Chapter Twenty-Six

Priest

Rubbing the side of my jaw, I tried not to wince.

The bruise was fading, but the area was still tender.

"I agree, Priest," Frank said, looking at the board. "It's definitely a man. A woman would mark the victims in the same spot. Almost like a compulsive continuity; a need for symmetry."

"English, buddy."

"She would want everything neat and tidy," Frank muttered, staring intently at the trident mark on one of the victims. "It kind of looks like a Navy SEAL trident."

"I thought the same, but it's missing the eagle and gun."

"Have you checked to see if it could be a dropout?"

"That list would take forever to go through. Besides, the Navy weeds out the bad apples. To even apply for the SEALs, men have to pass a psych test."

"True." Frank nodded. "Priest, what if we're off base here?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, sitting up.

"All the victims have the trident burned into their skin. The killer doesn't care about age, sex, or race. He even killed each victim differently."

"That's right."

"Yet they only have one thing in common. The trident."

"Go on."

"You ever hear of the Seven Deadly Sins?"

"You're talking about wrath, gluttony, envy... those sins?"

"Yeah," Frank whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hear me out on this. There are six bodies. Each found in different parts of the city. The first body, a girl strangled in the street. The second, a boy shot in the subway. Third, a girl emaciated in an alley. Fourth, a boy with a broken neck in Central Park. Fifth, a girl found on the pier with her throat cut, and the latest, a boy found in a dumpster beaten to death. Each victim, killed differently, and if I'm right, the next victim will be a girl."

"What makes you think that?"

"Look," Frank said, pointing to the pictures on the board.

Girl, boy, girl, boy, girl, boy.

He was right.

There was a pattern.

"Now look at this," Frank continued, pointing to the young girl strangled in the street. "She's overweight. Gluttony. The boy shot in the subway was found with watches, wallets, even a few hundred bucks. That could be greed. The emaciated girl in the alley, pride."

I saw where Frank was going with this. Standing up, I walked over to the board and pointed at the fourth victim, the boy found in Central Park. "He would be sloth, because to anyone else, it looks like the young boy didn't care anymore. His clothes are worn and threadbare."

"Exactly." Frank smiled. "The girl on the pier would be lust. Look how provocatively she's dressed. And the boy in the dumpster would be envy. He was found with several pictures of famous people in his pockets."

"And if we go with the pattern girl boy, you're right. The next victim would be a girl."

"And she would be wrath."

"Jesus," I groaned, shaking my head. "I'd hate to see what this fucker has planned for her."

"My guess is the killer already knows who the seventh victim is, and he's hunting her. He saved her for last. We have to find her before he does, Priest, ‘cause my gut is telling me this asshole is going to punish her the worst. The clue to finding him is the trident. That's his signature. His calling card. We figure that out, then we will know who the killer is."

A knock at the door had us both turning when it slowly opened.

Seeing Phoebe stand there, looking down at her hands, I frowned, stepping forward.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

Slowly, she lifted her head to look at me. "Shaw. I know you're busy, but can I have a minute? It's important."

Worried, I looked at Frank, who quietly left the room.

The second he was gone, I reached for Phoebe and walked her over to a chair. Sitting beside her, I took her hands in mine.

"You're worrying me, babe. What happened?"

"Jake came by to see me today."

Releasing her hands, I leaned back and smirked. "I see. He come to ask you on another date?"

"Not really."

"Look, Phoebe. If you're looking for my permission, you won't get it. I never liked Jake when it came to you. Fucker was too damn nosey. Always asking questions and shit. Bastard was obsessed with you."

Her head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"I've told you this. Jake always wanted you. Asshole had a major hard-on for you. He actually got in my face once, telling me I wasn't treating you right. Said you would be better off with anyone but me."

"Why would he say that? He knew we were married."

"Hell, I don't know, babe. Jealousy? He never liked the fact that the FBI recruited me, staying my military commitment. He thought I was just looking for a way out, so I didn't have to commit to anything."

"Like me?"

I nodded. "He said I would destroy you."

Her hands trembled and I noticed her breathing increase.

Something was seriously wrong.

Leaning forward, I took her hands in mine and asked, "Baby, you didn't just come to ask about my former friendship with Jake. Did that fucker say something, do something to make you uncomfortable?"

It was my turn to start panicking when my wife looked me dead in the eyes and asked, "Shaw, how sure are you that the serial killer you caught was my attacker?"

I stiffened.

"Why are you asking me that, Phoebe?"

"Something Jake said. He showed up at my new business. I got the keys today and wanted to check the place out again. We started talking, and then, the next thing I know, he's ridiculing everything about you. But then he said, you didn't even find my attacker. Why would he say that, Shaw? You caught him. It was the agent who showed up in my hospital room. You said he was the one."

My mind whirled with everything I knew about Jake Quincy. I'd known the bastard since freshman year of college. We were roommates for the last two years. Planned on joining the military together.

I knew him.

Well, I thought I did.

Yet, my wife's words took root.

Phoebe would never willingly, knowingly accuse anyone of anything without proof. Whatever Jake had said to her really rattled her enough to come see me.

That in itself told me it was important, considering she'd been ignoring me for the last two months.

Saying nothing, I got up from my seat and walked to the door, opening it, to see Scribe and King walking past.

"Hey," I whispered, stopping them. "Need a favor."

"What now?" King glared, looking past me to see Phoebe in the room with me.

"Call Sypher. I need him to do a deep dive on Jake Quincy."

"Your college roommate?" Scribe frowned, looking at King.

"Not doing your dirty work for you, Priest." King groaned. "Look, I know you're not happy Phoebe's been out with him but making him out to be the bad guy will only drive her into his arms, brother."

Shaking my head, I sneered, "It's not that. Fucker said something to Phoebe, and it's scared her enough that I'm about to call my former FBI boss and get her file. Just call Sypher and have the kid do his shit."

Shutting the door before either of them could say another word, I turned to find Phoebe standing in front of the board. The one with all the victims displayed.

"Baby, you don't need to be looking at that stuff."

"I've seen this mark before, Shaw."

"What?"

Turning to face me, she nodded. "After we arrived in the city, I went to visit Father Dominic, remember?"

I nodded.

"Well, there was a young woman there. She had that mark on her shoulder. It was healed. Like she'd had it for years. I thought it odd that she would burn herself like that."

"Who was this girl?"

"Well, she's a woman, really, in her late twenties, maybe. Her name is Ivy Scott. A runaway before she became Mrs. Gladys' ward. She was leaving when I met her."

"Where was she going?"

"California."

"Shaw, I'm not sure about this." My beautiful wife stood, scared to death while I sat on my bike, waiting for her to decide.

After calling Robin with the lead Phoebe gave me, as well as Frank's thoughts on the case, I called my former boss, who was shocked to hear from me. After a few pleasantries, I told him why I'd called, and though he was adamant the serial killer the Bureau had been hunting was Phoebe's attacker, he reluctantly agreed to send me the case files. While I wanted to go over everything, Frank and Gunner flat-out told me no. That they refused to watch me go back to my dark place. Instead, it was King who ordered me to go for a ride while my club brothers went over the file, and, thanks to Bailey, she talked Phoebe into going with me, saying Phoebe would enjoy it.

"Babe, my bike won't bite you. I might, but not my bike."

"It's just so big."

Grinning, I winked. "Love it when you talk dirty to me."

Her eyes narrowed. "You know that's not what I meant."

Leaning against the bars, I looked at my wife, licking my lips. "Gotta say, babe. Never thought in a million years, I'd ever see you dressed like that. You look hot."

"They are Bailey's." My woman grimaced, looking at her attire.

Dressed in black leather riding pants, a black Sons of Hell tank, and a black leather jacket, my woman looked like the perfect biker babe. Even her long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, as she twisted and fumbled with Bailey's riding helmet in her hands.

"Damn." Banks whistled, walking over from the garage. "Now that is a beautiful sight."

"Man," Gunner groaned. "Now I wanna go riding."

"Want some company, Priest?" Hawk smirked mischievously as I stiffened.

"Hell no."

"Why not?" Pyro chuckled, walking out of the clubhouse. "It's not like anything is gonna happen, not with you being in the doghouse and all."

Narrowing my eyes at the fucker, I glared. "Shut up, Pyro."

"Maybe we should just stay here, Shaw. It's getting rather late."

"No," I said adamantly. "We are going for a long overdue ride. Besides, there is something I want to show you."

"Yeah, Pheebs." Banks snickered. "Priest wants to show you something."

"Oh, my sister won't do it. She's too chicken to get on the bike, Shaw. Might as well go without her. She's never been the adventurous type."

"I am too!" Phoebe scoffed at Athena.

"Then prove it." Her sister stood firm. "I dare you."

And just like that, Athena was my favorite sister-in-law, because the next thing I knew, Phoebe placed Bailey's helmet on her head and swung her leg over the back of my bike.

Sitting stiffly behind me, I reached around, took her hands and pulled her closer. Her front snug against my back, I placed her hands low around my stomach and smiled. "Hang on, baby."