CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jan
The Perpetrator Revealed
The break in the case came from an unexpected source.
"There," Jennifer said, pointing at the screen. "That's the same car from the grocery store parking lot footage."
We'd been pulling surveillance from everywhere Bryony had been in the weeks leading up to the accident. And this car kept showing up.
"Run the plates," I said.
Jennifer typed rapidly. "Registered to a Timothy Watson. Address in Crescent Falls."
The name didn't ring any bells. "Pull his record."
"Already on it." Jennifer's eyes widened. "Oh, shit."
"What?"
"Timothy Watson. Forty-three years old. Multiple arrests for stalking. Restraining orders from three different women. He did two years for assault."
My gut clenched. "This isn't about Henrik or the mob. This is a fucking stalker."
"Looks like it. And Jan—one of his previous victims looked a lot like Bryony. Same hair color, same build."
"He fixated on her."
"And when she didn't respond the way he wanted, he tried to kill her."
We had our perpetrator.
We brought Timothy Watson in six hours later. He didn't resist arrest, which somehow made it worse. He just smiled at us, calm as anything, like he'd been expecting us.
In the interrogation room, he sat with his hands folded on the table, that same unsettling smile on his face.
"Mr. Watson," I said, sitting across from him. "Do you know why you're here?"
"I imagine it's about the girl."
"Bryony Mikelson."
"Is that her name?" He tilted his head. "She never told me. She was always so rude. Wouldn't even look at me when I tried to talk to her."
"When did you try to talk to her?"
"Oh, lots of times. At the grocery store. At the coffee shop. I left her notes, too. To let her know I was thinking about her."
"Notes that said 'I see you'?"
"Yes." He smiled wider. "I wanted her to know she wasn't alone. That someone was paying attention to her."
"And when she didn't respond the way you wanted, you decided to kill her."
"I didn't want to kill her," he said, sounding genuinely offended. "I just wanted to teach her a lesson. She needed to understand that you can't just ignore people. It's rude."
"So you ran her off the road."
"I gave her plenty of chances to be nice. But she kept ignoring me. So yes, I had to do something."
Jennifer leaned forward. "You do understand that you nearly killed her, right? She's in the ICU with severe injuries."
"Well, maybe next time she'll be more polite."
I wanted to reach across the table and strangle him. But I kept my voice level. "Timothy Watson, you're under arrest for attempted murder, stalking, and assault with a deadly weapon."
"I'd like to speak to my lawyer now," he said, still smiling.
We had him. Dead to rights. The evidence was overwhelming—the car, the surveillance footage, his own confession.
But as I walked out of the interrogation room, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over.
Because Bryony's brother was a mob boss. And mob bosses didn't wait for the justice system to do its job.
I pulled out my phone and called Luca Carmine.
"Detective," he answered on the first ring.
"We got him. The man who hurt your sister. His name is Timothy Watson. He's a stalker with a history of violence."
There was a long silence. Then: "Where is he?"
"In custody. He's going to trial, Mr. Carmine. He's going to prison for a long time."
"Good." Another pause. "Thank you for calling me, Detective."
"Mr. Carmine—"
But he'd already hung up.
I stared at my phone, a cold feeling settling in my stomach.
Luca Carmine had thanked me for the information. But I had a feeling he wasn't planning to let the justice system handle this.
And honestly? I couldn't bring myself to care.