Chapter 22 #2
Marcus called Carver while Haven packed. He stood in her living room with the phone to his ear looking at the case timeline on the office door visible through the hall. He could see the velvet box with two coral nails and the note that he'd photographed from every angle.
He was going to move through this by the numbers because the alternative was him standing in Haven's kitchen and losing his ever-loving fucking mind, which was not useful to anyone, especially not to her.
Carver answered on the second ring.
He walked her through it. The package. The nails. The note. He read the note word for word and heard her take a breath when he got to She fought, but not as well as you.
“There's a victim out there somewhere,” he said. “Already positioned. Three fingernails missing. He kept the marker.”
“I'll put out a flag tonight,” Carver said. “Missing women, every city on the corridor, for the last seventy-two hours. Trail systems, isolated areas, edge land.” She paused. “If she's been found, we'll know. If she hasn't—”
“She will be,” Marcus said. “He doesn't make statements he can't support.”
“The note is a direct contact with the investigation,” Carver said. “He's never done that before.”
“He's never been called random before.”
Carver was silent for a moment. “He's escalating.”
“No. He's retaliating,” Marcus said. “There's a difference.
Escalating means the methodology is breaking down.
This is controlled. This is deliberate. He's angry, and he's making a point. Every element of this package was planned.” He looked at the kitchen table.
At the velvet box. “He killed a woman, took his marker, and sent Haven two of her nails.
That's not escalation. That's a message from someone who still believes he's in control.”
“Is he?”
Marcus considered the question he’d asked himself a hundred times in the past five minutes. “He made contact,” he said. “He's never made contact before. That's a crack.” He paused. “He’s told us Haven is still a target. He admitted that he’s fixated on her.”
“Haven,” Carver said. “She can't stay in that apartment.”
“She's packing a bag.”
Carver paused a moment. “How is she?”
Marcus looked through the hallway at the bedroom where Haven was moving as if she’d decided that efficient was the only gear available.
She'd been shaken when she'd read the note. He'd seen it in the way she'd reacted. Her hands had trembled, and her body had shivered. He’d felt that type of shock before. It was devastating and real. But she was managing the unmanageable. She was shaken, and underneath, he believed she was focused, angry, and that she was going to be unstoppable. The bastard didn’t know what he’d released in both of them.
“She's … Haven,” he said.
Carver understood that. “I'm sending a forensic team to her building tonight. Full sweep. Hallway, stairwell, doormat, street level access points.” She paused for a moment. “Marcus. He's studied her.”
“Her? Probably not, but he’s studied the sequence of his assault, and he’s read the media.”
“Do you think he’s going to go after her again after she got away from him?”
“He's been thinking about it since it happened.” Marcus's jaw tightened. “He's preparing for her specifically. That's what reevaluate means. He's adjusting his approach for her.”
A man who’d spent years refining a methodology that had never given him what he wanted was sitting somewhere right now, adjusting how he’d approach Haven Stone.
Running the variables. Planning the adaptation.
Preparing for a hip throw and whatever else she had that he’d encountered on the trail that morning.
Marcus felt something move through him that wasn't professional and wasn't analytical and wasn't useful for the investigation but was completely and entirely real. It was the primal need to protect the woman who’d become so much to him.
He was not going to let that bastard win.
That wasn't a professional, investigative conclusion.
It was a fact about himself that had been building since the morning he'd stood outside this building. Since he’d read her incident report six times and gotten out of the car because he was going to need her.
It had been building through every late night at the board and every bowl of chicken and dumplings at Lous.
Their connection grew with every moment they spent together, and it would continue to grow because anything else was unthinkable.
He was not going to let anything happen to her.
“We’ll wait for the forensic team,” he told Carver. “I want to ensure a full chain of custody. I want the package and note delivered to Guardian’s lab tonight. I’ll get them working on it immediately.”
“Done,” Carver said. “Where are you staying?”
“I'll send you the address when I know it,” he said. “I’m not going back to the hotel I’ve been staying at in case he’s been watching. I’ll have Guardian set up accommodations under a different name.”
“Be careful,” Carver warned.
“I always am. It’s that bastard who needs to be careful. He threatened Haven. That was his mistake.” That it was not acceptable didn’t need to be said.
He hung up before Carver could process the protective ownership in his voice.
Haven appeared in the doorway. Bag over her shoulder. Notepad in her hand. She was ready.
She looked at the kitchen table. At the velvet box. At the folded note.
“He thinks sending me her nails is going to make me afraid,” she said.
“Is it working?” he asked.
She looked up at him and with absolute candor admitted, “Yes … But not in the way he believes. I am afraid, but not of him. Missing something that lets him slip through our fingers is what scares me.”
He crossed the room and put his hands on either side of her face. “He studied what happened on the trail just like you have,” Marcus said. “He knows about the self-defense … your ability to defend yourself. He's adjusting for it.”
She closed her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”
“Which means he's been thinking about you specifically since the trail.”
Nodding, she swallowed hard. “I know that, too.”
“Haven.” His voice came out low and specific and not entirely professional. “I need you to hear me. Not as an investigator. But as someone who cares for you more than a leader of a task force should care about someone on his team … Hear what I’m telling you.”
She put her hands over his.
“I hear you, Marcus. I understand. I do. But I’m not going to lose it here. I can’t,” she said and closed her eyes.
He pulled her against him and kissed her, showing her the emotion he hadn't put into words yet. No, he wasn't going to put in words tonight because there wasn't time and because some things didn't need words.
She kissed him back with as much emotion as he gave her. The kiss ended, and she remained in his arms. This moment of time was for them. He needed to hold her, and she needed to be held. He heard heavy steps coming up the stairs. “That will be Carver’s forensics team.”
They waited until the forensics team finished processing her hall. While they were working, Marcus sat beside Haven, and they wrote their statements. They were doing this by the numbers.
He finished before Haven and called Guardian’s switchboard, still sitting beside her.
“Operator Two Seven Four. What can I do for you, Detective King?”
“I need a room booked under another name in Nashville. Monitored parking, with a good camera system on all sides of the building.”
“Of course. Let me connect you with logistics.”
It took about thirty seconds before another woman came on the line.
“Detective King, I have what you’re looking for, and I’ll send the address to your phone.
The room will be paid for when you arrive.
It will be under the name Christian Koehler as specified in your file.
The room is on the second floor at the end of the hall, next to emergency egress.
I have you there for a week. It’s a suite.
If you need it longer, just let me know. ”
“Thank you. I’ll need a new vehicle.”
“Certainly. Guardian or rental?”
“Guardian, the special kind.” Those vehicles were tanks and bulletproof.
He wouldn’t put it past the bastard to have acquired a gun.
He’d adjusted. He would adapt, and Marcus would be damned if he’d be caught by surprise again.
Haven looked up at him, the questions she wasn’t asking were plainly displayed in her expression.
He smiled at her before adding, “One more favor. I need clothes and a personal kit.”
“Of course. Are the sizes in your profile still valid?”
“Yes.”
It’ll be delivered first thing in the morning unless you need it tonight?”
“No, morning will be fine. Thank you.”
“Of course. Have a good night, Detective King.”
“Thank you.”
He disconnected, and Haven walked over to him. “We’ve been released. Forensics has my spare key. They’ll secure the apartment when they’re done.”
“Good, are you ready?” He took the bag.
“I am, but where are we going?”
“A new hotel, courtesy of Guardian.”
* * *