Chapter 36
I come to with the taste of blood in my mouth. My tongue is thick, my head pounding in slow, nauseating waves that don’t match the gentle sway rolling through the seat beneath me. A vibration. A hum. A moving vehicle.
The car jolts over a pothole, and panic slams up my spine. My brain scrambles, dragging up shredded pieces of memory:
Speed trap.
A shadow moving.
Glass exploding inward.
A burst of pain at my temple.
Then nothing. Blackness swallowed everything.
I’m upright now…and though my head weighs a thousand pounds, I manage to pry open my heavy eyelids. I’m strapped in.
Across my lap, my wrists are bound with heavy-duty flex cuffs, the kind officers and military use for mass arrests. They’re strong, unforgiving, and I know I won’t be getting out of them anytime soon.
I force my head to turn. My vision swims, then resolves enough to make sense of the man in the driver’s seat. Broad shoulders fill the space, his posture unnervingly rigid. One hand grips the wheel with eerie calm; the other rests low near his thigh on a gun angled toward me.
Ice floods my veins.
This is the man from the roadside. The shadow that moved faster than I could process, the one whose smile didn’t reach his eyes.
My tongue is like sandpaper in my mouth. “Who…who are you?”
He glances at me with hollow, terrifying eyes like murky glass. But he says nothing—only turns back to the road without a sound.
It could be anyone, but who would want me? One man. Zoe’s killer.
And if Ingram didn’t do it, this must be Mace.
My head clears just enough to speak. “Tell me who you are.”
“And who are you?” His voice is enough to make my skin crawl. “The bitch who ruined everything? Got too close…fucked things for my only brother?”
Brother?
His grip tightens on the wheel, knuckles whitening as the truck bumps over another patch of uneven ground. My stomach lurches with the movement.
If the killer has a brother—if I “ruined everything”—there’s only one man I’ve been after.
Maybe Ingram didn’t cover Zoe’s murder for himself but…for family?
A sick heat floods my chest. Did Ingram warn Mace to fix the bolts? Warn him I was getting too close? Did he tell Mace to get rid of me?
A memory flashes of Ingram coming in one last time to make a show of his vacation. God, was that his alibi?
Another jolt hits the truck, and I’m thrown sideways, the flex cuffs biting into my skin. Terror digs down into my bones.
But why would he take me? It does nothing to erase what I’ve found. But suddenly, it occurs to me. I left every big development out of the file so Ingram wouldn’t see it. There’s no Marshall interview. No Andy… GhostEye knows it all.
But Mace doesn’t know they know.
A tight, painful breath catches in my throat. I’m not ready to die.
I have a baby in my belly.
I have Anton.
His blue eyes flash in my mind—the way he asked me this morning to let GhostEye stay involved. The only time he’s ever asked me for anything. As always, it was worth following his lead.
Last night’s digging might be the thing that saves me.
And Anton said he was coming. Thank God. He’ll find my truck, and I hope to all that is holy…me.
I glance at the deranged man next to me, wiping sweaty strands from his forehead with his forearm, a gun still resting in his hand. He’s stripped me of my weapon. I have nothing to defend myself.
It’s not supposed to happen like this. No. Not now…
My bound hands lift toward my belly on instinct, and the moment I do, something primal surges through me like electricity, tightening every muscle I can still control. I have to fight. I grit my teeth and steady myself.
Everything in my gut screams from within: Today is not our day to die, baby girl.
The truck comes to a screeching halt, jerking me forward so violently that the seatbelt clamps across the underside of my stomach. A hot, instant sting burns behind my eyes, but adrenaline fills my veins with a rush to fight.
My jaw tightens as I lift my gaze to the man who took me. I’m bound, concussed, terrified if I’m honest—but inside, something feral bares its teeth.
Until I look past him.
We’re at the quarry.
Where Zoe died. Where Mariana died. Where two women vanished into rock and silence.
Mace kills the engine.
He steps out without a word. The passenger door swings open with violent force, cold air whipping across my face.
He reaches in, sweeping an arm across my stomach to hit the seatbelt release, far too close to everything I need to protect, and instinct takes over.
I surge my bound hands toward his face, aiming for his eyes. But he jerks back fast, faster than he should be able to, and shakes off the near miss with a snarl.
Then his gun comes up immediately, and he stares at me with a blank determination.
He gestures his weapon toward the cliff with unmistakable instruction. “Walk.”
My thoughts sharpen.
If I walk, I’m stepping straight into my death.
If I don’t, he might shoot me.
I’m terrified, and my eyes sting with tears, but I straighten my shoulders, buy time to think, time for Anton to find me, for him to make a mistake…anything.
“Where are we going?” I demand.
He snarls. “You know where the fuck we’re going.”
My heart pounds with indecision, and the only weapon I have is my words.
“You think I’m going to walk the plank just because you have a gun?” I bite.
He jerks the gun higher, pointing it straight in my face. One slip of a finger and I’m dead.
“Out of the truck!” He trembles with anger; spit flies with his command. “I said walk!”
I need to keep him calm. “Mace—”
Anxiety floods his system. “My name is fucking Mike…”
“Mike…” I slow my breath, trying to keep him talking, trying to think. “Getting rid of me won’t save you.”
“You think I give a shit about myself at this point?” His voice is high-pitched insanity.
He told me I fucked his brother over. He cares more about Ingram than himself. He thinks if I disappear, his brother has his life back.
I change tactics. “Killing me won’t save your brother. Justin, right? Justin Ingram?”
At his brother’s name, humanity flickers behind his eyes.
“If you really want to help him, you can’t do this,” I push. “Whatever you have planned only makes it worse. The only way to save him is to turn yourself in. Confess.”
His cheeks go red, emotion rising as he wipes his nose on his sleeve.
“Mike.” I use my training. First names. Make a connection. “If you turn yourself in, you can testify. Make a statement. Admit it all. That keeps Justin safe.”
“You would say that.” His arm is stiff and charged, but his finger isn’t on the trigger.
My stomach cramps tight and hard. Shit, baby, hang on. We’ll get out of this.
Thinking of her nearly brings me to tears, but I hold my nerve. I try my most empathetic tone. “If I go off that cliff, a lot points to your brother. If you want this over for Justin, and your niece and nephew, then confess. Then it’s over. It’s all about you. His life carries on…”
“You’re fucking lying!” His shout bellows around the dead walls of the quarry. “You’re a goddamn liar!” He pulls at his hair with his free hand, his face pinched and tense. He speaks almost as if responding to voices in his head. “I fucked up too big. He was right, I should have never come back.”
Never come back? Mariana Reyes…was that Mike’s first murder? Ingram closed that case. A cover-up? And then he sent his brother out of town to disappear?
Mike strides toward me, and my nerves light up, blood surging to my limbs.
“You,” he seethes. “You’re the reason…”
He yanks me so hard from the vehicle, I slip and lose my balance, crashing backward. Pain explodes through my pelvis, sharp and hot—but this is where I need to stay—on the ground.
He wants to throw me off that cliff?
I’m not making it easy.
He tugs at my arm with the hand not holding the gun, but I force my weight downward, making myself into a heavy, unwieldy problem he has to solve.
My palms are slick with sweat inside the flex cuffs; my breath is shaking out of me in broken bursts. Gravel grinds into my knees; cold earth bites through my slacks.
He shoves the gun into his pocket to use both hands on me.
I curl myself tight, cover my stomach, protect my baby girl. Every instinct screams to shield her from him, from the fall, from everything.
He threads his arms under mine, weaving through, and wrapping his hands across my chest. His grip crushes down on my lungs as he heaves hard.
“You stupid fat bitch,” he grunts.
He’s flush with my body—so close, his rancid breath stings my nose.
And close enough for me to fight back.
I thrust my head backward twice as quickly and as hard as I can. My skull slams into bone. Two sharp cracks.
He roars in agony.
Mike staggers backward, clutching his face. Blood spills through his fingers. I stay low, folded tight in case he comes back.
He sways, touches his nose for a millisecond but jerks his hand back fast. I broke it. He’s in pain. His vision is blurred.
Now is my chance to run.
I scramble to my feet, but I only make it five steps before his chilling shout ricochets off the quarry walls.
“Stop or I’ll shoot, you dumbass cunt!”
I freeze. Every muscle locks.
Slowly, I turn.
He’s already found the gun. It’s pointed right at me, steady despite the blood running down his face.
Blood splutters on his lips as he speaks. “Why fight when you know your fate?”
His words are nasal and choked as he eases himself backward until he hits an old tree stump. He collapses onto it, breath sawing, blood dripping through his fingers—but the gun never wavers from my chest.
“The others didn’t fight.”
A chill slices through me.
“Who?” I force out. “Zoe? Mariana?”
“All of them.”
Shock slides through my system. This man is a serial killer. How many lives has he taken?
“Justin told me I fucked it up big this time,” he slurs, the words slipping out crooked, his head still shot from the hit. “Said he tried to clean up my mess but couldn’t.”
A cold horror settles over me. He left town after Mariana, but came back for Zoe?
“Why did you kill them?” I push for more time. “They were innocent.”
“Innocent?” He spits blood onto the ground. “You think greed is innocent?”
He stands. The wobble in his stance is gone. His posture tightens. His eyes fix on me with terrible, final clarity.
There’s a chilling logic in his tone. “The first one wasn’t planned. I’m not some psychopath.”
That he doesn’t think he is shows how dangerous this situation really is. He’s delusional.
“I was in a bar a couple of towns over. One of those places where people tell you their whole life story because they know you’ll never see them again.
She talked about needing a down payment.
About wanting out of a controlling family—men that didn’t let her breathe.
She made herself sound alone. Like I was the only solution. ”
His features twist in disgust.
“I’d just come into a lot of money. More than I’d ever need. I offered help. I sent her ten grand.”
The quarry falls silent, even the wind is holding its breath.
“Then”—his eyes blast wide open as if it still surprises him to this day—“I found out about her boyfriend. She didn’t tell me about that, did she? Because she knew what she was doing. She knew I had to think she was alone in this world for me to help her. She manipulated me.”
The words leak out of his mouth like a curse.
“Her story wasn’t survival. That was a strategy.”
He steps closer, the gun loose in his hand. “If she were decent, she would’ve stopped herself. She wouldn’t have kept it. She would have sent it back.”
There’s no room for reality in his rules. He decided she deserved it. Deserved to be killed for taking his gift. A killer justifying his violence.
He takes another step closer, and my body seizes as he closes the distance.
“I asked to meet her at this very quarry to talk. And do you know what she had to say to me? All she said was thank you.” He shouts the words into the open air. “Thank you!”
His words ricochet across the quarry walls, echoing back until they return to his wet, bloody mouth as maniacal laughter.
He calms quickly, and his voice is flat again. “So I ended her.” His gaze bores into mine. “And do you know what surprised me?”
I’m too shocked to speak.
He smiles. “It felt right.”
He nods, lips pulled into a tight, determined line. “That’s when I understood what money really does. It doesn’t change people. It reveals them. Every woman since made the same choice. Took what was offered. Took more than they deserved. Took without shame.”
His gaze hardens. “Now aren’t you lucky I solved the case for you, Officer Johnson?”
His mind quickly drifts from the women he hated to the woman in front of him. “And you’re the one who had to fuck this all up.”
He pins me with a vehement stare and strides in my direction.
I drop back into the mushroom position, curling over my belly, knees wide for balance, hands bound but tucked in close. It worked once. It’ll work again.
“You think I’m falling for that twice?” he mutters, wiping his mouth, his blood dripping onto my shoulder.
He bends down, face angled away from my head, and hooks both arms under, this time pinning my bound wrists against my chest.
He hauls upward with everything he has left. His raw strength and adrenaline drag me across the gravel. I fight to stay low, to make myself heavy, but he grunts, shifts his grip, and hauls me closer and closer to the edge no matter how much I resist.
“Killing me won’t save your brother, Mike,” I gasp, the words scraping out of a throat that barely opens.
We scrape closer to the gaping hole in the earth as a chill rises from below. I dart my eyes behind. The cliff edge is but two steps away. The only thing between me and a hundred-foot fall is my captor.
He closes the distance, only one step now from the edge. Pebbles skitter under his boots, over the side and vanish into the drop.
“They’ll catch you,” I choke out, panic and tears ripping through every syllable. “Killing me doesn’t solve anything. I’m not the only one who knows everything—”
I dig in, but my boots slip; I claw at the ground with my heels. Tears blur the world.
“Justin won’t survive this if you kill me!” I shout, desperate, voice cracking under the terror clawing up my chest. “They’ll find out who you are!”
He stops for one eerie moment and leans close, his breath hot on my ear. “Why do I care if they come after me?” His words are calm in a way that freezes the blood in my veins. “They’ll be chasing a dead man.”
He shifts his grip so I’m in front of him now.
And he shoves.