36
My breath comesin a sharp, staccato rhythm as I hurry away fromJackson’soffice building. Ican’tshake the feeling of eyes watching me from the darkness.
I pause as I reach my bike. I might be about to lose everything, butthat’snot stopping me. I need to tell Hawkins the truth, to warn him that Hyde is closer than he thinks, and thathe’salready manipulating Jackson.
I can’t predict Hyde’s next move. I just need to hurry.
I pull out my phone. My heart lurches when I see Hawkins has already texted me.
His message is short and to the point.
Another body. Get here ASAP.
My stomach sinks. No. Not now.
I enter the address Hawkins sent into my phone and rev up the bike. The driveisn”tfar;it”sjust outside the city. The road snakes along the tree line, and soon I spot the team, yellow police tape marking the area, as if anyone would be wandering here on foot.
The team is huddleda bitdeeper into the trees, shielded by a white tent. Hawkins noticesmeand waves me over, his hands gloved in red-stained rubber. Brock offers an awkward glance as I pass, butI”mtoo numb to respond.
I keep my voice low, muttering to Hawkins as I follow him past the team.“Sir, I need to talk to you about Hyde.It’surgent.”
He raises a hand to halt me.“You’regoing to want to wait until after this.”
He lifts the tent flap, and I step inside. My stomach tightens at the sight of aman”sbody slumped on the ground, face obscured.
Though the killer is long gone, the scene exudes pure disdain for the victim. A wooden stake juts through thebody’sheart in a sickening blow.
I take a step closer.“Itdoesn’tresemble the other killings.”
It’s true; this looks closer to the copycat’s rushed murder than Hyde’s meticulously constructed nightmares.
Hawkins shakes his head.“The body is just dumped there, yes. But we found a note by the body. He wanted us to know this was him.”
“I’lltake a closer look.”I carefully begin to circle the body. My boots sink into the muddy grass as I walk clockwise.“This feels personal somehow. Just maybe in a different way to all the others. What have you got so far?”
I circle around to the other side of the body while Hawkins flips through his notepad. My gaze lands on thevictim’sface.It’shalf-obscured by his arm, slumping across his head.
My heartbeat stutters to a stop in my chest.
My chest instantly fills with ice.
“Frank Newman,”Hawkins reads.“Thirty-five. Brookhavendriver’slicense. Last known to be living at an address in a neighboring town. Seems to be unemployed.”
The rest of his sentence turns into a distant drone in my head.
I’m staring at a lifeless, pallid face. One that I’ve only seen once in the past decade, but one I’d recognize anywhere.
My foster brother. Frank.
“Cain?”
Hawkins’voice breaks through the buzz of white noise in my head.
“You catch something?”He walks to whereI’mstanding, glancing down at my eyeline.“You look like you saw a ghost.”
“No.”My voice is tight in my throat.“Just a dead man.”
I should tell Hawkins that I knowexactlywho this manis,and that I was possibly even one of the last few people to see him alive. But terror is flooding me, and Ican’tseem to start talking.
Because not long ago I was arguing with Frank outside my apartment, and now he’s a cold dead body.
Is Hyde taunting me?
Or is he… protecting me,in the most twisted way possible?
Hawkins grunts, turning away fromFrank’sbody.“Why would Hyde go after this man?”
Hyde told me that any man who touched me would die. My foster brother slaps me in the faceandthe next dayI’mstaring at his murdered corpse.
I dig my nails into my palms, willing my voice to start working again. I came here to tell Hawkins the truth about Hyde stalking me.There’sno other way to protect Jackson.
“I—I need to tell you something, Captain.”
He turns back to look at me expectantly. I open my mouth to begin, but the air drains from my lungs.
“What is it, Cain?”
I slowly lower my gaze toFrank’sface. His lifeless eyes stare back at me.
Butthat’snot what has frozen my heart in my chest.
That’snot why fear is coursing through me like poison.
There’sonly one person in the worldwhoI told about Frank confronting me last night. Only one person saw this mark along my cheekbone and knew it was fromFrank’shand.
Only one person.
Jackson Keller.
My stomach drops. Nausea floods me.
I push past Hawkins, darting out of the tent into the cold drizzle.
“Hey, Cain!”he shouts after me.“What the hell is going on?”
Because here’s the thing: Jackson doesn’t know that I didn’t tell anyone else about Frank.
“You okay, Ava?”Brock looks up from his notes as I rush by.
I ignore him;there’sno air in my lungsto form words.I walk past the crowd of investigators into thethicket of pine trees that surroundthe clearing.Idon’tstop untilit’squiet, the sound of the team lost in the distance behind me.
Rain mists in the air. I sinkdownto the ground, my knees hitting the spongy mix of dirt and pine needles coating the forest floor.
My brain desperately tries to grasp at excuses. I know Hyde has been stalking me; maybe he was watching from some hidden spot when Frank hit me. Ormaybehe was hiding inJackson’shouse much earlier than I thought, early enough to have overheard my panic-stricken confession to Jackson.
Or maybe…
No.
In my heart, in the place where my instincts lie, I know it’s just not true.
Jackson is Hyde.
My therapist is the fucking serial killerI’vebeen chasing.
The serial killer who iscompletelyobsessed with claiming my soul.
It all makes terrible, perfect sense. How did I not see it sooner?
The answer is painfully clear.
Because I really, truly didn’t want to.
Emotions clash like storm cloudsin my headas I stare into the dirt, my chest heaving.
There’srelief at the clarity this brings. Terror at the fact that Jackson knows every single time Hyde touched me—that it was him touching me.Angerthat I trusted him and opened up to him in a way Inever havedone before, not even to Lily.Confusion about why the hell he would kill those men.
But Ican’tdeny the other emotion, the onethat’ssimmering just under my skin.
There’sthe tiniest, pitch-black thrill.
I knowit’swrong. I feel guilt searing into me. But Ican’thelp it.
It felt so twisted being drawn to both utterly forbidden men. Off-limits for different reasons. The psychiatrist and the psycho serial killer. But now I knowthey’reone and the same.
Hyde is the only adversary to make me feel like this, and I need to be the one to destroy him.
“Cain!”
I hearHawkins’voice calling for me in the distance. I slowly stand, brushing the dirt from my black jeans.
I’m certain of this, but Hawkins won’t believe me without evidence. If I tell him the psychiatrist he’s trusted to advise on this case is actually the serial killer we’re pursuing, he’ll think I’m completely crazy. As he likes to remind me, I’m already on thin ice.
Naomi’smocking voice circles my brain. If Hawkins thinksyou’recrackpot enough to send you to a shrink, you have no right to be working on a case.
Whereas Jackson isHawkins’stable, intelligent advisor, respected throughout the city for his spotless reputation.
Hyde once dismissed the law to me, calling it slow and archaic.He’sright that it moves slowly. For now, I need to take this into my own hands. I need to join Hyde in the gamehe’sbeen urging me to play all along.
Now, the playing field is level.
A sudden calmness washes over me.Hawkins’shouts grow louder.
I turn back toward the direction I came from. But first, I pull out my phone, quickly textingJackson’snumber.
I’msorry for how the session ended earlier today. I wascompletelywrong.
Sorry to do this, butI need an emergency appointment.
Can I come over to your office right now?