Chapter 10 #2
“I know you’re on leave, and the brass is up my ass,” he added. “But as long as no one breathes a word to our boss, we do this our way. We’ve got two dead bodies with fingers missing in a matter of days. You know this case as well as I do, and I can’t be in more than one place at the same time.”
Chloe’s nod was small, but it was a yes.
Hayes glanced out over the dark water, the soft lap of tide barely audible over the muted hum of police radios and camera shutters. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted once, low and hollow.
The swamp didn’t care that someone had died here.
But he did—and so did Chloe.
“We need a list of everyone who’s had access to this land since Keaton moved,” Chloe said, her mind already spinning. “Anyone who’s been out here in the last month. Surveyors, developers, squatters, whoever.”
“That’s easy,” Hayes said. “It’s a short list, and I can compile it for you.” Hayes turned back to the water. He didn’t say it aloud, but he didn’t need to.
Someone had brought a body back here like it was nothing.
Someone wanted them to see it—and someone had just changed the game.
Hayes moved a few steps away from the shoreline, needing space from the body and the cold detachment in Chloe’s voice. She had to compartmentalize—he knew that—but damn if it didn’t leave him wanting to pull her out of this whole thing and make her breathe for five minutes.
He barely had time to shake that thought before he heard the voice that always managed to crawl under his skin.
“Well, if it isn’t Special Agent Chloe Frasier’s shadow,” she said, stepping just inside the barrier with a smug smile and zero shame.
Hayes slowly faced her, folding his arms. “You’re not cleared to be in here.”
Stacey flashed a laminated press badge like it meant something. “Relax, Hayes. I’m not here to contaminate the scene.”
He arched a brow. “Then what are you doing?”
“Following a lead. Trying to confirm if the Bureau is finally admitting this is the work of a serial killer.” She looked around casually, eyes flicking toward Buddy and Chloe, who stood a few yards away. “Given the presence of not one, but two FBI agents, I’d say my instincts were spot-on.”
“Funny, I don’t remember you having instincts,” Hayes muttered.
Stacey smiled wider, all teeth. “Still bitter, huh?”
He stepped in a little closer, just enough to lower his voice. “You ran with a false lead and got yourself blacklisted from a major outlet. You’re lucky you’re still reporting from anywhere other than the classifieds.”
She didn’t flinch. “And yet, here I am—still digging, still standing.”
“Yeah, well try not to trip over a boundary marker on your way back to the marina’s parking lot.”
She leaned in, eyes narrowing. “You think feeding me bad intel was a win, Hayes? Because from where I’m standing, it just made me smarter. I don’t fall for charm anymore.”
“You never fell for charm. Just headlines.”
A tense silence stretched between them until she gave a little shrug. “I know something’s happening here. And if you think I’m going to stand down, think again. Someone’s handing me information—someone who knows things only an insider would.”
That stopped him cold.
“Who?” he asked.
She smirked, spun on her heel, and walked away.
Hayes watched her go, jaw tight. That wasn’t a bluff. Not the way she’d said it.
Someone was talking to her.
Behind him, the leaves rustled as Chloe approached. She said nothing at first, but he could feel her looking at him—waiting.
“She knows things she shouldn’t,” he said.
“She’s got to be bluffing.”
“She’s not,” Hayes said. “And if someone on the inside is giving her details we haven’t even discussed publicly...”
Chloe exhaled slowly, her gaze flicking back toward the crime scene, before turning and facing him dead on. “But who? Our circle is tight. I trust Buddy, and while you and I might have a weird dynamic, I trust you and your team. No one else really knows our theories.”
“Someone’s feeding her tips, and that woman is ruthless.” He closed his eyes and counted to ten before blinking them open. “She was willing to sleep with me for a story.” He cocked his head.
“ Ew . Gross. You actually did the deed with that woman?”
“I said she was willing to. I didn’t say we did.” He traced Chloe’s jawline. “I’ve never been so grateful to have grown a conscience.”
She’d never been the jealousy type. But a shot of adrenaline kicked through her system and the mere thought of those two. She pushed it right out of her mind. “Me, too.”
“Agent Frasier—you’re going to want to see this,” Remy yelled, standing near a gnarled cypress that jutted out over the murky water a few feet beyond the body. Too close to be a coincidence.
Hayes followed Chloe and Dawson as they picked their way through the reeds and knee-high sawgrass, Remy stepping back to let them see what he’d found.
Sitting at the base of the tree, half-tucked into a hollow where the roots twisted into the waterline, was a white jewelry box. The kind you’d get from a department store. No markings. Just a pale satin ribbon tied in a bow.
No mud on it. No splash damage. Clean. Intentional.
Hayes felt a chill crawl down the back of his neck.
Remy had already snapped photos. “I didn’t touch it,” he said. “Didn’t want to so much as breathe on it until you saw it.”
Chloe crouched low, her gloved fingers hovering an inch from the box.
“No tag,” she muttered. “No fingerprints visible. No signs of being dropped. This was placed.”
“Any chance it drifted in from the Glades?” Dawson asked, though he sounded unconvinced.
Chloe shook her head. “Not a chance. Not the way it’s settled. This was positioned. Presented.”
Hayes stepped closer, peering over her shoulder as she lifted the lid carefully.
Inside, nestled against white velvet, was a single gold ring—a man’s wedding band. Scratched, a little tarnished, and engraved on the inside.
Chloe held it up to the light. Her voice was barely above a whisper, “It says To L.R.—Forever.”
Hayes stared at it, a sick twist tightening in his gut. “He’s leaving us breadcrumbs.”
Chloe nodded once, solemn. “He’s not hiding anymore.”
Buddy appeared behind them just in time to hear it. He didn’t ask questions. Just looked at the box and the ring, and then at Chloe. “We need to figure out who L.R. is. Fast.”
Hayes didn’t say it out loud, but the thought was already spinning in his head. This wasn’t just a trophy. It was a promise. A reminder that the killer was still out there. Still watching.
And now—he was playing for keeps.
It was pushing two in the morning by the time Hayes and Chloe returned to his place. He’d thought he was tired earlier, but now the exhaustion sat deep—like it had settled in his bones and planned to stay.
He sank onto the mattress and pulled her close, kissing her temple. Guilt plagued his heart for how he’d pushed her away earlier. She hadn’t deserved that. It hadn’t been about her, and now that another body had been discovered, she needed his support. His affection. Maybe even his love.
Love. Did he even know what that was?
That emotion had always come with conditions.
In the faith he’d grown up in, he’d been taught that God loved him, but he had to prove his love of God worthy.
His parents loved him, but it wasn’t as if he truly felt their unwavering love.
It was always him having to give something to get it.
Even now, that love between him and his folks was strained, even unnatural, simply because he wasn’t the son God wanted him to be.
It didn’t matter that things were better, that the lines of communication had been opened.
There was a vast divide between him and his parents, and he didn’t know how to close it.
Hayes remained lost in thought for a moment, analyzing the weight of his deeds, the resonance of his emotions. His mind threw images at him—images of a past he had so fiercely resisted and a future that gnawed at the edges of impossibility.
He’d believed with all that he was that he’d loved Adaline. She’d been his first kiss, and he’d thought she’d be his first and only everything. Back then, while he hadn’t believed in the church—or even God—he’d still wanted to believe in love.
He’d tried with Tiana, but to her, love had meant marriage and babies.
He hadn’t been unwilling to have that kind of future, but he also hadn’t been ready.
His past had still been too close and raw to allow him to completely open his heart to a woman, especially one who’d constantly said things like, If you love me, you’ll marry me .
Another condition.
Betsy had been different. The only complication had been Fedora. She had been both the reason he’d stayed—and left. However, he hadn’t cared—or loved—Betsy enough to be the kind of man they both needed.
All these things had tainted him. Changed him. But Chloe brought him into the present, and now he saw something different. Something he’d never seen before, and he wasn’t sure where to file those thoughts and feelings. He wasn’t even sure they were real.
Only, they were like nothing he’d ever experienced.
With a sigh, he pushed those thoughts aside, burdened by an intensity that seemed to break down the last barriers of his resistance. He pulled Chloe closer, and her eyes widened in surprise before softening into an inviting pool of warmth and desire.
Her fingers crept up along his chest to his neck, sending shivers down his spine.
An electric current surged between them, and he felt the intoxicating pull.
Faint whispers of yearning traced their way across her lips as her breath fell hot and heavy against his ear, whispering things words could hardly encapsulate.
His lips found hers in a passionate surrender made up of breaths stolen away in a dance as old as time itself. He wanted her and not just in this moment. That scared him.
His fingers traced her curves as if they were drafting poetry onto her skin—a sonnet dedicated to their shared longing.