Chapter 59 Ryder
RYDER
Ipaced the living room like a caged animal, fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. The cops were gone. The questions had stopped. The sirens had faded.
And now the silence roared louder than ever.
Louise was gone.
I should’ve been focused on the investigation. On the questions that hadn’t been asked yet. On the fact that I might be a suspect in another murder. But I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t focus on anything except the echo of her voice in this house. The cold she left behind.
I moved to the kitchen, running a hand through my hair, picturing her there.
Where she’d stood next to me just last night, laughing softly, slicing tomatoes, trying to smooth over the awkward chaos of strangers in our home.
Where she’d dealt with my neurosis, handled everything, and calmed me. Where she was my anchor.
Now she was gone, and all I could feel was the sharp edge of her absence, cutting deeper with every breath.
I ground my teeth as I turned in a slow, aimless circle, my gaze catching on the library. Where I’d told her everything. About the missions, the prison, the ghosts that kept me up at night. She hadn’t flinched. She hadn’t run.
Instead, she’d reached for my hand.
Then the hallway. The observation room. Where we’d made love like the world might end before morning.
There’s still hope, she’d whispered.
I’d believed her then. Now? Now I felt like a fool. My carefully planned environment had been tossed on its head. My future up in the air.
Jessica had bagged Margie’s body for the morgue, where it would wait for autopsy. Jessica told me that she didn’t have the fingerprint results from the pendant, but she would soon.
When I asked if she’d seen Lou at the station, Jessica told me that Austin left alone in his truck while Miles and Lou left together.
I didn’t like it. But what could I do? McCord told me not to leave town—no surprise there—and to expect at least one more visit from the cops, and another from the FBI.
I was advised to stay home and not go anywhere.
My hands were tied. The chief had made sure of that. I was under a microscope again—like prison all over again. Watched. Judged. Waiting for the other boot to drop.
I never should’ve let her leave in the first place. I should have chased her. Should have told her she was wrong. That she wasn’t a hurricane—she was the only calm I’d known in years.
Instead, I’d stood there, letting her go. Like a coward.
I picked up my phone again. Her name stared back at me, burning a hole through the screen. Ten times I’d picked it up. Ten times I’d nearly pressed that green button.
Maybe Louise was right. Maybe she wasn’t good for me.
Or maybe I just wasn’t brave enough to fight for her.
I closed my eyes and exhaled through my nose, trying to level the storm inside me. But it didn’t help.
Because no matter what the cops found… no matter what the FBI asked… no matter what the world thought I’d done…
The only thing I could feel was her walking away.
And it gutted me.
The woman had me. My heart, my soul. From the moment she turned around in that library, she had me. I just didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
You should have chased her.
I shook my head.
“Stop, Ryder,” I muttered to myself.
I couldn’t spin like this. It wasn’t productive. It would drive me insane.
What would Old Ryder do?
I couldn’t keep spinning like this. It wasn’t just unproductive—it was dangerous. If I let my mind spiral any further, I’d break something. Or someone.
What would old Ryder do?
Old Ryder wouldn’t pace around like a prisoner in his own damn house. Old Ryder wouldn’t sit in the dark, wishing for someone to save him.
Old Ryder would make a plan—and act on it.
My gaze slid to the laptop across the room. If McCord and the feds wanted to sideline me from the official investigation, fine. But I’d never needed a badge to track monsters. I could work behind the scenes. In fact, that’s where I did my best work.
I crossed the room in three long strides, sat down, and powered up the machine. My heart thundered like a war drum in my chest.
First, I pulled up the folder Roman had compiled for me from BSPD—the entire file on Maci’s homicide.
I read it again, word for word, detail by agonizing detail.
There was no question in my mind: Maci hadn’t died alone.
Leon Ortiz was the one who took the fall, but someone else had helped.
There were too many loose threads. Too many details that reeked of a second presence.
Leon had been nineteen at the time. If his accomplice was close in age, that would put the second man in his early thirties now.
Roughly the same age as Louise. As Miles.
A chill prickled the back of my neck.
I clicked open another folder labeled Stills—a collection of screenshots and photographs I’d copied from Lou’s laptop while she was asleep one night.
I hadn’t meant to betray her trust, but I wanted to know everything she did, in case she bulldozed her way down a rabbit hole she couldn’t get out of.
The images loaded—dozens of shots of Hollow Hill. She’d been meticulous. Every corner of the decaying mansion captured in stark, moody light. She’d caught things I’d missed. Angles. Details.
Louise had an eye for this. She was extremely talented, no doubt about it.
But something itched beneath my skin as I flipped through the images. A sensation I hadn’t felt since my days running ops overseas. That nagging, inescapable feeling that the truth was right there, just beneath the surface.
And then—I saw them.
Buried among the thumbnails were a few crooked shots. Interior images of Lou’s 4Runner, taken at strange angles. Probably accidental. She’d told me she and Miles had driven into Berry Springs together. These must have been snapped while the car was parked.
I leaned in.
The background was familiar—a beat-up gas station just north of the last known search zone for Kara. But it wasn’t the location that grabbed me.
It was the contents in the back seat.
Lou’s duffel bag was in plain view, tossed beside another one—black leather, unzipped. My eyes narrowed. That bag must have belonged to Miles.
I zoomed in.
Clothes. Cologne. A condom. An open wallet.
Tucked halfway into the wallet was a wrinkled receipt. Tad’s Tool Shop. Dated four weeks ago. I zoomed again, clicking through the list.
Fishing pole. Tent. Lures. Lighters. Thermos.
And then—
Poly Tarp Blue Item 57392 – $12.99
I stilled.
Lou and I had found scraps of a blue tarp where Kara’s body was found.
My blood ran cold.
Kara had told her friends she was going camping with someone new. Four days after this receipt, she was found dead.
And suddenly, the pieces locked into place.
Miles. Around thirty. Friendly. Charming. Just a little too interested in Lou. Just a little too calm during all the chaos.
He hadn’t wanted to stay at my house. He hadn’t liked being in the woods.
Because he knew them.
He brought Kara here. He killed her. He’s the String Strangler.
And now—He had Louise.
My pulse exploded in my ears. The room spun as adrenaline surged like a fire through my veins.
She’s alone. With him.
I slammed the laptop shut and bolted to my feet. There was no more time to wait. No more rules to follow.
This wasn’t about suspicion.
This was about saving her before it was too late.