Chapter 16

Southern Café, not far from Colonial Park Cemetery, bustled with people. The inside tables and booths had filled in the short time since they'd arrived, including the six tables enclosed by a black iron fence in front of the establishment. Not exactly what Jonah had had in mind for an intimate brunch, but then neither was Juliette sitting out on the patio for extra protection. With the exception of last night's quiet moment snuggling on the couch with Noelle, yesterday had scared the daylights out of him.

"Hey." Noelle waved a hand in front of his face. "Where'd you go?"

"Sorry. I'm a bit preoccupied." And not for the reasons one would think.

"Understandable. A lot has happened in a short time." She sipped her orange juice, then folded her hands on the table. "I've been thinking about all our suspects. It's confusing. I keep feeling like there's something we're missing. Or someone."

"Like who?" His gaze landed on Juliette, grounding him in the danger that continued to lurk.

"Someone close to my killer? Or maybe he went to prison and bragged to another inmate?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm grasping."

"No. It's worth considering." Jonah let the ideas simmer and took a sip of his dark brew. "Do you really think Congressman Sanford had anything to do with your abduction?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. But the age seems right. If it's him, then how could I not know?" She sighed and tugged on her three-quarter-sleeve blouse that covered a bright blue tank top.

He hated that his question had her retreating to her insecurity. He reached across the table, stilling her hand, and jutted his chin toward her arms. "I noticed you left your extra shirt on last night after our video chat."

She cringed.

"Don't."

She tilted her head. "Don't what?"

"Don't hide. Don't be ashamed. Take your pick." He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable. He only wanted her to see herself as he saw her. A beautiful woman inside and out.

"It's kind of hard with the evidence on my arms."

"You trusted me with your secret. You let me into your nightmare. Please, let me show you that your beauty isn't dictated by the white lines on your skin."

Tears pooled in her eyes. Her chin quivered. "Isn't it, though?"

Her quiet words had him straightening in his seat. Who had led this woman to believe her worth was linked to her looks? "Why are you so preoccupied with your appearance?"

The waitress chose that moment to serve their food.

He wanted to groan at the timing but refused to continue with the topic until their server left.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" The woman smiled.

"No. I think that's all." He thanked the waitress and returned his attention to Noelle. "So, why are you so fixated on your scars?"

She picked up her fork and played with the Denver omelet she'd ordered. "It's ingrained in me."

To lessen the focus on her, he took a bite of the strawberry banana pancakes he'd ordered. Once he'd swallowed, he met her gaze. "How come?"

Inhaling, she set her fork aside and tucked her hands in her lap. "My mother was—is—obsessed with flawless skin. My grandmother was a model, so looks were always a thing in my house. But when she died of skin cancer a month before I turned five, my mother changed. As a child, she'd remind me at every opportunity that I had to take care of my skin. I look back now, and at first it made sense. Use sunscreen to prevent cancer. Wash your face so you don't get acne when you get older. All the normal things. But at some point, it became more."

"How?"

She shrugged. "The typical superficial stuff. Any scar I got, she'd use whatever the hype product was at the time to make it fade. My skin became tied to my value as a person—as a potential partner in life."

The bites of pancake he'd consumed sat like a rock in his stomach. "That's not typical superficial stuff. Noelle, you have to know that isn't true."

She tapped her hand over her heart. "Here, yes." Then she touched her temple. "Here? Not so much."

Jonah closed his eyes and pondered what to say to the woman who had slowly claimed his heart. When he opened them, he glanced around the café, realizing he'd pulled his attention away from their surroundings.

As if Noelle had come to the same conclusion, she scanned the room.

Juliette still sat outside, pretending to focus on her phone. He knew she had their backs, but he hadn't paid attention to the people around them. Even though Noelle and Juliette were his bodyguards, he refused to put his safety entirely on them.

Convinced danger didn't lurk in the background—at least at the moment—he cleared his throat. "I don't want to drop this conversation. I think it's important to you—to us—but…"

"Let's stay focused on the cases for now." She sent him a pleading look.

"That works for me." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Do we have any other leads in either the current cases or the cold ones?"

"Not that I've heard. Decia texted me this morning saying that she has an officer taking a deeper look into Lincoln Sanford and Royce Dwight. Plus asking about the congressman's friend."

Plates and glasses crashed to the floor.

Jonah whipped his attention toward the noise. A man with a knife stumbled toward him and shoved the blade in his direction.

Noelle leaped from her seat and swung her hand at the guy's arm. The knife's trajectory changed, but not enough to miss.

A searing pain like a hot poker spread through Jonah's side.

The man pushed Noelle out of the way and ran out the front of the café.

"Jonah!"

He grasped his side, then lifted his hand. Blood covered his palm. The maniac had stabbed him.

"Call 911! Juliette, stay with him!" Noelle's commands brought him out of his daze.

He glanced up in time to see her sprinting from the café after the person who'd targeted him in a public place.

"Noelle, don't," he gasped.

Someone shoved a towel at him. He grabbed it and pressed it to the wound. "Juliette, go help her."

Juliette positioned herself as a barrier between him and the rest of the patrons. "She has the assailant. My duty is protecting you."

The idea of Noelle chasing down the suspect and getting hurt—or worse—scared the life out of him.

His heart cried out, God, please, I can't lose her too.

* * *

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Noelle sprinted down the tree-lined street toward the cemetery, wanting to kick herself for getting distracted. She'd allowed Jonah to draw her into the discussion about her mother and had forgotten, for a moment, the danger that prowled around them.

If the guy half a block in front of her hadn't bumped into the waitress, Jonah might be dead. A man around six feet, give or take an inch, a baseball cap pulled over his eyes, and dark sunglasses. That's all she had. Some former LEO she was. Yeah, Officer, he's your average Joe. Nothing discernable to make him stand out. Great, just great.

People jumped out of the way as the man pushed through the crowds.

"Coming through!" She pumped her arms, trying to catch up with the attacker. Her Glock sat comfortably against the small of her back. Her fingers itched to reach for it, but withdrawing it in the middle of the crowd would create more panic than already existed.

Sweat dripped down her temples and between her shoulder blades. Thank heavens for the shade trees and the slight breeze. Even in May, the humidity hung heavy in the air.

She spotted Jonah's assailant entering the cemetery.

Only two ways in or out. An advantage and a concern. Pushing her speed, she gained ground. She grabbed the fence post and launched into the graveyard.

The perp ran toward the back exit.

Noelle changed her direction, her new course intended to cut the man off. She leaped over grave markers, hating the disrespect of her action. She hoped those who'd gone before understood.

Thanks to Raven's fascination with weird historical facts, Noelle had toured the cemetery multiple times and had the layout committed to memory.

She ducked under the low-hanging Spanish moss, keeping her target in sight. Her breaths came in pants, but she continued to press on. She refused to let the man get away.

After exiting out the back of the cemetery, the guy dashed across the street.

She hurdled the last of the tombstones and followed him out the gate.

The man jumped on a tour trolley before the driver pulled away from the curb.

Noelle yanked her Glock from the small of her back and followed him on. "Stop!"

The passengers clapped at the confrontation, unaware that the showdown wasn't part of the scripted tour.

The attacker stood at the back of the trolley, the bloody knife used on Jonah held out in front of him.

The driver slammed on the brakes.

Noelle maintained her hold on her weapon and grabbed a seatback, steadying herself. The forced halt caught the suspect off guard. He dropped the knife and tumbled against the bench seat. His sunglasses flew to the floor.

Screams filled the air, the passengers now aware of the danger.

No matter how hard she tried, Noelle couldn't move her gaze from the man's eyes. She knew those cold, heartless, ice-blue eyes. She'd stared at them each time the serial killer had come in to torture her.

The guy scooped up the knife, jumped out the back window, and dashed away.

Unable to respond, she stood stunned.

"Noelle!" Jonah's frantic tone jerked her from the black hole her mind threatened to fall into.

She secured her Glock, flashed her credentials, and apologized to the driver. After directing the man to call Savannah PD and give a statement about the incident, she stepped off the trolley and met Jonah and Juliette on the sidewalk.

Jonah's hand covered the blood-soaked cloth on his side.

"You should be at the hospital getting that taken care of. And you, Juliette, should have kept him away from the danger."

"I'm not going to bleed out. I couldn't let you go after that guy alone. Don't get mad at Juliette. I didn't give her a choice."

The adrenaline crash edged its way in, and she had to sit down before it struck. She pointed to a bench not far away. "Let's go over there." Not allowing herself to get complacent, she continued to scan the area in case the attacker circled back around.

Jonah clutched his side and ambled over to the bench. He lowered onto the seat and patted the metal next to him.

Noelle joined him and tipped her head back. She sucked in several deep breaths. The attacker had gotten away, and now Jonah sat beside her with a knife wound that he refused to have tended.

Juliette stood to the side, arms crossed. "I can connect the dots as to what happened. But why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

Noelle exhaled. "Because I think I did."

Jonah shifted to face her. "Come again?"

"I got a good look at your attacker's eyes." Noelle clasped her shaking hands together.

"And?" Juliette raised a brow while her gaze assessed their surroundings.

"They were those of my serial killer." The words came out as a whisper.

Jonah's breath hitched. "But how is that possible? That guy was, what? Late twenties? He would've been in his teens when he abducted you."

"It's not possible." Noelle let her gaze dart from Jonah to Juliette and back. "But yet, somehow it is."