Chapter 18

"When we have graciously endured every adversity, we become like a shining diamond."

–Lailah Gifty Akita

Rayne

I practically glided into my office the next morning. My body was still buzzed from its multiple releases the night before thanks to Jameson. We'd stayed awake all night together, talking about the case, about our lives, and, sometimes, not talking at all.

I'd never felt so much for someone so quickly before. There were times I felt as if he was already a part of me. Like he could understand everything I didn't say out loud.

The only other person in life I felt that instant connection with was Aria. She was my soul sister. What did that make Jameson?

When I stepped into my office, I pretended not to notice the few things that had moved. To help me keep track of whenever someone went through my files, I had cleaned most of the clutter from my desk.

I logged into my computer and opened the camera app that I'd installed the day before. The small hidden camera in my office wasn't technically authorized. I hadn't even told Randy about it. Not that I thought he was the one going through my stuff.

I sat back as I watched Abe Sterling enter my office using a set of keys at one in the morning and start going through my files. Where had he gotten a set of keys from?

Glancing out my door, I pulled up the schedule and matched Abe's work times with each time someone had messed with my files.

There were a few discrepancies in the schedule, but then again, most of us came and went when we wanted.

I began to wonder why a man who had been a police officer at the precent for over three years would hinder my investigations.

I pulled up his information in our system and scanned his work details and history. He'd been reprimanded a few years back but nothing more. After hitting a roadblock, I changed to his social media pages.

For the next few hours, I scanned every post, video, and photo. I would have missed it had Nadia Monroe not been fresh on my mind, but when I saw her in the background of one of Abe's photos, I froze on it.

Once again switching gears, I pulled up Nadia's social media posts and arrest records.

By the time I headed to Randy's office, I was positive the two were either romantically involved or at least hanging out in the same circles. Which meant Abe was in tight with the Reapers.

When I got to Abe's empty desk, I sat down and pretended to make a phone call. No one in the office even glanced in my direction as I pretended to look for a pen in his desk drawers.

Feeling frustrated upon not finding anything that stood out, I continued to Randy's office.

"Got a sec?" I asked, poking my head in his office. I was slightly surprised when I realized he wasn't alone.

A very attractive black woman sat across from Randy. The pair appeared to be waiting for me, which was very odd.

"Good, you're here. I was just going to send for you. Have a seat." Randy motioned to the empty chair.

I shut the door and sat next to the woman. I remembered seeing her before but couldn't put my finger on where.

"This is DEA Supervisory Special Agent, Jasmine Thompson. Jameson is one of hers," Randy said with a nod. "She's here on official business."

I nodded my understanding. "How can I help?"

"We're getting ready to make our next move and I just wanted both of you to know that it might get a little messy," Jasmine said, glancing between us.

"How messy?" I asked.

Jasmine leaned back in her chair. "Enough that you, Officer Rayne, may have to make some spur-of-the-moment decisions. Think you can do that?"

"Yes ma'am," I said quickly.

The woman's eyes moved over my face for a few seconds. "I can understand what he sees in you. After talking to your father, I know you'll do what you must. My advice, when the time comes, is to stand your ground. No matter what."

I nodded again in understanding, but I wondered silently if she meant about the job or about Jameson.

If Jameson was almost finished with his job, would he leave Gemsville after or stay like he'd hinted?

"What's your timeline?" Randy asked, as if sensing the question in my head.

The woman shrugged slightly and turned back towards him. "It's not up to me to make this move. I'm just here doing the warning." She stood up.

"Thanks." Randy stood up and shook the woman's hand.

After she left, I turned to him. "She could have called instead of coming down here," I suggested.

"There were… other reasons she did this in person," Randy said, sitting back down.

"Such as?" I asked, sitting down again as well.

"Honestly, I think she just wanted to meet you," Randy said, running his eyes over me. "From the sound of it, you've made quite an impression."

What had Jameson told his SSA about me? I ran that question through my head for a moment.

"Someone's been breaking into my office," I said, changing the subject suddenly.

Randy's eyebrows rose. "Any idea…" he started, but I set my phone down on his desk with the frozen image of Abe standing at my desk on it. "Son of a…" Randy finished. His eyes moved from my phone to the door.

"You can't say or do anything." I broke into his thoughts. "Not yet."

"This is my house," he added.

"And it's the long game I'm looking at," I said, leaning forward. "I need to know why."

Randy was quiet for a moment before he nodded slowly. "It's your game." He handed my phone back to me. "What do you need?"

"Information," I said, tucking my phone back into my pocket. "Everything you have on Abe."

Randy nodded and turned to his computer.

For the next half hour, we ran through Abe Sterling's background. He'd joined the precinct three years before. Even though his family was well established in the area, for a few years after he'd graduated high school he'd worked odd jobs, including at the junkyard and an auto parts store. Then he'd attended the academy and become a low-level beat cop.

He'd worked the night shift for the first year and switched partners a few times. He had been partnered with Quincy over the last few months.

"That's one I never trusted." Randy frowned.

"Who? Quincy?" I asked. When he nodded, I chuckled. "That's because you don't trust anyone I've dated."

"True," he agreed. "This Jameson, I'd like some time with him again."

My smile slipped. "Don't go there," I warned. "We tried to steer clear of one another. It didn't work out."

Randy laid his hand over mine. "It's my job to go there. Still, the man's background came back clean."

"You ran him?" I asked. I shouldn't have been surprised.

"I run every man who looks at you," Randy joked. He turned slightly to me after shutting down his computer screen. "There's nothing here. No answers. What's your plan?"

I cocked my head and thought. "Not sure yet," I admitted after a moment. "Whatever it is, I'll try to keep you in the loop."

Randy nodded. "Your mother would love to have you over for dinner, but to be honest, the last round of chemo has her too tired. Since Carolyn had to go back to Florida last week, I think your mother is feeling lonely now."

"I was going to stop by after work today," I told him. "I have some lotion that Aria wanted her to try that I need to drop off."

I left his office and headed down the street for another sandwich. Suddenly, I was in a foul mood. I needed to know Abe's game. Was he working with someone or was he just trying to wiggle his way into my case work? I doubted that.

I didn't see Abe as the astute kind. I doubted the guy could find his car in a crowded parking lot, let alone solve a murder.

I stood in line at the sandwich shop and, instead of looking down at my phone like everyone else was doing while they waited, I glanced around the place. I doubted the old black-and-white tiles had ever been changed out. Many of them were worn through so you could see the cement floor underneath. The countertops were just as worn. Still, they had purchased new refrigeration cabinets to house all their meats and cheeses. And everyone in town knew that their bread was made fresh daily.

The couple that owned the shop, Hillary and Steve Klein, were old friends of Randy's and Edith's. They attended the same church and Hillary was probably Edith's closest friend, which is why I frequented the shop as much as I could.

I was raised to know the importance of supporting small local businesses and friends. When Jackson Pennington had moved into town, everything had changed. They way he threw his money around caused some smaller businesses, those ma and pa places, to go under.

While I waited for my Reuben on rye, I glanced up to see Wyatt Taylor having a heated conversation with Clara in the back corner.

When I saw Wyatt grab Clara's arm, I marched across the shop and stood at the edge of the table.

"You might want to carefully consider your next move," I told Wyatt in a low voice. His hand instantly dropped from Clara's arm as his eyes narrowed.

"Stay out of this, Rayne," Wyatt hissed.

"Make me," I said, feeling like an empowered child.

How many times had I wanted to tell both of those boys off? Hell, what I wanted to do was shove my fist through their perfect noses. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest slowly as he glared up at me for a few seconds.

"This is over," he told Clara. He jerked his chair out and stormed out of the shop.

"Thanks for that," Clara said with a sigh. "I knew the Taylors had a temper, I had just hoped Wyatt was different."

Had Wyatt just found out about Clara and Quincy? There were rumors the two had been seen several times around the office. It was bound to get back to Wyatt sooner or later.

Nodding my reply to her, I turned as I heard my name called and walked over to grab my sandwich.

Normally, I would have eaten there, in the shop, but suddenly I was in an even fouler mood, so I took my drink and food to the park to eat alone.

I didn't want to be around anyone at the moment.

I found an empty park bench by the little pond full of ducks and sat under a large oak tree and downed my sandwich.

I was so deeply invested in running through suspects and plots that I hadn't heard anyone approach me.

"How can you eat when it's so hot out?"

I turned to see Faye Baker sitting down on the other end of the bench. She was wearing a black ball cap, gray sweat shorts, and a blue tank top with running shoes. Obviously, she'd been out for a run.

"How can you run in this heat?" I shrugged and took another bite.

She sighed and leaned back a little. "Evie was about to break things off with Declan."

I set my sandwich down and turned towards her. "You know this firsthand?" I asked slowly.

Faye nodded slowly. "She told me about an hour before…" She pulled something out of her short pockets. "She wanted you to have this." Before she handed me the small piece of paper, she glanced around. "I think it's why she was killed. For the record, I don't think Declan killed her. I could get in a lot of trouble for talking to you," she said, still glancing around.

I took a moment and looked around. I'd picked this spot because it was secluded. From here, I couldn't see anyone else and, thanks to the large oak tree, no one could see us.

"I think we're okay for now," I said, taking the note from her fingers, noticing that they shook slightly.

"I know you care. I mean, about who did that to Evie. I know you'll get to the bottom of who killed her. I hope this helps." Before I could say anything else, she jumped up and took off running towards the walking bridge.

I waited a few heartbeats before opening the note.

"You have rats in your house and the king rat is more powerful than you think. Aim high, Detective Rayne. Thanks for sticking up for me. -Evie P.S. I swear on my son's life that it wasn't Declan that attacked me."

Shit. Why in the hell was I just now getting this? I remembered Evelyn telling me about rats. Why had I just now remembered that? She'd warned me someone in my house was dirty. Abe. Who else?

For the rest of my break, I ran names through my head.

Since Abe's current partner was Quincy, and I knew he'd been poking his nose in my business already, he was top of my list. Who else? Shit.

"Aim high."

What did that mean? Was she saying that someone high up in the precinct was corrupt or was she talking about Henry Taylor?

By the time I walked back into my office, my head ached and I was too hot to finish my food. I downed the rest of my iced tea and sat at my desk until I cooled off.

I poured over the details of Evelyn's case. Hitting a wall, I turned back to Sharon Taylor's murder case. The image of both women's lifeless bodies flashed through my mind. The contrast between the cases. The similarities. Everything was a stark reminder of the brutality that had robbed them both of their lives.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled up the autopsy report, the words blurring together as I read through the gruesome details. Sharon had been stabbed multiple times, the wounds inflicted with a precision that spoke of cold-blooded intent. Each gory detail was etched into my memory, a constant reminder of the horrors that lurked just beneath the surface of our seemingly peaceful town.

I traced my finger along the lines of the report, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of the evidence before me. Every detail mattered—from the angle of the wounds to the type of weapon used—and I was determined to leave no stone unturned in my quest for justice.

But as I delved deeper into the report, a sense of frustration began to gnaw at the edges of my mind. Despite my best efforts, there were still too many unanswered questions, too many loose ends that refused to be tied.

With a frustrated growl, I pushed back from my computer, rubbing my tired eyes as I tried to shake off the feeling of defeat. Sharon Taylor's murder was a puzzle with too many missing pieces, and I felt as if I was running out of time to put them together.

But I was stubborn and refused to give up. With renewed determination, I grabbed a cold soda and sat back down. Squaring my shoulders, I dove back into the case file, ready to fight for justice with every ounce of strength I had.

As I once again sifted through the details of Sharon Taylor's autopsy report, my mind couldn't help but scan through the list of suspects.

At the top of that list was Henry Taylor, Sharon's husband, whose motives were as murky as the waters of the bayou. Henry's tumultuous relationship with Sharon was no secret, marked by years of infidelity and betrayal. Could his rage have boiled over into violence, leading him to lash out in a fit of jealousy or rage?

Everyone in town knew of the Taylor men's violent tendencies. They were bullies, each and every one of them. Today's little scene at the sandwich shop was proof of that.

Next on the list were Wyatt and Beau, whose troubled pasts had left them with more than a few skeletons in their closets. Both men had their fair share of run-ins with the law, and their volatile tempers made them prime suspects in Sharon's murder. But were they really capable of such a heinous act, or were they simply victims of circumstance?

And then there was Faye, Henry's mistress, whose tangled web of lies and deceit had ensnared us all. Faye's connection to Henry was undeniable, but her true motives remained shrouded in mystery. Had she played a role in Sharon's murder, or was she simply a pawn in a much larger game?

As I pondered the tangled web of relationships and secrets that surrounded Sharon Taylor's death. I remembered the encounter with Faye at the park.

"She…wanted you to have this. I think it's why she was killed." Faye had looked scared.

Evelyn, Evie, had been brutally run down in the alley a block behind her work. Why?

I took out the note and scanned over the simple handwriting. Was this really from Evelyn? It sounded like her. The use of the word rat, which she'd used in the alley that day I'd gone to the bar to talk to Faye.

As I re-read Evelyn's final words, a chill ran down my spine.

Could her death be connected to Sharon's murder or was it simply a tragic coincidence? With each passing moment, the list of suspects grew longer, and the truth seemed further out of my reach.

I worked on both cases, going over every note I had until my eyes blurred. My headache grew with each moment I stared at the computer screen. I decided to clock out an hour before I normally would have and head over to drop off the lotion to Edith.

Since it was still boiling hot out, I pushed my Jeep's AC to the limit while I drove across town.

I walked into the house and called out that I was there. I instantly knew something was off when I didn't get a response.

Stepping into the enclosed sunroom, I gasped when I saw Edith on the floor, her body lying in a small heap. Dropping down beside her, I felt for a pulse with shaky fingers.

She was pale, the whitest white I'd ever seen. Her wig had fallen away and was lying on the floor next to her. A cup of tea had tipped over and, as I knelt beside her, I felt how cold the spilled liquid was. Which meant she'd been like this for a while.

"Please," I said out loud, my voice a whisper in the room. "Not her," I said as I searched desperately for any sign of life.