Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Annika

A nnika woke to the insistent buzz of her phone vibrating on the nightstand. Groggy, she reached out, fumbling for the device, her eyes barely open as she swiped to answer the call. The name on the screen pulled her fully into consciousness: Detective Frank Rossi.

"Frank?" she croaked; her voice thick with sleep as she sat up. Early morning light filtered through the curtains, making her blink. “Do you know what time it is?”

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I always forget about the time difference. I didn’t mean to wake you, but I wanted to get you before you got into the station." Frank's voice came through the line, steady and familiar. "I think I’ve got something big. I think you’re going to want to hear this."

Annika's heart rate quickened, the remnants of sleep vanishing as she swung her legs out of bed and stood. "What is it?"

“I’ve been going over those files you sent me, and something caught my eye. There’s a pattern here—similarities between the Kodiak murder and a series of unsolved murders along the West Coast. It’s not just the method of the killings, Annika. It’s the victims, the timing, even the locations. They’re not in the same city, obviously, but the kinds of places the killer uses are eerily similar. I think whoever did this may have been active for years.”

Annika’s pulse sped up as Frank laid out the details. This was the breakthrough she had been hoping for, the thread that could tie everything together. The idea that the murder in Kodiak wasn’t an isolated incident but part of a larger, more sinister pattern sent a thrill of urgency through her.

“Do you have names? Suspects?” she asked, grabbing a notepad from the nightstand and jotting down the information as Frank continued.

“There are a few names that keep popping up in the background—associates, business partners, people connected to the victims. One name in particular stands out: Peter Larson. He was a close associate of Carl Hansen’s, and he’s been linked to at least two of the other murders along the coast.”

“Peter Larson,” Annika repeated, the name settling heavily in her mind. “I’ll look into him. Thanks, Frank. This could be exactly what we need.”

“Just be careful, Annika,” Frank warned, his tone serious. “If Larson is involved, he’s dangerous. Don’t underestimate him. If he even suspects you may be on to him, your life could be in danger.”

“No problem,” she said, choosing not to tell Frank about the threat and the near miss. “The police chief is an old friend of mine and he’s working on the case with me.” Mentally she was already piecing together the puzzle and figuring out their next steps. “I’ll keep you updated.”

After ending the call, Annika quickly dressed, the rush of adrenaline propelling her through her morning routine. This new lead changed everything. If Peter Larson was their guy, it meant they were dealing with a serial killer—someone who had managed to fly under the radar for years, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake.

Annika’s thoughts immediately turned to Trace. He needed to know about this. She grabbed her jacket and headed out the door, her phone already in hand to text him as she made her way to the station.

Talked to my partner in Seattle. We may have a new lead. Need to talk ASAP.

Trace was waiting for her when she arrived at the police station, his expression a mix of concern and anticipation. She could tell by the set of his jaw that he had been thinking about last night—about the kiss they had shared and the interruption that had brought it to an abrupt end. But there was no time to dwell on that now. They had a killer to catch.

“Frank called this morning,” Annika said as soon as she reached him, her voice urgent as she took the mug of coffee he was holding for her.

“Let’s take this into my office,” he said, ushering her through the station and then closing the door once they were inside.

“Frank found a connection between Carl Hansen’s murder and a series of unsolved cases along the West Coast. There’s a name…” she looked through her notes, “…Peter Larson. He was close to Hansen and linked to at least two other victims.”

Trace’s eyes narrowed as he processed the information. “Larson… I know that name. He’s been in and out of the business world in Alaska and the Pacific Northwest for years, always skirting the edge of legality but never quite getting caught. If he’s involved in this, it makes sense why we’ve been hitting dead ends.”

Annika nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. “We need to dig into his background, see if there’s anything that ties him directly to the other murders. If we can find that link, we’ll have our suspect.”

“I’ll get the team on it,” Trace said, already reaching for his phone. “In the meantime, we should go through Hansen’s records again, see if there’s anything we missed that points to Larson.”

For the next several hours, they worked together in Trace’s office, their movements efficient and synchronized as they sifted through the evidence with renewed focus. The time passed in a blur as they pieced together the connections between Larson and the other victims, their list of suspects narrowing with each new discovery. The more they uncovered, the more certain Annika became that they were closing in on the killer.

But just as they were beginning to make real progress, Trace’s phone rang, cutting through the silence of their concentration. Trace answered it, his expression darkening as he listened.

“What happened?” Annika asked as soon as he hung up, her heart sinking at the look on his face.

“That was my niece, Tricia…”

“Sue has a daughter?”

Trace smiled. “Yes. She was the one who was giving us crap last night. Apparently, she told her mother. I’ve been dodging calls from my sister all morning. Tricia said the pub was vandalized last night,” he added, his voice tight with anger. “They left a message.”

Annika’s stomach clenched as she followed him out of the station and into his Range Rover. The drive to the pub was tense, neither of them speaking as they navigated the familiar streets. When they arrived, Annika’s breath caught in her throat at the sight.

The front of the pub was a mess. Broken glass littered the ground, and the door hung ajar, its hinges twisted from the force of the break-in. But it was the words scrawled across the wall in red spray paint that made Annika’s blood run cold: Leave it alone, or else.

Trace’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stared at the message, his jaw working furiously. Annika placed a hand on his arm, trying to ground him, but the fury in his eyes was palpable.

“They’re trying to scare us off,” she said quietly. “They know we’re getting close.”

“Damn it,” Trace muttered, running a hand through his hair. “This is my family’s place, Annika. They’re making it personal.”

Annika’s heart ached for him, the pain and frustration in his voice cutting through her own fear. “We’ll find who did this, Trace. But right now, we need to get this mess cleaned up and make sure no one gets hurt.”

After taking pictures of the damage and collecting evidence, they worked together with Sue, Tricia and several employees to clear away the debris and secure the damaged door as best they could. The process was slow, each task made more difficult by the weight of the warning that hung over them. But despite the tension, there was a sense of solidarity between them. She and Trace shared a similar determination to see this through, and they fell into a pattern and rhythm that seemed all too familiar.

As they worked side by side, Annika couldn’t help but think about how things might have been different—how their lives might have turned out if Trace hadn’t left for the military, if she had stayed in Kodiak instead of running off to Seattle. There was a sense of guilt that gnawed at her, a regret that they had lost so much time, so many opportunities to be together. She wondered if maybe fate had conspired to give them a second chance.

“Maybe if I hadn’t left,” Trace said suddenly, echoing her thoughts. His voice was low, filled with the same guilt and uncertainty that she felt. “Maybe if I had stayed, none of this would have happened.”

Annika paused, her hands stilling as she looked up at him. “It’s not your fault, Trace. We both made choices. We did what we thought was best at the time.”

“But was it?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. “Was it really the best choice?”

Annika didn’t have an answer. The truth was, she didn’t know. All she knew was that the past couldn’t be changed, and they had to live with the decisions they had made. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t make new choices about the future.

A heavy silence settled between them as they continued working, both lost in their own thoughts. The sun was beginning to set by the time they finished, the light casting long shadows across the now-cleaned pub. Annika wiped her hands on her jeans, her heart heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.

“Thank you,” Trace said quietly, breaking the silence. “For helping. For being here.”

Annika nodded; her throat tight with emotion. “You don’t have to thank me, Trace. I’d like to think we’re still friends—that maybe time has given us the grace to see the past differently.”

They stood there for a moment, the air between them charged with unspoken words, with the weight of their shared history. And then, as if unable to resist the pull any longer, Trace reached out, his hand brushing against hers. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she looked up at him, her breath catching at the intensity in his gaze.

“What did I tell you two about a room?” Tricia teased, making Trace’s sister laugh.

But just as quickly as the moment had come, it was overshadowed by the realities of their situation, by the danger that lurked just beyond the edges of their newfound connection.

“I should go,” Annika said, her voice thick with the effort of pulling away. “We’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

Trace nodded, his hand falling back to his side. “Yeah. We’ll catch up later.”

But as she turned to leave, Annika couldn’t shake the feeling that they had missed another opportunity, another chance to bridge the gap between them. The guilt and uncertainty lingered, a constant reminder of the choices they had made, and the consequences they were now living with.

That evening, after the sun had set and the town had settled into the quiet stillness of night, Annika found herself standing outside Trace’s house. She hadn’t planned on coming here, but after the events of the day, she needed to see him, to talk to him. There was too much left unsaid between them, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out.

She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest as she raised her hand to knock on the door. But before she could, the door swung open, and there was Trace, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—something that made her breath catch in her throat.

“Annika,” he said, his voice soft, as if her name was something precious on his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I needed to see you.”

Trace stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. “You’re always welcome here, Annika. I hope you know that.”

She stepped into the warmth of his home, the familiar scent of wood and earth surrounding her as she crossed the threshold. Trace closed the door behind her, and for a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of their unspoken words filling the space between them.

“I’ve been thinking,” Annika said finally, her voice trembling slightly as she struggled to find the right words. “About everything. About us. About what happened back then.”

Trace’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his gaze locking onto hers. “Me, too. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually.”

There was a pause, and in that moment, Annika felt the distance between them shrinking, the walls they had built around themselves slowly crumbling away. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she took the plunge.

“Maybe if things had been different,” she began, her voice unsteady, “maybe we could have?—”

But before she could finish, Trace closed the remaining distance between them, his hand cupping her cheek as he leaned in. His lips met hers in a kiss that was both tender and urgent, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt, everything he had never been able to say.

Annika melted into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer. The heat between them flared to life, burning away the doubts, the guilt, the uncertainty. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the feel of his body against hers, the taste of his lips, the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Trace rested his forehead against hers, his voice husky with emotion. “I never stopped loving you, Annika. Not for a single day. It nearly killed me when you wouldn’t take my calls, and you returned my letters and blocked me on email.”

Tears welled in her eyes at his words, the truth of them sinking deep into her heart. “I’m sorry. I was so young…”

“So was I.”

She nodded. “I know. I never stopped loving you, either, Trace. I tried to move on, but… I never really did.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, as the night stretched on around them, the outside world forgotten in the face of the love they were rediscovering. But even as the warmth of their connection surrounded her, Annika couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment of peace, of happiness, was fragile—like a bubble that could burst at any moment.

Because there were still so many unanswered questions, so many dangers lurking in the shadows. And while they had found each other again, they were also racing against time to solve the mystery that had brought them back together.

But for now, in this moment, Annika allowed herself to simply be with Trace, to hold onto the love that had never truly left them. And that was enough.

For now.