Broken Bonds Boxed Set 1-3 (20 page)

“Obsession is a hell of a thing,” I say, and yank myself free of his grasp.

A muscle feathers along his jaw. Then his stern features shift, easing into a lighter expression. He clears his throat. “This is your turf. I get that. I’m the new kid on the block.” He smiles, but it’s forced. Not his usual, easy charm. “Just give me the respect of keeping me in the loop. I’ve put a lot into this…and I want to be the one to bring them in.”

My eyebrows knit together. “Them?”

Carson cocks his head. “I couldn’t get past Julian’s alibi before. So I had to drop it. I made one critical error back then; I was so focused on Julian that I failed to see that there were two killers, not one.”

An ache burns my throat. I push past the pain and say, “You think Julian had a partner. A killing team.”

He nods slowly. “Your profile missed that, too. But that’s okay. They’re really good at what they do. And I mean, who better to cover your back than your own brother? I know he has what I’m looking for.”

The air leaves the room, forcing my lungs to struggle for their next breath. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m stepping close to Carson and staring up into his face. “Have you told this inane theory to Quinn yet?”

He holds my stare. Licks his lips. “This
inane
theory is actually one of Quinn’s.”

And in a moment, all Quinn’s probing about teams and how they work comes back to me. He never quit testing the theory that there could be more than one killer; a team working together. He just wasn’t working that angle with me.

I back up, keeping Carson in my sight. “You have the wrong person,” I say, reaching behind my back for the doorknob. “If you bring Colton Reed in for questioning, you’re going to waste even more time. Your obsession with his brother just won’t allow you to see that.”

His eyes narrow as he crosses his arms. “Your profile lines up with Julian pretty well, Sadie. Once
you
see that, you’ll also realize you just didn’t think to profile a second killer.”

My mouth pops open to say more, but I force my lips closed. Wasted breath on my part, and I’ve heard enough from him. I shake my head and leave before I’m forced to do bodily harm to the prick detective.

As I make my way back toward my office, the page in my pocket feels hot, burning with the evidence of Colton’s inciting incident—the trigger that derailed him. In the hands of a detective like Carson, it’s damning evidence that could help build a case against Colton. Paint him as an accomplice in a murder.

But Carson doesn’t have all the specifics.

Critical details that bridge speculation and fact. Those variables construct an unbelievable, beastly reality that Carson could never conceive. He’s still too much of a rookie; unable to think outside the box. And although he’s twisted the profiles to meet his needs, his obsessive work did enlighten me on a possibility that I didn’t consider before.

I’ve been hunting for the UNSUB in all the wrong places. College, colleagues, unsolved serial cases. Though I was getting close, I wouldn’t have been able to make this leap without Carson. I finally have a real starting point to start digging. Although I know—from our rocky start—Quinn isn’t going to like this new angle. I need to get some tangible evidence before I bring it to him.

I grab my jacket and bag. After locking up, I leave the madness of the department behind, on a mission of my own disastrous making. In the hallway, I slip on my jacket and feel my burner phone vibrate against my hip.

I pull it out and light the screen. One missed call from Colton.

My heart stutters. Gripping the phone tight, I check the call time. Fifteen minutes ago, when I was ready to tear Carson apart. It’s like the universe is mocking me. Colton and I are connected so irrevocably that he doesn’t just know what I need; he knows when I need it.

I’ve been selfish. Colton offered me redemption and acceptance, and a safe haven to feel free. He said it was a power exchange. That what he gave, he took back equally, but that’s not entirely true.

I’m like a black hole. Sucking all the air and light from everyone around me. The only thing I will ever be able to offer him is pain. I knew this from the start, but I thought—just maybe—he would be strong enough to endure it.

He sets me free, and my love is fear. That is the true exchange between us.

As I push through the door to the M.E.’s lab, I know that I’m about to cause him even more pain. I’m going to rip his bandage away and reopen his wound. I just have to trust that
I’m
strong enough for him to break against.

Truth is the most brutal punishment. It forces us to learn who we are.

“Avery, I need your help.”

The M.E. spins around, a scalpel in her hand. “Jesus, Sadie. Try not to creep up on people when they’re holding objects of death.” She sets down the instrument and begins to pull a sheet over the body.

“Wait. Is that the riverbank vic?” I start toward her, but she holds up a hand.

“I’ve had a long night, Sadie. I just started the autopsy after finally getting the mother’s approval. I’m not ready to answer anything just yet.” She rolls off her gloves and combs her fingers through her long blond hair.

“I’m not here to harass. I know you’re working as hard as you can.” I lean against the table next to her. “The victim’s mother lives here?”

She cuts her eyes at me. “You can’t help it, can you?” I suppress a smile, and she sighs. “No. In New York, and I know it’s painful, but the autopsy is needed.”

With a soft groan, Avery turns around and pushes up the sheet to reveal the vic’s legs. “The bruising around her ankles is worse than around her wrists or any other part of her body. And when Quinn let me in on the decorative blood at the scene, I had a theory… But I need to finish my examination first.”

I allow my gaze to take in the dark, battered skin. The color is nearly black compared to the rest of her pale flesh. “She’s so white. She looks like a ghost.”

Avery’s eyebrows pull together. “Are you all right?”

I nod, waving her off. “Just tired. So you’re thinking she was exsanguinated.”

“Actually, yes.” She points to the marks again. “Probably strung upside down by her ankles, then the offender sliced her carotid. Her heart did all the work. She’s completely drained of blood.”

“Would that be enough to cover the grass at the crime scene?”

“I’m running tests on the samples brought in on the reeds, determining if it’s all the same blood type and a match to the victim’s. It’s possible he diluted her blood to make it stretch…or—”

“Or he drained more than one person to get his desired effect,” I finish.

She grimaces. “Go home, Sadie. Open up a bottle of wine, watch stupid reality TV, and get some rest.”

I glance at the time on my phone. “Almost nine. You going to take your own advice?”

She looks down at the body, then at me. “I have been feeling a little under the weather, but maybe I’ll just sleep in. I need to finish here.” She smiles, and it’s comforting. Proof that, in this world surrounded by death, I surround myself with the people who easily fit in to this dark realm. “What did you need?”

Peeking at my phone again, I glimpse Colton’s missed call. We’re supposed to meet in less than ten minutes, and I’m here—at the place I tried so hard not to go.

With a determined breath, I fill my lungs. Then I put my phone away and roll back my sleeve. Avery watches me with guarded wonder, but she doesn’t question as I grab a pair of scissors from her table and snip a thread from the rope.

I hand it to her, finally looking up to meet her curious eyes. “Please keep this between us. Quinn, and especially Carson, have no business knowing. This doesn’t concern them.”

She nods as she accepts the thread. “Okay, but just what am I looking for?”

I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “I need to know what kind of material it is. And I need to know its origin.”

“Shit, Sadie…”

“It may be nothing,” I assure her. “But, I need it compared with the ropes from every crime scene. If you can somehow make that happen soon—”

“I will,” she says, taking my hand in hers. “And whatever you’ve gotten yourself involved in, get out of it. I refuse to have you lying on my table. I will figure out a way to bring you back just so I can kill you if that happens.”

Her concern brings a smile to my face. “I’m beyond careful. I promise. I’m just…chasing a lead.”

“All right.” She releases my hand and places the sample of rope into an evidence bag. I watch with a heavy pressure bearing down on my chest as she seals it shut.

Carson was wrong about most of his theory, but unfortunately, he was also utterly right on one aspect: I did make a mistake on the Roanoke profile. There were two killers.

And the second killer is letting me know just how badly I fucked up.

“
W
e were advised
that you had a weapon.” The officer who clubbed me over the back of my head stands before me with his hands anchored on his belt.

“By who?” My anger ramps as I rub at the rising knot on my head. Not only am I surrounded by four of Arlington’s finest, but their interference prevented me from getting to Sadie.

I look around the cop, trying to see down the dark alleyway. I’m close to throwing a punch if he doesn’t get out of my way.

“We’re not at liberty to give you that information,” the cop says, eying me suspiciously. I was the one attacked, yet he’s treating me as if I attacked him. I need to get out of this. I need to find Sadie.

“Fine. You apprehended my cell phone—which is clearly not a weapon. I’d like to leave now. I’m still working.” I nod toward the club.

He says something into his shoulder mic, holding out a hand to stop me. Pissed, I lean back against the cop car, my gaze trained on the alley. It’s vacant. Like she just vanished.

I wipe my hand down my face, tension bleeding into every muscle. She could’ve come here for me, but then realized cops were watching the club. She fled before they made her. No. That doesn’t feel right. I’m searching for an excuse—because I can’t consider the other possibilities.

Still, there’s no reason to explain why she was dancing with that guy—the asshole that led her outside in the first place, to where the cops ambushed me. If I didn’t know better, and if I didn’t trust her…it almost feels like a set-up. That realization sets my skin aflame, blood firing through my heart blistering-hot.

I knew she would discover the truth. I just thought she’d come to me. Not put a stakeout on the club to apprehend me blindly.

All that doesn’t matter, though. Because she’s still out there. Somewhere with some guy. Where she’s being stalked. I can’t get that out of my head; I can’t see fucking straight about any of this because she’s out there where a fucking killer is stalking her.

The cop’s radio discharges an order to get further details and he opens the backdoor of his squad car. “We need you to come into the station and give a statement.”

This captures my full attention and I drop my hand, the pain forgotten. “I can give you that statement right here,” I say. I know my rights. And I know how this works. Bring me in on some bogus misunderstanding, and get me into an interrogation room where I could be held up to forty-eight hours.

Julian went through this. I avoided it because I ran. I called him a coward for not dealing, but I was the one who left. He stuck around to take the heat while I tried to forget. It’s possible my anger and fear blinded me to just how much of a coward I really am.

The cop to his right moves in closer, making my hackles raise. “It really would be best if you come with us to make your statement.”

A car door slams. Then, “I’ll take it from here, boys.”

I recognize the gruff voice before I even turn to see the detective. The one who came to my apartment with Sadie a week ago. I feel the impending inevitable slithering up my spine, forewarning me that this is it.

I wish I could’ve spent one more minute with my goddess. I should’ve worked up the courage to tell her myself, instead of letting it end like this. I have a mountain of regret, so this one, small wish shouldn’t devastate me—but it sits in my stomach like a fucking bolder. Dragging me to the depths.

“Mr. Reed, how are you doing tonight?” Detective Quinn asks as he shows me his shield to identify himself.

“I remember you,” I say. “And I guess I’ve had better nights.” I point to my head. “Your officers have a hell of an aim.”

His mouth twists into a crooked grin. “Sorry about that. This serial killer case has everyone a bit jumpy.” He nods to my bandaged knuckles. “What happened to your hand?”

I guess that doesn’t look good. “Club renovations,” I answer quickly.

Quinn looks at me for a long moment, sussing something out before he says, “Let’s take a ride. We’ll work out the details on the way.”

“Am I free to go?” I ask, knowing that this is the one thing he’s required to tell me. “Or am I being charged with something?”

His smile falls. “You’re free to go, but I strongly suggest you offer your cooperation for the time being.”

I smirk. Damn cops always needing my cooperation. I guess I owe them that much. They were very cooperative during Marni’s investigation. Just provide them with the right evidence, and they did the rest of the work.

Resigned, I follow him toward his car, the weight of my crime bearing down on me.

He opens the passenger-side door, and I don’t question why I’m getting special treatment over the rest of the criminals. I take a seat as he walks around the car.

Time passes in tense silence, thickening the air of the cab as he takes the scenic route to the station. The radio crackles to life, and he lowers the volume.

“There’s a detective waiting at the station to question you,” he says, startling the quiet.

I drum my fingers against my knee, my hand itching to get to my phone. “I assume he’s the one who came to the club earlier today looking for my brother.”

“Yep. That’s the one.” He glances over at me as he takes a right. “Carson’s had a lot of pressure on him lately. I’m not making any excuses for him. Just letting you know. This job wears on even the young detectives. You’d think they’d be able to handle the stress better then the old dogs, but they tend to get worked up pretty easily.”

“Why the warning, detective? Is there something I should be worried about?”

“Not if you don’t have anything you feel you should worry yourself over.”

His vague ramblings are putting me on edge. I go to reach in my pocket, then stop. Probably not the best idea to whip out a rope in his car. That has my thoughts right back on Sadie.

“Where’s your partner?” I ask.

Quinn glances at me with raised eyebrows. “Don’t have one. Oh, you mean Agent Bonds.” He sends me a smirk. “Got to you, did she? Yeah, she has that way about her. Gets right under your skin.”

My fingers curl into fists, and I grip my jeans to keep from reaching into my pocket. Or throwing a punch. I don’t think of myself as violent, but the ACPD is really trying my patience.

“She might be curious to know that you’re bringing me in,” I say, not caring that I’m giving away my Achilles’ heel. I just need to know that she’s safe. I need him to make that happen. “She was the one who first questioned me, after all. And she was really interested in me today. More so than Carson. Maybe you should call her. She seems like the type that doesn’t like to be left out of the know.”

The look he gives me borders on rage. “Stay the fuck away from her. Do you understand?”

Nerve struck. Looks like Detective Quinn and I share the same Achilles’ heel.

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his phone. Touches his screen. Then, “Bonds, where are you?”

My heart leaps into my throat. Just knowing that she’s on the other line—alive; safe—is enough to get me through the rest of this shit. I loose a tense breath, finally able to take my first full one since I saw her leave the club.

“No, that’s fine,” Quinn says. “Stay there. Just wanted to make sure you’re all right.” A pause where I’m desperate to hear her voice, then he says, “I want a report on my desk tomorrow, first thing, on what I asked for. No field work. Just bring your ass into the station and work on that.”

I grit my teeth, not at all liking how he talks to her. But I’m thankful we’re at least on the same page. If that’s what it takes to keep Sadie away from harm, then I’m grateful to the bastard.

He ends the call as he pulls into the police department. He parks and looks over at me. “Just between us, Colton, whatever pervy thing you and your brother have going on at that club…Agent Bonds is off-limits. You hear me?” His eyes widen as he drills home his point. “If I find out it’s been you or your brother fucking with her…” he trails off, letting his unsaid threat resonate. “Put it this way. I’m only a cop while on the clock. The rest of the time, I’m a man that will put a hurt on anyone who messes with my team.”

Despite the fact that his threat is directed at me, I appreciate his passion for wanting to keep Sadie safe. But there’s something else, a current of something sinister, just beneath all his macho bravado. It’s disturbing.

Holding his stare, I say, “I have no intention of involving Sadie in anything that will harm her.” And I mean every word. If my past has resurfaced to destroy me, then Sadie’s safest away from me. It’s a painful admission.

He doesn’t miss my intent by using her first name. His narrowed gaze drags over me slowly before he nods. “Be sure you mean that.”

Once we’re inside the department, I’m shuffled past a busy entrance with cops taking statements and led to an empty room. And that’s where I stay for thirty minutes before Detective Carson enters.

I’m past the point of breaking already. Half an hour spent imagining Sadie in some situation where I can’t get to her… If they wanted to break me, that’s all they had to do. Take away all communication and let me dwell on the worst. I’m willing to tell this asshole whatever he wants if it means this night will finally be over.

“Meeting twice in one day is never a good thing,” Carson says as he takes a seat at the table across from me. He loosens his black tie, looking like a bad cliché from a cop show. “I assume that if you didn’t know who I was before, then you probably have an idea now.”

“You’re the detective that followed my brother here.”

“I didn’t follow him. I followed the trail of bodies and carnage, Colton. It just happened to lead to your brother. And you,” he adds, “interestingly enough. I didn’t realize it at the time, but you also resided in Roanoke during the investigation of Marni Holloway.”

I open my mouth to correct him, but he holds up a hand. “Sorry. You resided there
prior
to
the investigation. You skipped town after her murder. Which was one of the most gruesome I’ve ever seen.”

Carson flips open a file and spreads the contents across the table. The grisly images reach right into my chest and stop my heart.

He sits there, watching, waiting to see my reaction. Or lack of one. I wonder if Quinn called in Sadie, after all. If she’s on the other side of the mirror right now, analyzing me. Providing insight for the others as she deciphers my every word and action. A disgusted expression marring her beautiful face.

I don’t have to look at the pictures; I know what they reveal. I haven’t forgotten. I see them in my nightmares. Marni’s naked body tied and bound. Strung up against her headboard. A rope noosed around her neck. She was strangled so hard her eyes bulged and bled red.

But I reach across the table and pick up a photo, anyway. I know it’s what he wants me to do. He wants me to
need
to relive her murder so badly that I can’t help but touch them. Marvel over them. Be back in that bedroom with her and recreate that moment.

I don’t need crime scene photos to remind me, though; I have never stopped reliving it.

“Take a look, Colton. Can you tell me who this is?”

“Don’t play that fucking game,” I grind out, forcing my gaze away from the image to meet his eyes. “I’m here on my own accord. So far, I haven’t been charged, so I know you don’t have anything solid or else I’d be cuffed and my rights already read. I’m being…what’s that word you like? Cooperative. So I’d appreciate it if you’d just cut the shit and make your point.”

A knowing smile curves his mouth. “Fair enough. That strangled victim in the photo—”

“Marni,” I correct him. I hate that word—she was never a victim.

“Marni,” he says, the smile leaving his face. “She was more to you than just your brother’s girlfriend, wasn’t she?”

“She was.”

“In fact, you and your brother once got into a heated argument over her at a club where he worked down in Roanoke. Witnesses said that the argument escalated quickly and became physical.”

My forehead creases as I study him. What the hell angle is he working? “I was in love with her, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

His practiced features give nothing away. “Love can make us do some fucked up things.”

This guy has no idea.

“Your brother produced an alibi,” he continues. “For some odd reason, an alibi that was never mentioned during his initial interrogation. It was sent to my department via his lawyer once he was released.”

“His girlfriend had just died, detective. I’m sure he was distraught.” And Julian was giving me enough time to get away by keeping the law busy. He never owned to it—we never once discussed what happened back then—but I didn’t have to ask. The same way he never had to ask me. It was an understanding between us.

Carson shifts in his seat, moving the crime scene images aside to rest his elbows on the table. “Maybe. But you know, I just find it really odd. I also find it odd that a woman you loved so much—who you were willing to fight your own brother over—suddenly dies…and you just leave. Poof! I mean, you didn’t even attend her funeral. Or offer your brother comfort during his distraught time. Human behavior, it’s the damndest thing. If my profiler was here, she might be able to offer some insight into your actions—but I’m not really interested in her thoughts.” He pauses, waiting to see if that gets a reaction. I concentrate on my breathing, suppressing the impulse to ram my fist in his face. “You know what I like more? Facts. Evidence. The hard, tangible things I can get a hold of.”

I stand, knocking my chair back with an audible screech. “I think my cooperation just ran out, detective. I’ll see myself out.”

Before I can make a move for the door, he’s on his feet and heading around the table. He pulls out an evidence bag with a length of rope curled inside. “I never filed this detail in my report.” He shoves the bag against my chest. “And there’s no one on the other side of that mirror. It’s just you and me.”

I wait, breath held, for him to drive home the nail.

“There’s one thing that links the serial killings here to the killings down in Roanoke, Colton. And it’s not the motive. It’s not the victimology. It’s not even the geographic aspect. It’s the flaw.” He backs up a step. “One overlooked detail by both sides, that when placed side-by-side, there’s no denying the connection.”