Chapter 4
HOLLOW OF THE HEART
Graham
I thought seeing her—knowing she was safe—would stitch me up. Instead, watching her with him ripped me clean open, stem to stern. I couldn’t stand there while another guy played house with the only woman I wanted.
Driving to the precinct, I mulled over tomorrow, turning Hunter’s card over in my hand. The Obsidian Curtain Awards, “The Oscars of Porn,” held at the Roman Forge Casino in Downtown Boston.
Jesus.
I caught myself smirking in the rearview—dark, humorless—the kind of smirk that said you’re really going to suit up for porn stars, Locke?
I got out, boots crunching against the icy lot, and entered the precinct. If I was going to help out on the case, Nettles needed to drag me out of the doghouse and give me back my toys so I could play wee-woo duty again.
He shoved my badge and gun across his desk. “You’d better not screw up again.”
“Nice vote of confidence, boss.” I squinted a tight-lipped smile at him and picked up my badge.
I let it linger in my palm. It felt like a foreign piece of chromed brass—the permission slip that made it okay to take someone’s life.
Dress it up in protocol, call it duty, or even justice, but in the end, the body’s still on the ground and the blood is still on your hands.
Deep down, the weight of the badge didn’t feel the same. Being back didn’t fix me. Just made me a puppet for the town again. But I took it anyway. Better to be a puppet with a gun than nothing.
“Hey, I put my neck on the line for you with the commissioner. He wanted you off the force completely.” He paced behind his desk. “I was able to convince him to let you come back under my direct supervision.”
“So… what does that look like?” I tucked my badge into my jeans pocket.
“It looks like you don’t piss without my permission for a few months, Locke.
” The captain leaned into the desk, both hands flat on the wood, and didn’t blink.
“I’m not going to babysit you… but I expect you to follow orders.
If you can do that for a few months, I can recommend you for the detective’s exam.
” He rolled the toothpick between his teeth with his tongue. “Fuck it up, and you’re done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He pushed a blue folder toward me.
“Go back three months. Midwest murders. All dark-haired, blue-eyed, petite, feisty. Fast forward to about a month and a half after you left, and—boom—East Coast. Blonde hair, dark brown eyes, curves… basically a carbon copy of that train wreck you’re obsessed with.”
I wanted to put my fist through his desk. Instead, my fingers tightened on the folder. This had better be worth it.
“Open it. It’s crazy how much they look alike.”
I did, but wished I hadn’t. Each girl, a reflection of her, only… wrong. Nose too sharp, tits too big, hair platinum instead of honey, too tall, too thin.
Thank God none were Maggie. Still, my brain tripped over every little detail.
“Midwest girls still showing up?” I flipped through the photos. Each girl posed, hands neat, hair tidy. Ready for display.
“So far? No. They stopped once the murders hit here.”
I held up a small baggie. Black feather inside.
“Each girl held one of those—his calling card,” Nettles said and resumed pacing behind his desk.
“And the East Coast girls?”
“Red ribbon tied in the hair. Same setup. Arms to the sides, palms flat, ankles crossed. Staged.”
“You said his. How do we know?”
I stared at the photos, at the frozen, posed bodies, and my chest tightened like a vise. Every feather, every ribbon, every pose screamed her, twisted into someone else’s image. I could feel her there—somewhere in the blur—and it made my hands clench, my knuckles turning white.
“The exam found penetration consistent with penile assault.”
“Any fluids?”
“None. This guy was clean. Wrapped it up, didn’t sweat or even so much as breathe on her. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wore a goddamn hazmat suit with a built-in condom.”
“That’s an image.” I blinked and focused on the lineup of dead girls I’d laid out on his desk.
Every time I thought about a serial killer, I thought of Rebecca.
Of Wren.
And now Maggie.
My mind screamed protect her. That’s all that mattered.
Even if I had to watch another man lay his hands on her, kiss her, fuck her, fall for all her hippy-witchy shit—even if it made me choke on every goddamn inch of her I wanted but couldn’t have—it had to be worth it, because in the end, all that mattered was that she was safe.
Maggie
I held the phone over my face as I watched Katie’s latest hair catastrophe evolve into a full-on masterpiece on video chat.
Her pixie had grown out into something gloriously ridiculous—a black faux hawk with bright pink tips that somehow read equal parts punk and birthday cake.
Frankly, anything she did would probably look good on her.
She could show up in a paper bag and people would ask her who her designer was.
“Pop quiz!” she announced, setting her phone on her vanity so I could see the whole transformation. “Skeet Ulrich or Matthew Lillard?” She was already painting on a glittery eyeshadow with dangerous precision.
“Don’t you know me at all?” I teased. “I’d take ‘em both at the same time.”
She squealed like I’d given her the best possible answer. “That’s my girl. I’ve trained you well.”
Katie’s hands moved like a scientist—precise strokes of liner, an excited wiggle of her shoulders when she found the exact color of lip gloss she needed. She had this way of turning getting ready into a ritual—watching her was like reading your favorite spellbook aloud and expecting fireworks.
“So, what are you up to, Katie-bug?”
“Well, I was thinking about making a quick video. We still need four grand before we have the down payment on the building.”
“Oh! That reminds me!” I said, sitting upright. “Guess who’s NightShiftGT.”
“Who?” Her eyes snapped to mine.
“Graham.”
She stopped mid-stroke on her lower lip, eyes wide as headlights. “What?! No way. How do you know that?”
“He stopped by.”
“Mags!” Katie finished painting her lips, then brought her face close to the screen. “What did Hunter say?”
“Actually… he invited him to the bedroom with us.”
“Shut up. Really?” Her voice brimmed with glee. “Does he know who he is to you?”
“Yeah… I guess he’s okay with it.”
“Girrrl, that is crazy!” Katie was already buzzing, fascinated. “Is he going to do it?”
I laughed, despite myself. Katie’s enthusiasm always baffled me. I could have told her we were going to have an orgy-fueled ritual with the entire precinct on Halloween with her as the sacrifice, and she would have been thrilled.
“I don’t think so,” I said, sitting up. “I think he’s scared he’ll have to touch Hunter’s dick.”
Katie lost it. I was pretty sure I could hear her cackle across town through the window.
“Oh, to be a fly on the wall during that,” she said.
“Like I said, it’s probably not happening. But Hunter did also hire Graham to protect me tomorrow at the awards. You’re still bringing Derek, right?”
“Yes, but he’s being cagey,” she said, coating her lashes in thick black mascara. “I don’t know if I can convince him to leave the mask behind. He doesn’t want anyone knowing it was him in those videos.”
I rolled my eyes. “No one is going to know he was even involved.” I smiled. “He’s just there supporting his slutty little friends.”
“So, Mags, did Graham mention anything to watch out for with this killer?”
“No. Nothing.” I pushed my tangled hair from my face. “Just that he didn’t think Hunter would be up for the task of protecting me.”
“Well, apparently, Hunter agrees. He hired Graham.”
“That’s just because he’s going to be busy with the awards.”
“Mmhmm.” Katie continued running the mascara wand through her lashes, mouth hanging open.
“How’s Chester, Kates?”
“Missing his mama. But I did bring him to Wyldewood on Wednesday. He went nuts with Tophie’s kids—ran himself ragged.”
“I bet. They’re about his age.”
“Yeah, and you should have seen Mrs. Pembledown with him. Clung to him like he was her long-lost grandbaby. Might have to make it a regular thing, Chester visiting the seniors.”
“That’s… great.” I forced a smile. Every word cut.
He was happy—just not here. I tried to sound enthusiastic about him enjoying his time away.
But it gutted me that he wasn’t with me.
It gutted me that he couldn’t stand Hunter, especially after Hunter had gone through all that trouble—a new cat tower, toys, treats—his grand scheme to win him over.
And still, Chester wanted nothing to do with him.
I blew out a breath and shut the thought down before it could spiral. “Kates, I gotta run. We’ll pick you up at five tomorrow. Hunter rented a limo. Make sure you look hot.”
She snorted. “Like I have to try.”
“Knock… knock…” Hunter poked his head into the bedroom.
“See ya tomorrow.” I clicked off the phone.
“How’s our little gothic Barbie doing?” He sat next to me on the bed.
“She’s good. Just going to make a quick video.”
“I love that. Katie’s unforgettable, and she pulls people in who need to feel seen.”
“That she does.”
“You know… I could always lend you two the money for your shop.” He ran his hand up my back and started massaging my shoulders.
“Hunter, that’s sweet. But I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“You won’t, mo chróí .” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and brought his lips to my neck, nibbling as he whispered, “There are ways to pay it off.”
I leaned into his kisses. They felt nice, but already owing him didn’t sit well. I’d taken so much from him, and the only way I could pay back my debt to him would be if I could give him back his life—his ability to choose. But I didn’t know how to do that.