32. Ridley

32

RIDLEY

I watched the thoughts and emotions play across Colt’s face like a movie on one of those drive-in screens. He didn’t hide a thing, not this time. He let me see as he put the pieces together in his mind, as he realized what could have happened to his sister. In some dark part of his mind, he already knew. But this made it more real.

“Twenty-three? You’re sure?” The questions didn’t feel like a challenge, but rather that Colt didn’t want them to be true.

I nodded. “That’s what I’ve been able to find anyway. I don’t have access to any of those handy databases you law enforcement types have, so it takes me longer to research?—”

“How?” Colt cut in before I could nervously ramble anymore.

“How did I research?”

“How do you know they’re connected?”

I finally released my hold on the plastic fork. Little lines were carved into my fingers and palm from how tightly I’d been holding the thing. This was it. Where I laid out my case and told him everything. Where I hoped like hell he’d believe me, unlike the law enforcement I’d tried to convince before.

Taking a deep breath, I did the only thing I could. I began. “All of the victims were blond. Ages sixteen to twenty-four.”

Colt’s dark eyes cut to me. He didn’t voice his doubts or tell me that wasn’t enough, but I could feel them. So I pressed on. “All athletes, but not just any athletes—the stars. Ones who won state championships or received awards.”

Colt leaned forward, setting his takeout containers on the edge of the deck railing. The hook had caught hold. He was really listening now.

“They were all incredibly good students, recipients of scholarships, on every kind of honor roll.”

“All high achievers,” Colt said, pulling the strands together.

I nodded. “Every single one was a member of the National Honor Society.”

That had him jerking straight. “Have you?—”

“Looked at every person at that organization who might have access to those kinds of records?”

Colt’s brows twitched. Not in amusement exactly but maybe surprised admiration.

“Yes,” I went on. “I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but as far as I can tell from deep-diving their social media and getting a little help from a hacker friend?—”

My words cut off as Colt scowled. “You know anything that hacker gives you is fruit from the poisonous tree.”

I scowled right back. “My contact is a good dude. A white hat. He’s just trying to help.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s a good dude . It’s not anything we can use.”

“Well, we don’t have to, because what he found cleared all three of the people still on my list.”

Colt sighed, sitting back in his chair and staring out at the water.

I’d already laid a heavy load on his shoulders, but I knew I had to keep going. Colt needed to know everything. “Every victim was taken from somewhere near a school campus or practice facilities. I’ve watched him evolve. He started with kidnapping and sexual assault, leaving his victims with fuzzy memories in places they didn’t recognize.”

Colt’s jaw went so hard I could see the bone pressing against his skin, just trying to break free.

“Then he started to hurt them even more.”

Colt’s fingers latched on to the arms of his chair, knuckles bleaching white.

“He discovered he had a taste for it. The pain and torture.” My stomach roiled, and I tried to detach myself from the words I was saying. But I couldn’t quite get there. “Then he started ending their lives altogether.”

Colt turned to face me, and his dark eyes would be burned into my mind forever. So much pain in those fathomless depths. So much need to make things right. “They never found your sister.”

“No,” I croaked. “There are victims on my list they never found. But there are more they have. Survivors and bodies. Enough to put the pieces together. But no one would listen.”

Colt frowned, little lines bracketing his mouth amidst the scruff. “You took this to law enforcement?”

I couldn’t help but scoff. “I’ve taken it to six local PDs, three state police forces, and even pled my case to the FBI. They all thought I was some little girl grasping at straws.”

His jaw worked back and forth as if he were trying to loosen it, to force the tension to release. “You have files on all of these cases?”

“What do you think?”

“That you’re not an idiot,” Colt muttered.

My lips twitched. “So he can learn.”

I was hoping for a chuckle, one of the ones that felt like warm grit skating over me. But Colt wasn’t there. Not now. “Get the files, Chaos. We’ll work in the dining room.”

A buzz lit beneath my skin, hope that just maybe he believed me. I was moving before I could stop myself, heading back to Bessie and unlocking the drawer that held all my secrets. The stack of files barely fit in my arms, but I managed it.

As I headed back to the house, I found the front door open. An invitation. I just hoped like hell it was one I would be glad I’d accepted.

I moved inside, shutting the door behind me. I wound my way to the dining room, where a long gleaming table sat in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. But not even the gorgeous view could distract me now.

Colt was there, and he’d brought our food inside. There were plates now. Sodas to go with the meal. And there was a stack of office supplies—highlighters, legal pads, pens in an array of colors.

He looked up, hair looking just a bit unkempt, as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly. “Tell me where you want to start.”

“With Avery,” I whispered. “You should start where I did, so you can follow the points I connected.”

“All right.” Colt pulled out a chair for me, and we began.

Everything came in fits and starts. Colt asked countless questions, ones I had answers to and ones I’d never even thought of. We approached things from different angles. Colt’s was precise and measured. Mine was a little wilder, running on instinct. But the processes complemented each other somehow, each one filling in blanks that the other had left open, finding a few more of those missing pieces.

We talked for hours, long after the sun had sunk beneath the horizon. Papers and files had started to be organized in a timeline across the dining table. And when we finally finished, Colt sat back in his chair and stared at it all.

I didn’t say a word. Simply let him process everything.

But the wait killed. I couldn’t read Colt’s face now. He’d turned inward, that impassive mask slipping over his features.

“Will you stay here?” he finally asked.

My brow furrowed. It was the last thing I’d expected to come out of his mouth. Maybe I’d hoped for him to shout Genius! or worried he’d tell me to take a long walk off a short pier. “What do you mean?”

Colt’s gaze lifted from the papers, and he turned to me. “Tell me you’ll stay here. I’ve got an alarm system and a dog that, while old, will definitely tell you if someone’s here who shouldn’t be.”

Something shifted, some slight rearranging in the cavity of my chest. Colt was worried. About me. It didn’t feel like the controlling machinations of my parents. Or even his interfering from the past few weeks. It felt like warm honey spreading over me. Someone wanting to know if I was okay.

“If I stay, will you help?” It was a barter, and I knew it. But I wasn’t above striking a deal.

Those dark eyes of his swirled with different shades of shadow. “I’ll help, Chaos. But you are going to stay safe. No more putting your ass on the line.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Colt shut me down with a single look.

“We aren’t taking chances. Not with you. Not ever.”