CHAPTER EIGHT #2
Standing on the sidewalk outside Petals & Stems, Miles felt the weight of two senseless deaths pressing down on him.
Sarah Morrison had died preparing lessons for kindergarten students.
Janet Reilly had died arranging flowers for church services.
Both had been targeted by someone who believed their normal business practices constituted chemical contamination worthy of death.
“The killer is moving fast,” Vic said, echoing his thoughts. “Two attacks in less than twenty-four hours means they have multiple targets identified and ready to hit. Those damned devices could already be planted in ventilation ducts all around the city.”
It was a harrowing thought, but it had crossed Miles’s mind, too.
Before he could comment, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was a text from Elena. And when he unlocked his phone, he saw that he’d missed two other texts and a phone call.
The texts were brief, but they indicated that she needed to speak with him to finalize a wedding detail.
“Shit,” he said.
His guilt returned with overwhelming force. While he'd been investigating fluorine murders and climbing into ventilation systems, she'd been wondering why he wasn't answering her texts.
“I need to call Elena,” he said quietly. There was no sense in putting it off any longer.
“Go ahead. I'll coordinate with local PD about the evidence transfer.”
Miles walked away from the crime scene activity and made the call. She answered on the first ring.
“Miles? Where are you? I've been trying to reach you for the past half hour. The stupid band called me and said they somehow got overbooked and now we need to get a backup quick.”
“I'm sorry. I'm working a case in Georgetown.” The word case seemed harmless enough, but it wasn’t one he used often. He knew she’d understand what he meant.
“A case?”
“Yeah. Sorry. It’s the—”
“Is it the elementary school thing? I saw it on the news and thought of you… a chemical attack, right?”
“Well, it is a chemical attack and it did start at the elementary school. But there’s been another one. At a flower shop in Georgetown. But that’s… damn, I shouldn’t have told you. I doubt it’s on the news yet.”
The line went quiet for a long moment. When Elena spoke again, her voice carried the careful control of someone trying not to explode.
“How are you? Is it… is it dangerous?”
“I mean, it’s chemical gas… fluorine. But I’m not in any physical danger, no. Just… for something like this, I need to be on the scene. And look, Elena, I should have called earlier to explain—”
“You should have talked to me before taking another case,” she interrupted. “We discussed this after San Francisco. You promised you'd focus on laboratory work and our wedding planning.”
Miles felt the conversation spiraling in the direction he'd been dreading. “I know what I promised. But this came up so fast. And people are dying, and I might be the only person who understands the connections between these attacks.”
“There are hundreds of FBI agents who can investigate murders, Miles. There's only one person I'm supposed to marry in five months.”
The pain in her voice was worse than any amount of anger. Miles could hear how much his choices were hurting her, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away from a case that might save lives.
“I love you,” he said quietly. “More than anything.
But I can't ignore this pattern of murders just because investigating them is dangerous or stressful.
No one is ready to admit it yet, but this all ties directly into my periodic table killer theory.
And if I'm right, this could be very big, Elena.
We could save countless lives and stop a madman. "
“I know. And I also know that I’d be a lot more understanding if this wedding wasn’t hovering over our heads. I just… it’s hard, Miles.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
“Do you think you’ll be home for dinner? We could talk it out then.”
He had no idea if he could manage to get home for dinner but he knew he had to find a proper balance. So he said, “Yes, I’ll be home.”
“Good. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The call ended, leaving Miles staring at his phone while crime scene technicians processed evidence.
Their conversation hung in the air like the chemical smell that had killed Janet Reilly.
He knew that at some point he was going to have to choose between the theoretical patterns that had consumed his thoughts for years and the woman who'd supported him through every professional triumph and failure.
As he watched Vic coordinate with local authorities, Miles realized he wasn't ready to make that choice. Not while innocent people were dying according to a twisted periodic table logic that only he seemed to understand.
But Elena was right to demand an answer. His investigation was destroying their relationship one case at a time. If he wasn’t careful, he might solve the elemental murders only to discover he'd lost the person who mattered most to him in the process.