see that,” Shayne said dryly as he reached over and took pity on her by pressing his finger against her forehead and gently pushed, causing her to fall onto her back.
“Ye want ta tell me what’s wrong?” Shayne asked as he shifted to get more comfortable.
“I’m currently plotting my revenge for making me climb up that tree,” Lasarín said, willing her arm to move so that she could grab hold of a fur and pull it over herself only to release a pained groan instead.
“How is it my fault that ye chose ta climb up a tree, lass?” Shayne asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Because ye looked pissed,” she pointed out.
“Well, ye did just throw an axe at my head,” he reminded her as he pulled a fur over her.
“I was testing yer reflexes,” Lasarín said, really hoping that he didn’t threaten to spank her ass again.
“And when ye fell out of the tree, lass?” he asked as she felt the bed shift.