Chapter 2
THE KILLER KNOWS HER FACE
Graham
I should have known that Silas was going to be a problem as soon as he scared the shit out of me on the trip back to Colorado Springs.
Bastard materialized in the passenger's seat, spouting some shit about how I was "rude" for leaving him in the pocket mirror wedged between the truck seats. I didn't even know he was there. Ever since then, I’d fought with the urge to ship him back to Port Grey. It would have been so easy to throw him in a box and slap a stamp on him. But that would’ve been wrong. Easy—but wrong. I could have avoided reopening the wound I’d given Maggie.
I still couldn’t get the sound of his grunts out of my head if I thought about it too long. I won’t even be able to look him in the eye when I get back.
Who was I kidding, though? I gave her up—she wasn’t mine—not really, anyway. And I was an asshole for leading her on like I did. At least he’d come through for her like he did me. If she did end up with someone else, I’d sleep better at night knowing it was him.
The plan was to leave in a few days after I got the house listed, but with the constant interruptions from Silas and my inability to forget her, I couldn’t stay away. I called Rebecca’s mother, Holly, to help tie up the loose ends with the house.
God, it hurt to see her. She looked so much like Bec, just older. A walking reminder of everything I’d lost—and everything I’d taken from her. It was a fucking miracle I didn’t spiral right on the spot.
She handed me a box filled with Bec and Wren’s things. “Graham, I’ve been setting these aside for you.”
“I haven’t been able to—” My voice caught in my throat. “I can’t.”
“I know, dear.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “But it’s time. Rebecca would want you to move on. She loved you more than anyone. You deserve to find happiness again.”
“I don’t deserve happiness after—”
“You do.” Her voice was steady. Gentle. She moved to the garage and I followed. “What would she say if she found out you left these beautiful machines to collect dust?” She pointed to my ‘67 Shelby and my old Harley behind a pile of boxes.
A short huff of air escaped me. “She’d probably say I was being a stubborn jackass.”
Holly smiled faintly. “She’d be right. Take them. I think there's someone back in Port Grey you’d like to impress.”
I blinked. “What? How—”
“You have the same light in your eyes that you had with Rebecca.”
“Well, I fucked that up so… no… I don’t have anyone.”
“If she’s worth anything, she’ll understand. Talk to her. Does she know?”
“Yes.”
“Then she’ll understand.”
“No. I did something really shitty. I left her when she needed me the most.”
“Graham. Go home. Talk to her. Make it right.”
I looked away. I didn’t want her seeing the truth in my face. She didn’t need to know how fucked up my life was. Not after what I took from her.
“Graham. Look at me.”
I did. Big mistake. It was like staring into the eyes of the only other person alive who knew exactly what that day had cost.
“I told you years ago that even though you blame yourself… I don’t,” she said.
“And I meant it. But I also don’t want to see you here again unless it’s for something worth celebrating—like your wedding, a birthday, or the day you make detective.
You’ve got more life to live than this place will ever give you. ”
My throat felt tight. I stayed quiet.
“You know what really breaks my heart?” Her voice softened and she squeezed my shoulder. “Thinking about all the people who need you out there, and here you are… hiding. Rebecca wouldn’t want that. She’s not here.”
Holly placed her hand on my chest and patted it a couple times. “She’s right there and has been since the day she met you. And right beside her is room for new memories and a new love.”
All I could do was nod. I didn’t trust myself to speak. Holly had lost just as much as I had, if not more, yet she still pushed me forward. That was where Bec got it.
I carried the box out to the truck and stuck it in the bed.
Silas leaned against my truck like he owned it.
“Get off,” I grumbled.
“Has it been decided, then?” he said, floating beside me like an eager child.
“Yes. I’ve got to get you back, remember? God, I’ve got to get you back.” I rubbed my brow. “This is just—”
“Necessary? Part of the process?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in a mirror somewhere?” I headed back to the garage. Silas followed.
“Yes, but it is rather boring in there. Are we telling Maggie we are returning? I do bet the gal has missed me.”
“God, don’t you have anything better to do than linger?”
“What’s better than helping my new nephew plan for his return to the family?”
I stopped mid-stride. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, you know she’ll take you back, dear boy. She must.”
“No” I hefted another box into the truck. “I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
Silas chuffed. “Well, then it’s a good thing she’s not you.”
“Get in the damn mirror. We’ve got a long drive, and I don’t have time for this.” I pulled it out of my pocket and opened it toward him.
“Fine. But do let me out before we hit the Mississippi. I want to experience it properly this time, instead of crammed between two seat cushions.”
He flew into the mirror with such force I felt the heat in my palm. I snapped it shut and tucked it back in my pocket.
After I had the truck loaded, I hooked it to the trailer and got both the Shelby and the Harley secured. As hard as it was going to be to say goodbye, I wasn’t spending one more night than I had to in Colorado.
As I backed down the driveway the next morning, Holly stood in front of the garage door, arms folded, watching me like she’d know if I hesitated. I didn’t give her any more than a simple nod and pulled away.
I wasn’t looking forward to this. I could either stay in Colorado and relive my worst nightmare day after day, or attempt a life in Port Grey with the only woman who’d made me feel anything at all.
The low drone of the truck had become the calm that kept me here… in the present. The mountains gave way to open space. It was the kind of space that didn’t do well with my mind. It let it wander, trace the paths back to that night. But now there was another layer of guilt added to it.
Maggie.
Her kidnapping and Bec and Wren’s had meshed together in my mind without my permission. They overlapped. The same emotions, flooding in, dragging up things that had no business seeing daylight.
A semi blew past, shaking the truck. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and checked the trailer in the rearview mirror.
Images kept hitting me—Maggie’s laugh, her bare shoulders, the way she looked in the videos, the sounds she made, but then the image of Derek and her on the porch swing snapped me back into reality and almost off the goddamn road.
I shuddered.
Night fell; I kept driving. I could be there in a day or two if I drove straight through.
The headlights cut through the dark. I’d let Silas out of the mirror when we got out of town. As much as I hated to admit it, I was glad I wasn’t alone—even if the crusty old bugger wouldn’t stop telling his tales from his glory days.
Gas stations blurred, neon lights faded into one another. My eyes grew heavy as we crossed the Mississippi, so I pulled into a station before I drove myself into a ditch.
The TV over the coffee counter played a local news segment.
I took a sip carefully while listening. The sound was low, but I caught enough—another body found at a pier, left by none other than what East Coast authorities were calling The Pretty Girl Killer.
Coffee nearly shot from my mouth. The picture on the screen was blurred, but there was no mistaking that beautiful blonde hair.
I pulled out my phone and frantically dialed Derek.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” he said, voice filled with sleep. “It’s like 4 o’clock in the morning.”
I spoke low and quiet into the phone. “Maggie’s okay… right?”
“Yeah? I mean I haven’t talked to her today because she’s a normal person and is… sleeping… Why?”
“Apparently, there’s someone called The Pretty Girl Killer? I just saw a news report. I just need to know she’s okay.”
“Dude, you’ve got her number. Call her.”
He was right. He always was. There was no time for high school drama.
“Just a heads up. I’m on my way back.”
“It’s about fucking time.”
“Oh, and can you do me a favor?”
He cleared his throat. “I guess?”
“The next time you’re fucking my girl, wear some goddamn gloves or something. I was fine until I saw the fucking bat.”
“Oh, you saw that, huh?”
“Yes, I fucking saw it. What was that about anyway? I thought you despised sex work? You two a thing?”
“Strictly platonic, and the videos were just for some extra cash.”
“You sure? Does she feel that way?” I ran my hand through my hair.
“Yeah, don’t worry.” The anger in his tone was palpable. “She’s still stuck on you. I was just there when she needed someone.”
That stung, knowing I was the reason she needed someone in the first place. “Okay. Well, keep taking care of her for me. I don’t know when I’ll see her.”
“Mmhmm.” Click.
I shoved my phone into my pocket, paid, and headed back to the truck. Sleep was something everyone needed right now, and I wasn’t special.
My phone chimed. Maggie?
Shoving my snacks under my arm like a football, I pulled my phone back out, trying not to spill my coffee.
Nettles: I don’t know if you’re done with your little temper tantrum or not, but I need you here. There’s a case I’m pretty sure you’d be interested in. You’ll have to see it to believe it. Call me.
Figures, he’d call just as I was about to get a little shuteye.
I dialed his number.
“Locke, where the hell are you?”
“Nice to hear your voice too, Cap,” I said, settling into the seat.
“You’re needed here.” His voice sounded panicky, and I didn’t like that.
“Yeah, that’s what I hear. What is it?”
“There’s a serial killer sweeping the entire East Coast.”
“What’s his MO?”
“Blonde. Brown-eyed… thick… See where I’m going?”
“Yeah. I fucking see it.”
“They’re also all sex workers.” He paused. “After you left, Maggie started making videos—”
“I know…”