Chapter 5
Five
Alex watched the forensic team move methodically through Charlotte’s Victorian home.
The quiet buzz of activity was a stark contrast to the stillness that had filled the house just hours earlier.
The scent of coffee lingered faintly under the lavender and vanilla, but none of it could mask the tension curling in his chest.
Brad Killian, highway patrol commander and Charlotte’s future son-in-law, stood near the front door flipping through his notepad. “You said nothing was taken?”
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Charlotte said from the living room, arms crossed, her voice steady but clipped.
Brad looked up. “Then what’s the endgame?”
Alex stepped forward. “Gideon Ward.”
Brad’s eyes snapped to him. “What?”
“It has to be about Ward,” Alex said. “The picture was from her interrogation room. Charlotte was the one who handled that case.”
Charlotte nodded, her arms tightening across her chest. “It’s from the night I arrested him. That’s not something just anyone could’ve gotten their hands on.”
Brad blinked once, then exhaled slowly, flipping to a blank page. “Ward’s still inside.”
“But is he pulling strings?” Alex’s tone was even, but his jaw was tight.
Brad hesitated. “No. Not that we’ve seen. Up until a year ago, he hadn’t had visitors in years. He communicated only through his lawyer.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You sound pretty sure.”
Brad nodded. “We had reason to check. Last year, the Waverly County DA requested a background review after his new public defender filed for compassionate release. The report said he’s dying. Liver failure. He’s still in that prison bed.”
Charlotte absorbed the information in silence, and Alex could see the calculation in her eyes. “If it’s not him,” she said, “someone else knows the case well enough to weaponize it.”
Brad rubbed a hand over his mouth, processing. “So, someone wants to stir up Ward’s past now, thirty years later. Why?”
Before anyone could answer, a forensic tech stepped into the room, holding up an evidence bag. “Found this under the mattress in the main bedroom.”
Brad took the bag and held it up. Alex squinted. Inside was a motel registration card, faded and yellowed with age.
Charlotte stepped forward slowly. She took the bag, her fingers brushing the plastic. “The Holloway Motel,” she said quietly. “That’s where we found him. Ward. He was living under the name Victor Graves. That’s where he kept his things.”
Brad didn’t speak at first. He didn’t need to. Everyone in the room could feel the shift.
Alex watched her carefully. She looked steady on the outside, but he knew her. He could see the tremor just beneath the surface.
Then Brad said quietly, “You have to tell Izzy. She wrote a dissertation on Gideon Ward.”
Charlotte’s head snapped up. “No.”
“You need to tell her. And the others,” Brad said, closing the distance. “If this is connected to Ward, if someone’s using this case to send a message, your daughters need to know.”
“They don’t need to be dragged into this,” she said, her voice rising slightly.
Alex stepped closer, not to crowd her but to stand with her. “Charlotte,” he said softly. “Brad’s right. If someone’s targeting you, it might not stop with you.”
Brad nodded. “And I want you to go to the doctor. Bloodwork. Make sure you weren’t drugged.”
She hesitated, and Alex saw it, that flicker of fear, quickly masked by her resolve. But she didn’t argue. The registration card in her hand opened the door that much further. The past wasn’t behind them anymore. It was already inside. Alex forced himself to breathe through the tension.
Brad didn’t flinch, didn’t argue. He just watched her. Waiting.
Alex knew that tactic well. Brad wasn’t the type to yell, wasn’t the type to push. He was the kind of man who let silence do the work for him. Charlotte hated silence.
"You have five daughters," Alex said, voice controlled but firm. "And if this is about you, then it’s about them too."
Charlotte clenched her jaw. "There’s no reason to think they’re in danger."
Brad sighed, waving the evidence bag with the registration card. "You don’t get to decide that. Not with this. Not with a man like him or his copycat."
Alex’s coffee rose in his throat. Him. Brad never uttered the names Victor Graves or Gideon Ward.
That told Alex everything he needed to know. He turned to Charlotte. "How much do the girls know about the case?"
Charlotte exhaled, pressing her fingers into the edge of the table.
"I don’t know. I never mentioned it to them.
If they know about the case, it’s because of the notoriety.
I never told them it was my arrest. Olivia was about four, Sophie was two, and I was pregnant with Molly. Izzy and Ruth weren’t even conceived.”
Alex went still.
"Not even Izzy?" Brad asked. “She’s a forensic psychologist. She studies serial killers.”
Charlotte didn’t answer.
Alex swore under his breath, “Damn it.”
Isobel had built her career around studying killers. Analyzing them. Understanding them. And Charlotte never told her about the case that clearly almost broke her.
Alex took a slow step toward her, but Charlotte wouldn’t look at him. "Let me help keep you safe," he said, voice low.
She exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Alex didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t let up. Because he couldn’t. She mattered too damn much.
Finally, she exhaled. "Fine. Call Izzy."
Alex felt his chest loosen just a fraction.
Brad nodded. "I’ll let her know I’m coming over. And, Charlotte?" She finally met his gaze. "You should be the one to tell the others. Before Izzy does.”
Charlotte stared at the registration card, her lips parting just slightly. Then she nodded.
Brad scooped up the evidence bag and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. Alex stayed where he was, watching her grip the chair like it was the only thing keeping her steady.
He stepped closer. "Hey.” He reached out, brushing his hand over her arm. "Tell the girls it was over thirty years ago."
She closed her eyes for just a second. "I hope so."