Chapter 23 Abi
ABI
“Got another one for you.”
It’s Deputy Munez on the end of the line, sounding put out. Fear knots up tight in my belly, though. “Another one?” I echo, staring at my computer screen. Like Olivia? I think, even though I know it’s impossible. That killer is dead.
“Yeah, another drunk tourist fucking around where he shouldn’t.”
Relief floods through me, but just for a second. It’s immediately replaced with another squeeze of—not fear, exactly. Anxiety, maybe.
Anticipation.
“What do you mean?” I push away from my computer and stare out at the examination room. “What happened?”
“Some college kid broke into Neptune’s Adventure—“
I freeze, hearing the name. I was just there yesterday.
It had been nice, with the sea wind keeping me and Rowan cool as we worked through the menagerie of fiberglass animals.
The only dark spot had been those two dickbags at the pirate ship, but that was a minor thing.
Mostly, I remember Rowan: sweet, caring, shy.
Fuck, what if Nameless saw us together?
“—mangled pretty bad, so I did want to give you a heads up. I should have the body to you by this afternoon.”
I blink, trying to catch up to the conversation. “That’s fine,” I say, working backwards through what he told me. An accident. The victim fell inside the pirate ship while it was running.
“Do they have an ID?” I ask, my heart hammering furiously. I’m terrified it’s Rowan. Terrified that Nameless saw me with him and went after him, a thought that makes me nauseated.
“Oh, yeah. The wallet wasn’t damaged. A college kid visiting from Dallas.”
I breathe out. Not Rowan, then.
“His friend reported him missing around three in the morning,” Deputy Munez continues. “Said they’d been out drinking and that the victim was pretty sloshed. Probably went wandering and wound up at the mini golf course. It wasn’t far from where they were staying.”
My head buzzes. Maybe it’s not Nameless. Maybe it really was just an accident—
But you could say the same about all his other kills, too.
The rest of the morning is a waste. I’m too anxious about the delivery to take care of the other bodies on my list, two elderly people who died in the local nursing home. I at least try to catch up on paperwork, but it’s hard to concentrate.
Part of it is that I’m still worried about Rowan. The death being at Neptune’s Adventure feels too pointed to be a coincidence. Now, I can’t shake the thought that Nameless will do something to Rowan out of—I don’t know, jealousy?
It seems a strange word to describe a killer. But it also fits.
To calm my jangling nerves, I send Rowan a quick message.
Hi, I had fun yesterday.
Which is true enough, but mostly I want him to respond, to know he’s okay.
At least he responds quickly.
Rowan
Me too! Glad I ran into you!
I stare down at the text, a thick darkness eating away at my chest. I like Rowan.
I do. We have identical tastes in movies, and I appreciate a guy who apparently cuts out of work to play mini golf.
I like his dark, curly hair and crooked smile and big, reassuring body.
I like the way he always seems nervous about looking me in the eye.
He’s the kind of awkward guy I would always get a crush on in college. And sure, I’ve gushed about him to Penelope and Chloe. But there’s a dark, bitter truth:
He’s not the one I want.
The one I want is a killer, and I think he may have killed again.
The body from Neptune’s Adventure arrives right when Deputy Munez told me it would, and I hang back as Hector wheels it into the examination room.
“Table or fridge?” he asks, hands still clutching the gurney.
“Table,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t come out shaky.
“Brace yourself.” He transfers the body over. “It’s fucked up. Good reminder not to go drinking and golfing.”
I give him a thin smile.
Hector arranges the body on the table for me. When he’s done, he steps back, and I see the damage for the first time.
The head is crushed. Mangled. It doesn’t even look like a human’s head at all, just a mess of meat and bone.
“Guess you got a strong stomach, huh?” Hector glances over at me. “Officer Whitehead puked when he saw it.”
“I don’t blame him.” I circle the body, heart fluttering. I’m not interested in the mangled head, though. I’m looking for the one thing that will prove this is Nameless’s work.
And that proves—what? He watches me during the day?
“You good?” Hector asks, dragging me out of my thoughts. “Ready to sign off?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” I scribble a line on his touch pad, give him a wave goodbye, and wait until I hear the clank of the garage door to approach the body.
I snap on my gloves. Grab the fabric scissors.
There’s an order to performing an autopsy, and technically, I do follow it.
I cut the clothes away, my eyes scanning the pale, mottled flesh.
There’s nothing to indicate a struggle, not really.
Some rope burn around one ankle, but the report Munez sent over said the victim had been found with one of the ropes from the sails tangled around his foot.
I can see the story as they would: a frat boy stayed out late drinking, broke into Neptune’s Adventure to cause some mischief, got himself tangled up, tripped, and fell in.
We’ve seen other things like this in Rosado.
And how many of those were because of Nameless?
I run my hands over the body’s leg, lifting it to look under the calf. Work my way up to the hips, the belly. Nothing. No suspicious marks.
The further up I go, the more my heart pounds. Maybe this really was an accident. Maybe Nameless only watches me at night, under the cover of shadows. Maybe Rowan is safe.
God, I hope he’s safe. He doesn’t deserve to die just because I like him. He hasn’t even touched me.
I examine the hands. The wrists. The arms. Still nothing. I tell myself what I’m feeling is relief, not disappointment. Only a monster would be disappointed that an accident is an accident and not a murder.
But then I get to the shoulder.
Only one hasn’t been damaged. The other was crushed by the same mechanisms that crushed the head, and it’s nothing more than meat and bone. But the other is smooth and unblemished.
Except for a single, simple mark. So small, so faint, that it almost looked like nothing.
Except I know it’s not nothing. It’s a K.
I stare at it for a long time, my head buzzing. Then, moving slowly and methodically, I peel off my gloves and pick up my phone.
I snap a single picture.
“K,” I whisper, drawing up to other letters in my head. YOURDAR.
YOUR DARK
The camera slips out of my fingers and clatters across the tile. “Your dark,” I murmur, and I think of Nameless brushing his gloved hand against my face. It’s a conversation.
I leave the phone and the body and step into my office. I haven’t looked at the map closely in a while. Not since Olivia died.
Not since Nameless came into my life as a living, breathing person, and not a killer I’m trying to catch.
With a shaking hand, I write out a K on one of my little paper flags. Then I find Neptune’s Adventure on the map and slide the pin into place with a red pin.
It feels empty, doing this.
“Your dark,” I say again, feeling numb. “Your darkness.”
But it’s a conversation, he said. He’s speaking to me.
And I wonder, with a sharp, shuddery thrill, how long he’s seen the darkness hiding inside me.