Chapter Six Grayson
Chapter Six
Grayson
I didn’t follow her home. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit—at least to myself—that she intrigued me enough to want to go after her.
To know more about her.
Back at my motel room, I didn’t bother turning on any lights. The darkness helped keep my head clear, helped me think. It helped me wade through the whispers and echoes of the dead better than sifting through crime scene photos ever could.
I wasn’t tired. I hardly slept anymore. My nights were about unraveling the puzzle pieces monsters didn’t even know they were leaving behind. It was my job to catch their mistakes.
I poured myself a shot of whiskey and leaned against the windowsill, watching the way the wind lightly rustled the leaves on the trees. I couldn’t see it, but the lake was only a few miles away. I could still feel its pull.
That place hummed with the violence of something old and dangerous.
I’d been surprised to see Violet there, as if she’d been searching for her own answers. I wonder what she was hiding, what she tried to keep buried. I’d looked into her face and knew she saw the blood in the soil, even though it had all been wiped clean.
I finished the booze and set the glass down, dragging my fingers through my hair. I hadn’t intended to feel any sort of interest in the waitress. I didn’t know her, but when I looked into her eyes, I saw she had scars that ran deep.
There was something about the way she looked at me—like the monster had already taken everything from her, and although she feared it still hadn’t finished feeding, she wasn’t surrendering yet.
And hell, I respected that about her.
This town was crumbling under something dark and sinister, and its people were too stupid to understand the implications, or too comfortable in their bubble to see the danger.
But I felt its crushing presence. I felt it clawing its way out of its grave. The past was being resurrected. The darkest memories wanted to be remembered.
The cult symbol. The staging of the bodies. The ritualistic bleeding.
Evil was here.
And my instincts told me Violet felt it, too. She knew more than she let on.
Whatever she was hiding, there were cracks in her wall. She wanted the truth, even if it scared the shit out of her. I’d find it, not just to save this town and any more victims, but Violet, too.
Tomorrow, I’d visit her again. Professionally, of course.
Keep telling yourself that.
I gritted my teeth, hating any slip of my control.
I was here to do a job. This had nothing to do with the fact she was the first person to interest me personally . . . in any capacity.
If I were a weaker man, that might have concerned me.