Chapter Twenty-Six
Black Hollow PD had misidentified the body.
Adrial had torn through the official investigation file before running for his vehicle, looking for any signs one of the many detectives—including him—had been blinded by their bias over the years.
It wasn’t hard to imagine Arthur Hutton had known exactly who’d been recovered from Hollow Lake, seeing as how the son of a bitch had most likely put her there in the first place, but original investigators had identified the remains as Lila Mercer.
Had it been intentional, a process of elimination, or had the chief of police been the one to make the determination?
Detectives had no reason to believe that assessment had been wrong, but it changed everything now.
If the body wasn’t who they believed, who was it?
And where had Lila Mercer been all this time?
Adrial gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles felt as though they were going to break through the skin along the backs of his hands.
Well, he certainly had cause for exhumation now.
He’d handed the file to Ruby with orders to put together everything she could on the victim, but just with her offhand examination, a judge had no reason not to grant the exhumation order and give the forensic anthropologist a chance to identify the victim.
The picturesque homes, tree-lined streets and naked snowmen standing guard in front yards blurred through the windows as he fishtailed onto Winnie’s street.
The SUV tilted to one side but managed to stay connected to the road.
Hell, even if he’d rolled, Adrial would find a way to get to her.
This—all of this—was connected back to Arthur Hutton’s sins, but Winnie would be the one to pay for them.
There was still so much to unravel between them, but he wouldn’t slow down until he had Winnie in his sights.
She could be angry with him. She could hate him and tell him she never wanted to see him again, but she’d be alive. He’d make sure of it.
Baxter grabbed for the handlebar above his head, bracing himself but not saying a word.
His friend knew all about this feeling bubbling up inside Adrial’s chest and squeezing his heart with every breath.
The numbness Adrial had slid into over the past two years was gone.
Only panicked fury remained, and it wouldn’t budge unless he had Winnie in his arms. The SUV righted itself a split second before Adrial slammed on the brakes in front of the ugly kelly green house with redbrick.
Burning rubber infiltrated his senses as Adrial grabbed for the handgun in the center console. “You armed?”
“That’s a dumb question.” Baxter didn’t wait for orders and shoved free of the vehicle.
They’d worked together long enough they each fell into step as they rounded the hood of the SUV and checked their weapons.
His best friend would go around the back while Adrial went through the front.
They’d meet in the center of the house and clear it together.
“It’s a sliding glass door. She still wants to sell the place, so try not to break too much.
” Adrial holstered his weapon opposite where he normally kept it thanks to the damn sling strapping his injured arm to his chest. He’d trained to compensate for situations like this, but the difference might cost him a second or two. He just hoped it didn’t come to that.
Baxter tucked his pistol into the shoulder holster beneath his jacket. “What if there’s a broomstick in the track?”
“I’ll pay for any damage. Get moving.” Because staying still was starting to eat at him.
There was a chance Winnie was inside, safe, sound and asleep since he’d left her, and, hell, he’d give anything to have her throw him out on his ass again, but this tightness—his instincts—were telling a different story.
“See you on the other side.” The forensic investigator offered his knuckles, and Adrial met them with his own. It’d become a ritual between them on cases like this, a reminder they had each other’s backs, and infused Adrial with a shot of determination to see this through.
The willow out front wasn’t doing its dance, since it was laden with at least a half inch of snow on each branch, silent and imposing.
Its position in front of the living room window kept him from making a quick assessment of the situation inside, but it also kept anyone inside from seeing him before he crossed the threshold.
Sidestepping, Adrial watched that window as he approached the front door.
Another window—belonging to Winnie’s bedroom—stared out over the porch, but it was impossible to see past her curtains.
He tested the scuffed gold door handle, compressing the flat lever with his thumb.
Unlocked.
Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Winnie wasn’t the type of person to leave her front door unlocked.
Even in the neighborhood she’d grown up in and was occupied by multiple police officers.
She knew better, had memorized every single safety rule her father and his cop friends—Adrial included—had ingrained in her over the years until she could recite them in her sleep.
Something was wrong.
Shouldering through the door, he cringed as the rubber seal screamed his arrival.
Damn it. Moving fast, he cleared the front room as Baxter tested the sliding glass door at the back of the house.
He maneuvered through the arch leading to the kitchen, clearing the hallway leading to the back rooms as he passed, and lifted the old broomstick from the track.
The door slid back on the sticky tracks.
Hell, it was like this house wanted them to be discovered.
“Anything?” Baxter unholstered his weapon, scanning the oversize kitchen Adrial and Winnie had eaten in like they were the only two people on the planet mere hours ago.
Adrial shook his head, pressing his finger to his lips.
He pointed to the hallway, heel-toeing it as Baxter followed behind.
They each took a side, Adrial on the left, the forensic investigator on the right, and cleared every room one by one, going around the bulky wood stairs in the middle of the hall.
Once he determined the rooms were empty, they turned back to the stairs.
Baxter covered him as Adrial ascended in the attic.
The bare bulb buzzed overhead, the string dragging across his face as he caught sight of the hole in the middle of the space.
Leading straight down into the garage.
“Clear.” Staring through the person-size hole in the drywall, Adrial holstered his weapon as every scenario played across his mind. Debris littered the cement below. Along with a multiple reddish stains that’d already dried.
Baxter didn’t waste his time joining him, swatting webs out of his face. “She’s not here.”
No. She wasn’t, but her car was. It was parked on the other side of the two-car garage. Which meant she could be anywhere. Adrial did a quick scan of the space. “Call the hospital. See if anyone has been checked in under her description.”
“On it.” Baxter unpocketed his phone, but Adrial already knew the answer by the time the forensic investigator hung up. “She’s not there.”
“Someone went through that hole.” Adrial threaded his hand through his hair and tugged on the strands, his heart rate racketing higher and higher every second Winnie was out of reach.
Was she hurt? Had the killer gotten to her?
Had it been an accident and she needed his help?
His mind wouldn’t shut down, spinning him in circles and drawing him to a panic.
Numbness prickled at the tips of his fingers and raced up his forearms. Flexing his hands against the hollow sensation spreading in his chest, he forced himself to focus on her.
On how Winnie’s brain worked, how she liked to have control.
Then he caught sight of an evidence bag. Adrial picked it up, recognizing an open crime scene swab inside. The evidence bag had been shredded, but the sample hadn’t budged. Righting one of the boxes that fell over, he found more bags. More evidence. “She found it.”
“Hell. Is that what I think it is?”
“Every piece of evidence Arthur Hutton compromised.”
“There has to be multiple cases here.”
“Bastard.”
This was what the killer had been looking for, blamed Winnie for.
And if she’d come here… There was only one place this could end.
Adrail gathered every evidence bag into a single box and shoved it at Baxter’s chest. “Collect it all and take it back to the office. I want it cataloged and retested. All of it.”
His best friend latched on to the half-eaten box. “What will you be doing?”
“The lake.” It was the only location that made sense.
It was where this entire nightmare had started and where the killer would want to make a final statement.
“The killer blames Winnie for hiding all the evidence Arthur stole, but she left it behind. She doesn’t care about the truth. She’s just out for revenge.”
“Go. I’ll make my own way back to the office and keep you updated on what I find. I’ll get Michal to meet you out there.” Baxter maneuvered out of the way, slapping Adrial on the back as he descended the stairs. “Good luck.”
Adrial didn’t hesitate. His thigh burned as though a thousand ants had started eating him alive as he burst back through the front door and headed for the truck.
Every cell in his body honed on getting to the lake.
He raced through Black Hollow, not seeing the haunting memories as he drove passed his parents’ home, but the joy-filled memories to come, memories he wanted more than he wanted to hang on to the past. The ones where Winnie finally moved into the house he’d bought just for her.
Where they walked these quiet streets and she wore his ring on her hand.
Where he pressed her into the mattress every night to calm her racing brain and kissed her awake every morning.
Where he slid his hands over her pregnant belly as they relaxed in front of the fireplace and decorated one of the extra rooms as a nursery.
He wanted it all—wanted to be whole again—and she was the key.
He’d known it the moment he’d left Black Hollow, was reminded of it when she’d stepped into his office and couldn’t stop from needing it now.
Winnie. His Winnie. The past would always be there—Katie and their baby would always be part of him—but Baxter had stood as an example that while loss changed lives, it didn’t have to dictate the future.
And he wanted a future. With Winnie.
Adrial blazed through the town limits, heading east faster than was probably safe, but there were no other cars heading for the lake this time of year.
Slush sprayed up the edges of the SUV as the distance between him and Hollow Lake shortened.
He could see the expanse of ice cresting over the ridge through a grouping of trees.
Then another vehicle. Cutting the daytime running lights, he swerved into the parking area, barely shoving the vehicle into Park before his feet hit the snow.
Winds kicked up a layer of fine powder, cutting off his visual across the lake.
But he could make them out. The killer standing over her.
Winnie on all fours. He could already see what would happen next, and Adrial was sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him.
He left the shore behind, his boots failing to cling to the ice.
Fighting between keeping his steps light and getting to Winnie raged beneath the surface of his skin.
Biting cold infiltrated his clothing, but he kept going. To get to her. “Winnie!”
The killer kicked the cinder block into the lake.
Dragging Winnie down into the icy water.
“No!” He stripped off his jacket, tossed it aside and pushed himself harder.
Time. He was running out of time. That future he’d imagined was slipping through his fingers.
The killer turned and ran. For the moment, he didn’t care about her.
All he could think about was Winnie. He had to get to Winnie.
Adrial sucked in a series of deep breaths as he came up on the wide hole in the ice and dove into the blackness after her.