Chapter 31
Gracyn
T he worst monsters are the ones that go after your heart.
After what matters most to you.
Until your heart is blind to their evil.
That’s when they strike.
My mom’s words surface. A hard lesson I learned in high school. My best friend, Jack, whom I loved like a brother, had been in my life ten years before he was arrested for raping and killing a teacher. I couldn’t believe it. He was my sweet, soft-talking Jack. Someone I didn’t think could hurt a fly. At first, I was more confused than angry. I still have a hard time accepting that underneath his faux sweet exterior lived a horrible human being. It was my mom’s only explanation. And an enormous eye-opening experience. You really don’t know someone.
And now, Judith.
Betrayal always cuts deeper when it comes from someone you trust. It leaves a sharp wound in its wake. And for Brooks, it’s not just the betrayal, it’s everything. It’s the crushing weight of failure bearing down on him, the relentless ache of his bleeding heart now fueled by a firestone of rage. Anyone who crosses in his path is bound to feel its searing heat.
But everyone takes it.
Nobody knows the hell he’s in, but they can see the torture in his eyes.
The morning erupted with chaos. New information. New suspect. Addison and I sit side by side on the couch, listening. Around us, the room buzzes with activity, five phone calls happening simultaneously, where we catch snippets of each conversation.
“She got spooked and ran when Brooks started questioning a man she was with,” someone says.
“We got her leaving the building at 11:15. After she talked to Brooks, she ran,” comes another voice.
My brows furrow. “That’s not right,” I whisper to myself.
“What was that?” Addison asks, glancing over.
I shake my head, a nagging doubt swirling in my mind. Something doesn’t add up. Goose bumps prick up and down my arm when an unsettling thought pops into my head. I swallow hard, hesitating, knowing I’m wading into territory I have no business being in, especially with a room of official law enforcement.
“I think she has Brooks’s room tapped,” I whisper.
Her head tilts in confusion, and I second-guess myself. Did I use the wrong term?
“Or bugged?”
She lets out a soft chuckle. “No, I know what you mean. But, why do you think that?”
“Judith left at 11:15. That’s before Brooks called her.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I remember looking when he called because he mentioned it was late. It was 11:23 p.m.. It doesn’t make sense. She was here all day, so what happened at that exact moment to make her run? It’s when we were talking about her mom. When she answered, she sounded out of breath. Brooks asked her about it, and she said she just got off the treadmill.”
Addison twists her lips with a hum, then jerks her head toward Brooks’s room, gesturing for me to go there. I nod and wait for her to get up first before following her in. As soon as she shuts the door, cutting off the noise from the others, she holds up a finger to her lips. She pulls out a blue pair of gloves from her bag, puts them on, and begins touching surfaces around the room.
I watch her closely, anticipation building that her fingers will connect with something foreign. Every time she pauses, my heart stops. But then she keeps going with a head shake. She moves swiftly through the room, and when she’s made it completely around, I twist my lips in defeat.
Well, it was worth a try.
“I would’ve sworn?—”
I stop mid-sentence when she holds her finger to her lips again. She spins in place, staring at the walls. She walks over to a wall socket, bends down, and runs her finger around the small white rectangle.
“Screwdriver,” she mouths.
We both jump when the door swings open. “What are you two doing?” Aiden asks, looking at Addison crouching on the floor, to me, stiff and rigid, as if I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing.
Addison stands up, yanking off her gloves and tossing them back into her bag. She growls in frustration. “Do you have equipment to sweep the room?” she asks, giving up trying to be quiet. I mean, what’s the point now?
Judith will still be a monster.
He nods and walks out without any questions. Considering she investigates crime scenes every day, I wouldn’t question her either.
A half hour later, we’re all staring at three devices on the kitchen table that were hardwired into various wall sockets throughout the penthouse.
“She knew everything about our life. When she wasn’t here, she was listening.” Brooks pounds his fist on the table, and everyone watches in silence. There’s nothing anyone can say to help him not feel violated. “Why the hell was she spying on me?”
One of the police officers that’s processing Judith’s place walks in. She’s holding a bottle of something in her hand.
“We found this in her trash. Has anyone been sick lately?” she asks.
“Yes. Why?” Brooks grinds out.
Her lips press together as she drops the bottle in an evidence bag. Max looks at Addison with an uneasy expression, and she nods. Brooks doesn’t miss it either.
“What’s going on? What is that?”
Addison hesitates, her expression pained. “Ipecac syrup,” she finally says. “It’s used to induce vomiting. It could mimic symptoms of a stomach bug.”
“She poisoned us!” he roars.
Oh my god. This keeps getting worse. She made them sick? Deliberately? For what? To keep Brooks away from me? Did jealousy really drive her to this twisted extreme?
Oh, Brooks. My mind reels as I steal a glance at him. His face is a mask of cold fury, his jaw clenched tight as he stares blankly off. His hands ball at his sides, his knuckles bone white. He looks like he’s barely holding it together, and I’m afraid he might break at any moment.
I think about walking over to him, but something inside tells me not to. Instead, I tuck my legs up underneath me in the chair, watching him with a mix of guilt and worry.
Stone’s voice slices through the suffocating silence. “Okay, here’s what I’ve found so far,” he announces. All eyes snap to him as his fingers pound on the keyboard, his screen flashing with different windows, navigating through them as if he’s in a maze.
Brooks stomps over, his fury radiating like a heatwave.
“Her real name is Sawyer Judith Jackson.”
Stone glances up at Brooks, and he nods once, confirming this isn’t new information. “She told me her dad’s middle name was Sawyer, and she always thought it sounded masculine, so she went by Judith,” Brooks says in a matter-of-fact tone.
Stone switches to another screen. “She was born in 1984 to a Janie Jackson in Circleville, Ohio. Her dad and twin sister, Sydney, died in 1989.” Stone again looks over his shoulder. “Did you know she had a twin?”
“No,” Brooks hammers out. “But I ran a background check on her, and everything checked out.”
“It wouldn’t have uncovered anything. She’s clean. You did your due diligence, Brooks.”
“A lot of good that did,” he mutters under his breath.
I catch Aiden shift his gaze Addison’s way, his expression tight as he shakes his head ever so slightly. He knows more, and it’s not good. I quickly glance at Brooks, afraid whatever is next might be what pulls him over the edge.
Aiden clears his throat. “When I was undercover with Travis, I ran across Willie Jackson’s name. He worked for Travis. Janie Jackson was his wife,” he explains. The room stills, and Addison curses under her breath. “Judith’s twin sister and dad were found dead from gunshot wounds in a vehicle during the time of the bloodbath between Knight and Travis back in the late eighties. There were rumors of each side’s fault, but the fighting stopped right after. Officially, it’s a cold case.”
I gasp, covering my mouth in horror. A little girl died at the hands of our fathers. My heart pounds, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. When Brooks looks at me, his hazel eyes fill with ice. Regret. And utter hatred.
Toward me.
Specifically, toward me .