Chapter 32
Jacob Walsh
The winter wind sliced through two layers of clothing. Yet after enduring the frigid grip of Alaska for months, the cold in D.C. was practically insignificant. It was merely an inconsequential discomfort, easily ignored amidst his current objective.
Jacob's injured leg throbbed with muted persistence as he shifted his weight against a concrete pillar inside the open parking lot. The dull pain radiated upward from his ankle to his hip, a constant reminder that everything he’d thought before Alaska had been inaccurate.
He had his sister to thank for his newfound acceptance.
He’d gone through life believing that he couldn’t exist without her. That his role was to open her eyes to the truth—they were one and the same. But she had exposed her true self during their time together last year.
The departure of a male subject wearing a suit and a long, black coat, with a matching scarf and gloves, drew Jacob’s attention.
He’d been monitoring the front entrance of his sister’s condominium building for the past sixteen minutes, enough time to observe the morning routine but not long enough to arouse suspicion.
A camera blind zone at the back of the parking lot was just enough for him to go unseen.
He would have to take a back alley from his location to reach his destination, even though it was logistically unnecessary compared to the shorter route.
He had fortunately come into possession of some pain medication recently, but he would only use the pills when absolutely necessary.
His reflection in a parked car’s window caught his attention when he turned slightly to escape a gust of wind.
A stranger stared back at him. The beard he'd been growing had transformed into a thick, unkempt mess that obscured the lower half of his face.
His mustache connected seamlessly to the beard, creating a shield of hair that hid the distinctive shape of his jawline.
Wide, wraparound sunglasses covered his eyes despite the overcast sky, and the hood of his winter jacket was pulled forward to cast shadows on what little skin remained visible. He could easily defeat any facial recognition software that was combing the city’s streets.
When the moment came, he would make himself presentable.
In the meantime, he would utilize every advantage possible to gain the upper hand.
The doorman, a thin man in his sixties with a slight limp, opened the glass door once more for an elderly woman bundled in a fur coat. She nodded appreciatively before shuffling onto the sidewalk. The doorman scanned the street briefly before returning to the warmth inside.
If the man Jacob was searching for didn’t exit the building in two minutes, the past three weeks of surveillance would have been naught.
The blare of a horn had Jacob taking in more of his surroundings. This morning's foot traffic had increased, professionals hurrying to their offices, coffees clutched in gloved hands, faces tucked into scarves against the biting wind. His stillness made him all but invisible to the hurried masses.
He was confident that his visit to their childhood home had reached Brook. The FBI had officially ended its search for him, yet she was intelligent enough not to accept that conclusion. A little breadcrumb of doubt would keep her on edge.
The glass door opened once again.
Jacob slowly smiled, pleased that the tenant’s schedule was intact. It was now only a matter of time before the fun began.
Brook had convinced him that every face he'd carved, every life he'd ended, hadn’t just been random victims or symbols of perfection he needed to destroy.
They had merely been surrogates.
He would soon reveal the true face of Brooklyn Walsh, and the final result of her gouged flesh would be an absolute masterpiece.
“You forgot, dear sister,” Jacob whispered, his gaze lifting to the southeast corner of the building. “You forgot that you don't get to be the normal one.”
~ The End ~
Prepare for long-buried secrets to claw their way into the light in the latest Touch of Evil installment by USA Today Bestselling Author Kennedy Layne…
Click HERE
A quiet Indiana town is shaken to its core when a landscaping crew clearing the overgrown Ellingham estate uncovers human remains scattered in pots and garden beds throughout a crumbling greenhouse.
Reclusive Gwenyth Ellingham has lived alone on the property for years, socially withdrawn, prone to strange episodes, and unable to manage her affairs.
When her aging uncle petitions for guardianship to settle years of unpaid taxes and clear the land for sale, the ground finally gives up its secrets.
Forensics discover eight sets of bones. Seven belong to young women who vanished nearly thirty years ago. The eighth, buried deeper, belongs to Gwenyth’s father, botanist Nestor Ellingham, who disappeared during the same period.
FBI consultant Brooklyn Sloane and her team take over the cold case, revealing an unsettling pattern.
The killer had complete access to the property, moved through the grounds with familiarity, and used the greenhouse as a personal graveyard.
But Nestor’s presence among the victims raises a terrifying question.
Was he the predator who got what he deserved, or was he killed because he discovered the horrifying truth hidden in his own soil?
The Ellingham family’s past is filled with conflicting stories, fractured relationships, and a daughter whose memories are clouded by trauma or mental illness.
Brook and her team must determine whether the monster who created this graveyard is long dead…
or still lurking in the shadows of a place where fear took root decades ago.