Chapter 2

Olivia Bennett

T he glossy, gory photos were spread out across my desk. Johnathan’s brow furrowed as he leaned in, studying all the gruesome details.

“They’re still so precise.” he muttered, tapping one image.

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral. “The killer clearly has anatomical knowledge. He’s Deliberate. He’s not just hacking away in a frenzy.”

Johnathan nodded. “And he has patience. Look how the wounds overlap—this took time.”

“He’s savoring it,” I said softly.

“Sick bastard,” Johnathan huffed. He ran a hand through his hair. “But why remove features afterward? It’s like he’s…”

“Erasing them,” I finished the thought for him. “He’s stripping away their humanity. Look at how he’s targeting identifying features.”

“Yeah, I thought he would’ve started to devolve by now, but it seems he’s still very much in control. Let’s go over what we know… He keeps the victims alive until he’s ready for it to be over.”

“He’s a sadist that knows where to cut into his victims, maybe in the medical field to have anatomical knowledge.” I clicked my pen a few times as my mind worked. “So far every man that has been killed were found in their own homes. No signs of break ins. No neighbors heard anything…” I added.

“Which, like I said before, isn’t a surprise considering the people the executioner is targeting in the eyes of the law are already guilty. Even if they did see or hear anything I doubt they’d come forward.” I watched Johnathans wheels turn as I glanced back over the photos. “I know we’ve talked about it before but… what if the Executioner is a woman?” He glanced over at me waiting for my response.

“She would have to be physically fit to be able to take down these men in their own homes. No drugs have been found in any of the autopsy reports.” I said.

“Yes, but all the men have been straight males, the unsub could be using their charm to get into their homes, and all of the men who have been killed have crimes against women which would also stand for a woman vigilante killer.”

“True, but how would a woman be able to overpower these men while trying to keep them alive for any extended amount of time? Plus, statistically speaking, women serial killers don’t tortue their victims.”

Johnathan fell silent running a hand through his hair again before looking at the time. “My brain hurts, and I’m starving. Let’s put a pin in this. Besides, I’m starting to feel like our guy is doing the world favors…” I let his statement linger before changing the subject back to food.

“After gawking over those photos… you’re starving.” He looked at me with wide eyes before I finally relent. “Samesies.” I said and he chuckled.

As we strode through the office readying to leave, Johnathan’s steps mirrored mine. Sadie sat behind her desk, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, her fingers fumbling with a pen. She offered us a fleeting glance, one that darted away too quickly, her voice was a mere whisper.

“Morning, Bennet and Johnathan .” She said his name like a breathless moan. The poor girl had wanted Johnathan from the moment she’d started in the office. She had it bad. But who wouldn’t? Jonathan was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Warm hazel eyes, olive skin, black hair and sharp features with a lean muscled frame, what’s not to like?

“Someone must’ve spiked her coffee with anxiety,” Johnathan murmured, leaning in so only I could hear. Did I love Johnathan as my partner? Absolutely. He was like a brother to me. But the poor guy had zero skills with picking up on all the very obvious hints Sadie had been throwing his way. Either that or he didn’t engage because she wasn’t his type. No woman was his type.

I smirked. “Or maybe your aftershave is finally taking its toll.”

“ Ha ha ,” he retorted, the corner of his mouth twitching. “So, what’s the verdict for lunch? The usual deli, or are we feeling adventurous today?”

“Deli’s fine, but—”

“Bennett, my office. Now.” The order cut through our conversation. It was our boss, his tone allowing no room for argument.

“Guess lunch will have to wait too,” I said as I turned toward the sound.

“Good luck,” Johnathan called after me, his voice tinged with concern.

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” I muttered under my breath, already bracing for whatever lay ahead. My hand reached for the door handle, the cool metal offering no comfort.

Clemens’ office had zero personality, a perfect reflection of the man himself. The walls were adorned with sleek black-and-white photographs of his wife and kids that made them look like they were happier than they actually were.

He motioned to the chair across from his desk without looking up from the piles of papers strewn before him, each one perfectly organized and labeled. The air in the room felt heavy and tense, as if whatever decision he had made and was about to tell me carried weight. It reminded me of the day I’d gotten hired for this job, when I’d felt just as anxious and uncertain. What was he going to tell me? My mind raced with possibilities, some good and some bad, leaving me feeling torn.

“Sit.”

I did, my back straight, hands folded in my lap, every muscle wound tight. The creaking of the leather chair and our breathing were the only sounds in the room, which only made it worse. It was cooler in here, laced with the scent of broken dreams and jailhouse coffee.

I watched him, waiting.

He finally met my gaze, his eyes as sharp as the creases in his starched shirt. “Bennett, we’re pulling you off the executioner case.”

My heart lurched. “But I—”

“Three years, Bennett.” His voice was flat and final, like a gavel slamming down. His decision had been made long before I’d walked in here. “Three years and what do we have? Nothing solid. It’s over. Someone else will be taking over. I think some fresh eyes on it might do us all some good.”

“But I—” I tried again, but the protest died on my lips, strangled simply by the look he was giving me. I searched for words, but they were elusive, smothered by the weight of all the things I had accomplished since being on this case, and now it was all going to someone else. It would only make my job more difficult later.

“No buts, Bennett. I’ve decided to send you undercover instead.” I blinked, trying to process the shift. Undercover. All of my work was done here. I didn’t want to leave. “There’s been a small series of murders involving some of the Croixes.” His gaze pinned me like a specimen to a board. “The only connection is a world-renowned haunted house in Ark Valley called Dead Man’s Mansion. I’m sending you in,” he confirmed, reading my thoughts as if they were printed on my face. “The haunted house put up a listing asking for help, and we’ve set you up with a job interview.”

“When?” I blurted out. With this all happening so fast it meant no time for goodbyes or last-minute preparations. No time to wrap my head around the abrupt end of three years’ work.

“Your flight is tomorrow morning.” His voice brooked no argument. “We’ve already arranged your living situation there until we pull you back.”

Dread curled in my stomach, cold and unwelcome. This wasn’t just a new case, it was a complete upheaval of my life. Slipping into someone else’s skin, leaving my own behind. I did that plenty just being here. I groaned internally. This was the last thing I needed, especially with the executioner’s most recent kill. Someone new would be crawling all over my work. My progress.

“Get the job,” he ordered, every syllable etched with authority. “Find out all you can about the haunted house. The people coming and going and how all of this connects to the murders.”

I stared at him, my mind a whirlwind of lists, logistics, and latent fears. But one thing about this new case did interest me. If the Croix crime family was involved, this case seemed right up my alley. It may even connect to the most recent executioner murder somehow.

“Yes, sir,” I heard myself say, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.

I stood, the chair scraping softly against the floor. My legs felt like lead, each step toward the door an exercise in control. I hated not being in control.

“Good luck, Bennett,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied, my tone equally as empty, almost sarcastic, but I doubted he caught it. I turned my back on the office, on the unsolved files sitting on my desk, on the case I knew. The door closed with a soft click, and I stepped into the uncertainty that would now become my life. The hum of fluorescent lights grated against my nerves from above. I hated change.

“Hey,” Johnathan said, catching the edge in my gait. His voice, usually a calm anchor, now sounded like an alarm bell. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Close enough.” I forced a half-smile, my lips betraying the turmoil inside. “Boss is pulling me from the case. Three years and poof, I’m out.”

“Out?!” He frowned, leaning against my cool desk as I gathered a few things. His warm eyes searched mine, looking for the punchline that never came.

“He’s sending me undercover. Some haunted house in Ark Valley. There are some murders that are connected to the Croixes. Who knows, maybe it’ll lead to something big.” I tried to sound enthusiastic to lighten the mood. I pulled out my phone, looking through my email at all the information Clemens was sending me now that he had talked to me.

“Damn, do you leave tonight?” His eyebrows shot up, a silent whistle escaping his lips.

“Tomorrow morning, the plane leaves at nine.” I said, turning my phone for him to see the ticket info.

Johnathan’s hand found my arm, steadying me.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” he began, his easy, giddy warmth wrapping around the cold dread in my stomach. “We get takeout. Your favorite, with the extra hot sauce that doubles as paint stripper.”

“I’m liking the sound of this.” The knot in my chest loosened ever so slightly.

“Then,” he continued, “we binge all the horror shows. Every single one.”

“It fits the theme of the assignment, but you hate horror shows,” I quipped, a genuine smile flickering to life on my lips.

“Exactly. Only for you, Bennett.” His grin widened. “Let’s send you off with a bang—or at least, a scare.” He made a silly face, and I couldn’t stop my chuckle.

“Thanks, Johnathan.” I felt lighter and warm, my reliance on his goofballness was something I’d never admit out loud.

“Always, Oli.” He said it like a promise as steadfast as the ground beneath our feet.

We walked together as we left the office. I took one last glance over my shoulder, not knowing when I’d be back at this place.