13. Elijah
13
ELIJAH
“ W hat are we missing?” I mutter, looking down at the papers spread out in front of me. Every single inch of this wooden conference table is covered by one file or another, my private notes from when I was the lead detective on the case.
Pictures sit beside each empty folder; they’re a diagram into the inner workings of Jason’s mind, and even the smallest detail can be vital in capturing this motherfucker. To save Ava.
“I’ve been asking myself that very question since our texts yesterday,” Perez says, studying the notes he was given this morning as an older couple walks by, and I look up to follow their movements into the elevator. We’re downstairs, and the blinds are open inside the private conference space the building’s concierge lets me use whenever I need it.
The window doesn’t allow anyone to see in. Completely soundproof and debugged for listening devices, but more importantly, if anyone tries to sneak upstairs, they must walk by this room to do so.
It puts me at ease. That, and I have cameras. Plenty. Every-fucking-where.
So, while Ava sleeps, I work. Try to solve the pieces of this puzzle that’s been plaguing me since I was given my assignment.
Jason has someone working with him. He has to have an accomplice.
Of that, I have no doubt, but who? And more importantly, from which department and state?
“And what have you come up with?”
“I hate to admit this, but your theory is correct, Ford.” He sits back and chugs his coffee, the grimace on his face telling me it’s gone cold and nasty. Or maybe it’s the bitter pill of betrayal. “No one thought to look deeper, or those who did were paid to remain silent, but somehow—one of our fucking own is feeding him information. We know Jason is heading this way. The bastard got free, and instead of going south to Mexico and avoiding recapture, he’s leaving a trail of victims that point straight back here. It’s a fucked-up scene. He knows we have her, but it’s a lead we can approach. We can intercept him.”
I don’t like it. Fucking loathe that they’ll use Ava as bait, but it wouldn’t be the first time this tactic has been used. Especially as the desperation to recapture him grows.
I’ll protect her with my life. No one will harm her.
My reactions to her don’t make sense and the sudden attraction is beyond my comprehension, but I don’t doubt it either. Something about her calls to me. To my innermost caveman-like tendencies where the need to provide safety and care supersedes all else.
“And the other girl?” I ask, trying to remain calm. To not show just how far I’ll go for her if need be. “Has she been found?”
As of late last night, they’re looking into Karla and asking the public to come forward if she’s seen. So far, the missing persons report has been spread from Texas to the West Coast.
Cap shakes his head, lips pursed. “No. Not a damn sign of her. Not so much as a bogus call.”
“That’s not his usual style, though.” Rubbing my eyes, I sit back and take a sip from my own lukewarm coffee as I work through the chaos in my mind. I’m not seeing something, missing what could be a vital piece of information, and it’s eating at me. “Her pictures are everywhere now, along with his mugshot. Why tempt fate and be seen?”
“What are you thinking?” His question forces my eyes back to the morbid shots on the table. His kills. “From the very first victim to the penultimate, they all follow a certain pattern. Upper body bruising, a deep gash across the chest, and his thumbprints embedded deep into their jugular. Each body lies face up and straight, with their hands intertwined over their abdomens and painted red with their own blood. That, and the cuts. It’s almost like a painter with the strokes of a brush.”
“All but?—”
“The last,” I finish for him. Picking up Sarah’s photo, I point out that this kill seems rushed. Unsatisfactory for him. There’s anger in the way she was just left behind with a broken neck.
“How many know about the contents of the email I sent you? Are we exchanging that information with San Antonio and Dallas?” Pushing my chair back, I stand and begin pacing the room. Scenarios play out in my mind, each one leading me back to his first kill. “What about the team here or Arizona?”
“It’s a combined effort, but mainly the two Texas departments.”
“Check relationships. Ripley had or has friends and a family. We need to figure out if any of them have a connection to someone on the force.”
“You think they know Ava personally? Maybe from their childhood?”
“Everything is possible...” I trail off as my cell phone suddenly vibrates atop the table. My landline flashes across the screen, and I grab the device, pressing accept, but I’m too late.
“What’s going?—”
“Ava.” That’s all I give Captain Perez before taking off, my finger pressing the redial button when it vibrates again. “I’m almost there,” I say, pulling the door to the stairway open; it bangs against the wall with a loud clang as I take each step two at a time. “Are you hurt? Someone at the door?”
The last is almost impossible with how I watched the entryways, and my app shows no movement there, but I can never rule anything out. As long as she doesn’t open the door, she’s safe.
“It’s probably nothing...” there’s a self-deprecating laugh that follows, and it carries a hint of panic “...but you said to tell you if anything creeped me out. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you while you work, but?—”
“You can always call me. No matter the reason.” Behind me, the sound of footsteps running up is loud and heavy but much slower. My head turns slightly, just enough to catch sight of Perez bounding up with arms full of files.
“Thank you.” There’s a pause and then a huff. As if she’s annoyed with herself. “Someone called the house and he said my name, and it just felt… off . Didn’t sit right.”
“What did they say?” Opening the door to my floor, I rush through and run toward my apartment. “Name?”
“An Officer Denis Meyers.” The fuck. My hand punches the nearest wall, and a chunk of plaster falls to the floor. I don’t say anything, my mind whirling in different directions. Looking at every possibility. “Are you there?”
“Open the door.” It leaves me on a harsh growl as I stop, hand on the casing. Ava squeaks on the other end but doesn’t hang up, instead, she keeps me on the line while walking my way and then pausing on the other side.
I can feel her presence through the heavy wood.
Feel her eyes on my skin through the peephole.
“Look up, please.” I do as she asks, and the turning of a lock follows. Ava opens the door to let me in and as our eyes meet, the tightness around her features softens. “You didn’t have to rush back, Eli. It’s just that I was under the impression that only you and Captain?—”
“No one else knows, Ava.”
“He’s right,” Captain says, a little out of breath from behind me. My hands clench at my sides, the effort to not pull her close and lock us away almost maddening. “Your location has been kept a secret from everyone in our precinct working this case. No one outside of myself and Detective Ford should have that phone number, much less know you’re here.”
My eyes are on hers as he speaks, taking in her body language—ready to step in if she’s afraid of the unknown male moving past us and entering my home. Something I realize rather quickly is unnecessary.
I don’t miss the way she gives him a small smile.
No cowering back. No distrust. Almost familiar .
They share a look I can’t decipher, and then those baby blues settle back on mine. “Should we head inside, too?”
“Are you okay?” Without conscious thought, I reach out and take her hand in mine. Give those small fingers a gentle squeeze. “Need anything?”
“You’re here now.” Her voice is a gentle caress. So honest and sweet. And fuck me if those simple words don’t make me feel a hundred feet tall. It also fortifies my need to keep her safe above all else.
She deserves to know how bad things are.
It’s true, and I hate it.
Hate that the fears she’s lost will be back.
Hate that once we step through my door things will get heavy, so I try to lighten the mood.
I give her a cocky grin and waggle my brows. “Is this your way of saying I’m your knight in shining armor?”
Her response is a roll of the eyes and a quick flick to my forehead. Hard, too. “Don’t let it go to your head, but I do, and it’s not easy for me to admit that either. Especially since I know you’re keeping something from me.”
The smile drops from my face. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I watch the news, Detective Ford.” The hand encased by one of mine shifts seconds before her thumb runs over my knuckles. “I’m also not blaming you.”