Chapter 6
Detective Paige Walker
New York City
“Who made the coffee?” I shouted across the department. “It tastes like shit.”
Elijah chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, one boot resting on the corner of his desk, eating a blueberry muffin.
“You’re getting crumbs all over your desk,” I said.
“Don’t nitpick me because the coffee tastes like shit.” He bit into his muffin.
While I was looking over a case file, my cell phone vibrated, and suddenly, my mood got worse.
“Wow. Why is the Florida detective, aka your ex, calling?” Elijah asked.
“I have no fucking idea.” I picked up my phone and brought it to my ear. “What?”
“You always did know how to make a guy feel welcomed,” he said.
“Luke, why are you calling me?”
“I’ve got a homicide that may interest you.”
“I’m in New York. Whatever happens in Florida isn’t my concern anymore.”
“Trust me. I know where you are.”
“Then why are you calling me about a case? I’m not consulting.”
“Well, you might change your mind when you hear what I have to say.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt it.”
“Just hear me out. Victim’s name is Kevin Hadley. He was a history professor at Florida Keys University. His cause of death—are you ready?”
“Spit it out, Luke. I don’t have all day.”
“Twenty-two stab wounds.”
I jumped up from my chair.
“What?”
“You heard me. Twenty-two stab wounds. Family man. Wife. Three daughters. And judging by the text messages we read after unlocking his phone, he was having an affair.”
My eyes widened as I glanced at Elijah.
“What?” Elijah whispered.
“I remember the cases you were working on in New York. The cheating husband murders. But here’s the thing. The body was found posed under the same tree as a young woman who was murdered two weeks ago.”
“Posed?” I asked.
“Yes. I didn’t say anything because the others think the cases of the young girl and our history professor are connected. But I don’t think they are. I think whoever murdered the history professor wanted to make it look like it was the same killer.”
“I’m coming down there.”
“Figured you would. I’ll see you when you get here.”
“What the hell is going on?” Elijah asked as I ended the call.
“A cheating history professor was found murdered. Twenty-two stab wounds, Elijah.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I’m not. I have to go see Captain Rivera.”
“He’s not going to be happy that you’re showing up to his house on a Saturday.”
“He’ll get over it.” I slung my purse over my shoulder and raced out of the station.
I pulled up to the house and rang the doorbell.
“Paige.” Miranda smiled. “It’s good to see you.”
“Hi, Miranda. Is the Captain here?”
“He sure is. Come in. He’s in the kitchen eating breakfast.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. I walked into the kitchen and found him sitting at the table.
“Paige, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Sorry to just drop by like this, but I need to fly down to the Keys.”
His brows furrowed. “Why?”
“Luke called me and said they found a body in the state park this morning. He’s a history professor over at the Florida Keys University. Married, three daughters, and cheating on his wife. Cause of death was twenty-two stab wounds.”
“No shit,” he said. “Twenty-two, you say?”
“It’s not a coincidence, Captain. It has to be Katherine. I know it. I can feel it.”
“You said she disappeared without a trace.”
“I know, but I have to go down there and check it out. Please, Captain.”
He stared at me, and I could see the wheels spinning in his head.
“What about your cases here?”
“Elijah can handle them.”
He set his fork down and sighed. “Fine. Take some time off and go. But on your dime. The department isn’t paying.”
“Deal.” I smiled.
As soon as I arrived home, I got online and booked the first flight out of New York. Twenty-two stab wounds. It wasn’t a coincidence.
I hadn’t thought about Katherine Tate since she disappeared.
I’d forced myself not to. That investigation consumed me from the day we found the first murdered victim.
The evidence. The bodies. The lies. Every road eventually led back to her.
Then she vanished. One day she was here.
The next. Nothing. No credit cards. No phone.
No car. No passport activity. No body. It was as if she fell off the face of the earth.
But Katherine didn’t strike me as someone who would just disappear.
She wanted answers. She fought for them.
She wanted justice. She wanted closure. She didn’t fit the profile, but somewhere along the blurred lines, she did.
Maybe I’d been chasing the wrong question.
Maybe it wasn’t about where Katherine went, but who disappeared with her.
I opened the file I kept at home and studied the notes.
There were still too many holes. Too many things that never made sense.
And too many answers that died the day Katherine vanished.
Now, there was a man who was found murdered beneath a state park tree in Key West with twenty-two stab wounds. And for the first time since this all started, the ghost was knocking on my door once again.