Chapter 46 Louise
LOUISE
turned onto the long drive to Ryder’s castle on the hill, with him riding my bumper the whole way.
Ansel had four new tires, a new axle, headliner, oil change, radiator flush—and a pine-scented air freshener that smelled suspiciously amazing. Best part? A brand-new visor that didn’t flap in my face. He drove like a new car.
When I went to pay, Frankie told me Ryder already had. I argued, but Ryder shut me up with a kiss. Effective, infuriating, and unfair.
I would pay him back—every penny.
As I crested the hill, I frowned. A sleek black Escalade was parked in front of the house.
Ryder didn’t have friends.
I glanced in the rearview mirror as he gunned it around me, cutting me off, noticing the car the same time I did. He blocked in the SUV and jumped out, his hand sliding to the gun on his belt.
Shit.
Wide-eyed, I hit the brakes.
Ryder held up his hand, clearly meaning wait there.
My heart pounded as I gripped the steering wheel, watching Ryder do a three-sixty of the vehicle—gun up—and then disappear on the other side between the house and the SUV. A minute passed, two, three. When he finally emerged, this time from the garage, he motioned me to drive forward.
“What’s going on?” I asked once I’d parked in the garage and gotten out.
“We have uninvited guests.”
“What? Who?”
I followed him inside to the kitchen, where Mack and Roman were pouring Scotch into short glasses. They glanced up and dipped their chins in greeting. Their expressions were grim.
Something was off. Wrong.
“Talk.” Ryder snatched the glass from Mack and downed the shot it contained.
Mack pulled another glass from the cabinet and filled it. “Still slick out there, isn’t it?”
“You didn’t come here to talk about the weather.”
Roman sipped his drink. “We didn’t want to do this over the phone.”
Mack knocked back the shot. “Damn, that’s good.”
“Someone better tell me what the hell’s going on.” Ryder growled.
Roman pulled a laptop from his bag and set it on the table. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he logged into several secure screens.
I stayed back, but close enough to hear.
“You asked me to pull Maci’s file from BSPD.”
“That’s right.”
Roman turned the laptop around. “I read through it, and something stood out.”
Ryder yanked it from him and began scrolling. “What stood out?”
“First, let me make sure I’m clear. As I understand it, the story goes that Ortiz broke into your house, and raped and strangled Maci before slipping out the back door.
We know this because one, the front door lock was busted, verifying that he broke in, two, his DNA was found on her body, verifying he raped her, and three, boot prints led out the back door, verifying he left out the back. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything else you remember? Did the cops tell you anything else at all?”
Ryder straightened, one hand lingering on the laptop keys. With the other, he picked up his drink almost mindlessly, as if he sensed he needed it to prepare himself for whatever Roman was about to tell him. “No. It was pretty cut-and-dried.”
“Maybe not. A second set of boot prints was found at the scene.”
“Mine,” Ryder said. “They had to have been my prints. Were they mine?”
Mack shook his head. “Size ten and half. You wear a fourteen, if my memory serves me correctly.”
A moment of silence ticked by, so weighted that goose bumps spread over my arms.
I stepped forward. “So someone else was there? It specifically says that in the report?”
Roman nodded.
“Who?” Ryder demanded, his eyes going wild.
“According to the official report, the cops never identified the second person. They knew it wasn’t Ortiz because the tread on the print was different.
The report says they scoured Ortiz’s social media accounts, pulling the height and weight of his closest friends to determine shoe size.
Interviewed most of them. You were already in jail at this point.
One of Ortiz’s acquaintances wore a size ten boot but was out of town during the murder.
His airline and hotel confirmed this. That was it. That was as far as they got.”
“Why the hell don’t I know this?”
The vein in his forehead began pulsing.
“Confidential report of the incident,” Roman explained. “They had no obligation to tell you. And as I said, you were already convicted and locked up at this point.”
Mack set down his Scotch. “And besides, even if they were inclined to tell you or ask you about it, you’d already killed Ortiz. You killed him before they could even shake him on it.”
Ryder lunged across the counter. I stumbled backward, my heart jumping into my throat. Roman sprang into action, tackling Ryder to the floor and pinning his hands behind his back before I could even take a breath.
“You fucking son of a bitch,” Ryder growled from the tile.
“It’s not his fault,” I blurted.
Roman murmured something in Ryder’s ear. Mack stared down at them, his arms crossed over his chest. A second passed, and when Roman finally released Ryder, he jumped to his feet. I held my breath.
Mack bowed up, then sighed. “Facts are facts. But I should’ve chosen my words better. Sorry.”
Ryder turned away, and began pacing. After a deep breath, he said, “This makes sense. Whoever was there with Ortiz that day took Maci’s necklace.
Maybe they were worried it had DNA on it, or maybe they just liked it.
Whoever did this disposed of the pendant in Hollow Hill.
Years ago, based on the grime it had all over it.
Probably thought no one would find it, or it being there would frame the high school kids who went there. ”
“What pendant?” Roman asked.
Ryder filled in Mack and Roman on the story of Maci’s necklace.
“That Kara girl was strangled, right?” Mack asked, and Ryder nodded.
“Maci was strangled twelve years ago, right around the time the first victim of the String Strangler was reported. Kara was strangled with a thin ligature,” Ryder muttered as if thinking out loud.
“Maci’s pendant was found in the estate that Kara said she was going to visit.
But we found no string.” He stopped abruptly and stared at me.
“The string. The string of the necklace was a braided nylon cord. A black, strong cord.”
Mack shook his head in disbelief. “The Strangler’s been using Maci’s necklace to strangle his victims.”
“Maybe he took them all to Hollow Hill,” I said slowly. “Maybe that’s his murder den. Maybe that’s why the pendant was there.”
“Where is the pendant now?” Roman asked.
“McCord has it. Said he’ll scan it for prints. Can you keep a bead on the reports that come through his desk?”
Roman nodded. “Not a problem.” He shifted back to the laptop. “The report we just talked about is in your email. I hated being the one to tell you this.”
“Show me exactly where it is in the report.”
As Ryder and Roman hovered over the computer, Mack nodded at me, beckoning me to the corner of the room with him.
“Louise—can I call ya Lou?”
“Sure.”
“Lou, I don’t know much about you, but I know that my boy here has taken a liking to you.”
I frowned. “Your boy has an interesting way of showing it.”
“He’s out of practice.” Mack grinned. “But you’re still in the house, aren’t you?
Hell, we’ve never even been in this house before.
He’s never invited us. My point is, he’s made it clear that me, Justin, and Astor aren’t welcome here.
He doesn’t know Roman, so that one makes sense, at least. But he likes you.
He’s protective of you. I can see it, and so can Justin.
And I need you to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.
” A crease formed in his tanned forehead.
“I don’t know this Ryder. But I still love him. Take care of him, will ya?”
“Ryder’s not good at taking orders.”
Mack laughed. “Ryder took orders from Astor and the government for years, no questions asked. He’s just a bit out of practice. He’ll listen to who he respects.”
The words hit me like a brick. He’ll listen to who he respects.
Mack slapped me on the back, sending me stumbling forward. “And keep your head on a swivel, little lady. Nothing good comes from hunting a serial killer. Alone, anyway.”
Ryder, appearing out of nowhere, clamped a hand on Mack’s shoulder. “Something I can help with here?”
Mack grinned at me. “Protective, see? Possessive too.” He turned to Ryder. “Nope. Not a thing.”
Ryder stepped next to me, blocking Mack.
“Guess that’s my cue.” Mack nodded at Roman. “Let’s hit the road.”
Our attention was pulled to a sudden chorus of knocks at the front door.
Mack cocked a brow. “Is Mr. Social here having a party we don’t know about?”
Frowning, Ryder looked at me. Another knock came, and when I shrugged, he strode across the living room and pulled open the door.
A minute of silence ticked by, and then I heard…
“Um, is Lou here?”