Chapter 28
The boat was still rocking when they reached it. It was empty and tied off sloppily, as though abandoned in a hurry.
Leland stepped onto the deck before it had fully settled, one hand bracing against the rail as his eyes swept the space in a single, ruthless pass.
Nothing. No sign of her. No sign of struggle. Just the faint scent of fuel, river water, and a trace of chemicals, as if he’d wiped everything down.
“Greta’s phone?” Dev asked from behind him.
Callan voice came through their comms. “The signal’s there. It hasn’t moved since the boat stopped.”
Leland moved deeper into the vessel, scanning methodically, forcing himself to see it through the eyes of the man they were hunting. Not what was missing. What had been used.
“He never intended to keep her here,” Leland said. “He moved her.”
“He’s not impulsive,” Rhys added quietly. “He had contingencies in place.”
“Or preparations,” Alec said, the implication hitting hard.
Leland wasn’t standing still for speculation. “Where does he go from here?” he demanded, already moving off the boat.
Boots pounded over wet wood, gravel, and then pavement as they hurried to their vehicles.
“I’m pulling everything on Strickland.” Callan advised. “Financials, properties, shell accounts—”
“Known associates,” Dev added. “Anywhere he could stash her. Anywhere he’d feel secure.”
“Not secure,” Rhys corrected. “In control.”
Leland didn’t answer because the distinction didn’t matter. Only one thing did. Julia.
“Phones,” Alec said. “He’s not stupid enough to carry his own.”
“No,” Callan agreed. “But he’ll have something—a burner, a relay, signal bounce. I’ll find it.”
Leland reached the SUV first and yanked the door open. The others were seconds behind him.
Engines turned over and idled, ready to move at Callan’s direction.
“Give me something,” Leland snapped.
“Dev settled into the passenger seat beside him. “Breathe. We’ll move the second we have a lead.”
“Got it.” Callan’s voice came again, tight with focus. “Strickland owns three properties in his name. Two condos, one office. All clean.”
“Fronts,” Alec muttered.
“Checking shell holdings now.”
“Storage units,” Dev said. “Marinas. Anything water-adjacent.”
“Already pulling it.”
Leland gripped the wheel harder. His mind wasn’t on the list. It kept returning to the dock.
To the way she’d looked over her shoulder. To the way he’d let her go. Beyond his reach just for a few minutes.
Because it was Devil’s Pointe, he’d convinced himself it was safe. They all had.
His jaw flexed. He should have stayed with her. Should have walked down with her. Should have—
He shut that thought down hard. It was useless. Every second he spent there was a second wasted. A second, she might not have.
Callan’s voice snapped sharper. “Got something.”
Silent anticipation filled the SUV only briefly before Leland demanded, “Give it to me.”
“I found a lease,” Callan said. “Not in Strickland’s name. It’s held by a shell corporation tied to one of his old associates. Same LLC that paid his offshore storage fees last year.”
“What’s the lease for?” Alec asked.
“A boathouse.”
“That’s it,” Dev said, confident. “Location?”
“Industrial inlet on the south side. Water access. Fifteen minutes from where the boat was ditched.”
“Pull it up,” Leland said.
A map flashed onto the console, route plotted.
He didn’t wait. Didn’t ask. Gravel sprayed under the tires as he pulled out. The other vehicles falling in behind him, moving with one purpose.
Leland drove fast. The road blurred beneath them, lights streaking past as the city opened up ahead. But no one told him to slow down.
“Everyone converges,” Dev said. “We do not go in blind.”
Leland didn’t answer. Because blind or not, he was going in.
Beneath the adrenaline and narrowed focus driving him forward, the urgency, other thoughts forced their way in. Julia in his kitchen laughing. Arguing. Standing in his shower with her arms wrapped around him like he was worth fighting for.
He swallowed hard, grip tightening painfully on the wheel. He’d had the time, the chance, and said nothing when it mattered.
His gaze locked on the road ahead, unblinking.
“Hold on,” he muttered under his breath.
Whether it was for her or for himself, he didn’t know.
But he wasn’t too late. He refused to be too late. Not again. Not this time.
***
Consciousness returned slowly. Sound came first. Water moving rhythmically nearby, not rolling waves, smaller and more contained.
Julia opened her eyes, squinting into the dim light. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes, and for several long moments, she stayed perfectly still, listening.
No voices or movement. Only the faint creak of wood settling and the soft lap of water beneath her.
Memory followed right behind it. The dock. Cari. A splash. Someone behind her—
Her pulse kicked hard as she pushed herself upright. The room tilted briefly before steadying, and she became aware of the restraint circling her ankle.
Un-lined, rigid leather, secured with a lock. A chain ran from the cuff to a steel ring bolted low into the wall beside the bed.
Her stomach tightened. What had felt impossible only hours ago had happened, no matter the safeguards Leland, Dev, and the others had put into place.
The room came into focus slowly. A narrow bed beneath her. A chair angled toward it with deliberate precision. A shaft of moonlight coming in through a single, small window.
Her gaze landed on the anchor points in the bedframe itself, shifting to a polished metal tray resting on a side table. Everything appeared meticulously organized. No… deliberate. This wasn’t the first time he’d brought one of his victims here. Maybe all of them.
The air left her lungs slowly, suspicions confirmed when she saw the photographs.
Women close to her age stared at her from small black frames arranged on a table against the far wall.
Different smiles. All blonde but one. Some photos looked posed, others candid, as if pulled from social media.
Beneath each picture, he’d propped a personal item: a silver bracelet, a silk scarf, earrings.
In front of the last frame, empty as yet, rested a lock of blonde hair the exact shade of her own, tied neatly with a ribbon.
Julia’s stomach turned. This wasn’t fantasy to him. It was a ritual.
She yanked hard on the chain. It was both desperate and futile.
Footsteps sounded, moving closer, and the muted creak of wood. Every nerve in her body tensed as the door swung inward.
His gaze found her immediately. “You’re awake. Excellent. I was afraid I’d given you too much.”
Recognition hit hard enough to steal her breath. This was no stranger, or some faceless monster pulled from her nightmares. She knew him. Maybe not well but enough.
Quiet, controlled, easy to overlook in a way dangerous men sometimes were, Evan Strickland had always blended easily into the club.
Julia held his gaze, refusing to let him see fear if she could help it.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, as though he appreciated the effort.
“Is this where you bring all your victims?” she asked, no hesitation. No wasted breath.
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes hardened. “You’re starting with hard questions.”
“Answer it.”
He moved farther into the room instead, slow and deliberate. “That implies you already know what happened to them.”
“I know enough.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “Perhaps,” he said at length. “About some of them.”
Her stomach twisted hard. Some. God. How many were still out there?
Julia forced herself to keep breathing evenly. “Why are you doing this?”
He tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was a variable he’d never expected. “You really want to understand?”
“Yes.”
“No,” he corrected softly. “You want to humanize me. You think if you can make sense of it, you can manipulate me.”
“You sound like every crime cliché ever written.”
His smile returned. Humorless, this time. “Maybe,” he said. “But clichés usually exist for a reason.”
Julia’s fingers curled against the blanket.
“You had willing submission,” she said. “At the club. Women who wanted what you wanted. That wasn’t enough for you?”
Cold moved across his face. She continued to challenge him anyway.
“You had to take away their choice. That’s not dominance. It’s pathology.”
A long silence followed. Then he laughed softly under his breath. “Now you’re trying very hard to make me angry.”
“Maybe.”
“What’s your goal?” he asked mildly. “To trip me up? To distract me?” He stepped closer. “Or do you think if I lose control, I’ll end this quickly?”
Julia said nothing.
His gaze lingered on her face. “You’re wrong,” he said. No emotion in it. Just certainty. “As you pointed out, this isn’t my first time.”
A chill slid down her spine despite herself.
The smile that followed told her he enjoyed it. Before he could say anything else, a muted tone sounded somewhere deeper in the house.
His attention snapped toward the hallway.
Julia saw the shift instantly. He went still, listening, and frowned.
“That shouldn’t be possible.”
He crossed the room quickly and disappeared into the hall. She heard a metallic click, followed by the rapid tapping of keys.
When he came into the room this time, his calm veneer had slipped a little. His expression remained composed, but the smoothness was gone.
“We’re leaving.”
Julia’s heart slammed once against her ribs. She kept her voice steady. “Why? Unexpected company?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. She’d guessed right.
They were closing in.
He crossed to the bed, unlocking the restraint at her ankle before reaching for her wrist.
Gone was the patient predator who had taken his time circling her. Now, urgency broke through and the inescapable passing of time. Somewhere out there, Leland was coming.