Chapter Fifteen

Ty trudged into the SCU beach house. Violet sat at the dining table drinking coffee and staring out the window at the choppy waters. "Jodie's predicted to be worse than Dorian," Violet said as she continued to gawk outside. The wind rattled the screens on the porch. "Rain's picking up."

"Maybe it'll die out before it hits here."

"Hurricanes are unpredictable beasts. Like the ones we catch, except we can't outmatch a hurricane, can we?" she mused.

"No." Ty wasn't sure they were going to outmatch the Lighthouse Killer either. Last night after the debacle with Josiah, he'd called Asa about the marionette strings and shipped them out to the lab in Quantico before arriving here this morning. Time was slipping through his fingers. Like he was trying to hold a bucket's worth of water in his palm. Couldn't be done. No leads. No answers yet. Investigating was slower than on TV and they did a lot of waiting. But on TV they weren't up against a force of nature bent on their destruction with the power to do it.

"I tried calling Rand again last night, but he won't answer my calls now that he has my number. This smooth-shaven guy who tattoos the Family logo has to be someone who's left the cult, and I need that list. But a logo isn't enough to prove someone from the Family did it, and I don't see us getting a warrant unless the portrait ends up being of someone who is in or was in the cult."

"Lot of ifs." Violet tucked a long bang behind her ear. "Patrick Swain and Ethan Lantrip are being cut loose today. The footage from Swain's house didn't reveal anything telling to indicate if the woman we saw on video was Jenny Davis. We can't be sure it wasn't a snuff film—other than she has been reported missing. Her family said she was a sweet girl. Lit up a room—they never do though. They might be lit up in a room."

"Look at you making jokes—or trying. I like it."

She ignored his comment. "No boyfriends at the time of her disappearance. No enemies. No notes. They had no idea about her side gig. So that was fun to divulge."

Ty winced. Nothing about this job was good except when they caught a killer and brought justice to victims and families, but for as many cases they solved they had as many—if not more—cold cases. Not everyone got their happy ending.

"Where's Asa and Owen?"

"Asa's picking up Fiona from the airport. Investigative Service Branch agents for the national parks are running with the case. She built a solid profile. Owen dipped out to get pastries. All that sugar is going to kill him. Kill all of you."

Ty ignored the health nut's criticism. "And have you given any thought to the marionette strings?"

She sipped her coffee. "It's pretty clear he thinks he's pulling your strings. He wanted you here. He got you here."

"That's not enough. Jeeper-Creeper it."

Violet sat with perfect posture, her long dark hair parted down the middle hanging well past her shoulders and her blue-green eyes suddenly cold and hollow, giving him the jeeper-creepers. "If I wanted to pull your chain, I'd pick women who matter to you. Check." She made an air-checkmark. "I thought he put them at the lighthouses to showcase his work to the world, but he only cared about you seeing his work. He wants you to see something. I think he wanted you to see the hidden tattoos on the vics. He chose them. Knew you'd investigate and knew where you'd end up. He's leading you to him."

"If he's leading me to him, he has to believe he can kill me. Right?"

"I don't know if he wants to kill you or make you live life destroyed, but he has a grand finale planned."

"Nothing like a sadistic Geppetto toying with me," Ty muttered. "But what do Patrick Swain and Jenny Davis have to do with me personally?"

Violet placed her mug on the table. "Not sure what his motives were for that. Other than to keep you running down leads he wants you to find and hiding leads he doesn't want you to know about...for now. I'm not ruling out Patrick Swain or Ethan Lantrip as our killer yet."

The idea that this sicko could orchestrate an entire investigation and had enough ammunition to force someone to admit to a crime he couldn't be charged with was overwhelming.

"He thrives on keeping me close, then."

"Absolutely. He's not a thrill-seeker but a man with a god complex. He doesn't believe he can be caught. He dropped you a note personally at the pizza place."

"But they don't have cameras, so that was a bust." The UNSUB likely knew this information.

She nodded. "I imagine we've either already encountered him or will before it's over. He'll come right under our noses to prove he can, to prove our impotence and ineptness, which will only feed his delusions of grandeur."

"He's some average Joe we wouldn't think twice about?"

"No. He's far above average in intelligence and looks. He's probably charming and charismatic. People don't mind following him or befriending him. He says all the right things, exudes confidence and false compassion."

"That sounds like a cult leader if I ever heard of one."

"He's a highly dangerous sociopath. Puppet strings are the least of your worries." She crossed one leg over the other and looked out on the water again. "I might like living on a beach."

"You just said a dangerous sociopath is after me and going to crank it up, and in the next breath discuss beach living? Maybe you're a sociopath."

"A year ago, I'd say that might be true. But I have feelings, Tiberius. Right now they involve a quiet life on a beach with people I love and far away from monsters." She sighed longingly.

How long did the SCU team have before Violet hung up her holster and gun for a baking apron and bun in the oven? "Hurricane might be coming to wreck that beach dream." His way of saying don't go. He grated on her nerves, and she was terrifying at times, but she was family.

Anyone leaving the South Division was too hard to imagine. Fiona had transferred divisions once, leaving a gaping hole in their team, but now they were reunited. They needed one another, supported one another. Had a rhythm and endured more than most blood kin families did in a day. But it was bound to happen. What would change when Fiona and Asa married and babies came along? As much as he wished things to remain as they were, that wasn't how life worked. Things had already shifted. Once Josiah knew the truth, could Ty up and leave for two weeks at a time with little to no notice? Someone had to clobber evil and make the world safe.

Someone had to sacrifice.

Violet tented her hands on the table. "Hurricanes are always coming, Ty. You weather them or you drown in them. Your choice. And I know what you're thinking. I'm not going anywhere. As John puts it, I have a gift, and it would be wrong not to use it. Only way you're getting rid of me is if a killer gets the jump on me, and let me tell you, he better be real good to do that."

Solid truth. "Nice to hear. I was wondering."

"I know." She smirked. "Now, enough sloppy gooey words. Let's catch this vile creature by his rattling tail."

"I want to talk to Skipper again, see if I can get him to crack on his motives for returning with the information on Jenny Davis. And I'm going to have to climb a mountain—literally. Rand Granger won't give me squat or answer further calls. Maybe if I'm standing in front of him in flesh and blood he'll have a change of heart—except he has no heart."

"I could shoot him and we can pilfer the place," she added dryly.

"A year ago, I would believe you. But that's against your new religion." He winked.

"That's against being a good human. Unless he gives me a reason. Twitchy fingers, hands behind his back, drawing a weapon, I'll pull the trigger."

"Who's pulling triggers?" Owen asked as he clambered up the stairs holding a box of pastries; the sweet fresh scent of vanilla, sugar and chocolate made his stomach rumble.

Owen had shaved and was dressed in a flashy gray suit with a bright orange shirt that looked good against his darker skin. Ty couldn't wear orange without looking like he'd had the flu for six weeks or had been on a weekend bender with the bottle.

"Violet says she'll off my dad so we can get a list of names of disfellowshipped members."

"Nice," he said, and dropped the box on the counter. "Can we eat a bear claw first?"

"Sure. I don't like killing people on an empty stomach," Violet said, and Owen paused mid-bite.

"I like that you joke now. They're always scary, but I appreciate them." Owen handed Ty an apple fritter—his favorite. Then he picked up a cake donut. "Woman at the shop said this is sweetened with maple syrup, not sugar, and it's gluten-free. So probably taste-free too, but I took a chance." He handed it to Violet.

She bit into it. "It's good."

"Only because you've forgotten what sugar tastes like." Owen devoured his pastry and washed his hands. "Okay, now what?"

"Selah find anything on Patrick Swain?" Ty asked. Being at Bexley's at night threw him out of the loop.

"Not since yesterday afternoon," Violet said. "She's doing double duty with Cami on vacation, but go ahead. Call her and wake her up."

"It's pushing eight o' clock. She's up," Owen said. "Double duty or not, she rarely sleeps."

Ty let the remark slip and texted her to call if she had anything. Within seconds, the phone rang and Ty answered. "You're on Speaker. Go."

"So Patrick's Swain's commercial real estate company checks out. According to the geofence information, we found he was on his cell phone around the time and location Ahnah disappeared from the Blue Marlin. And interestingly enough, he was also within the vicinity of Catherine Overly when she disappeared after leaving work for that hot date she'd talked about, but he has a home on the island and it's not huge, so it doesn't mean he abducted them—or retained them after they consented to be in his house. We're still sifting through the other missing women on the list and hunting for a connection between them. He has no record. I'll keep shoveling and dig up something. Give me time."

"We don't have a lot of that," Ty said.

"I know, but I can only find what I can find. I'm working around the clock and I'm doing more than just my job. Not all of us are enjoying time off."

Ty ignored her huffy tone.

"I'll update you when I know something."

In the meantime, it appeared after talking to Ethan Lantrip Ty was going to take a trip to Asheville.

"What do you mean it's best?" Milo said as a crack of thunder shook Bexley's office, reminding her that serious weather was on the way and she was going to have to make a choice—stay or evacuate. Neither would be ideal.

A divot had formed along Milo's brow, his sandy blond hair flopping to the side. "You're helping me. No one has been able to help me like you. What did I do that was so wrong? Mowing your yard was a kind gesture, wasn't it?"

Bexley tapped a nail against her teeth. "Milo. What is happening here is called positive transference. You're seeing me as a parental figure, and that's not productive for our therapy sessions. Dr. Monroe has been gracious to open up his calendar and take you on as a patient. He's nothing like your father. I think it's going to be a nice fit. He's here and wants to meet you. That's it for today. A simple meet and greet."

Milo's jaw worked, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're abandoning me. Rejecting me." She'd feared it might go this way. She was right in her assessment. This morning he'd greeted her with a coffee and an offer to fix the door outside her office building.

"I'm not seeing some guy I don't know." He crossed his arms like a petulant child.

"You didn't know me at the beginning either."

"Yeah, and you're dumping me!" He flailed his arms as he jumped to his feet with such force the chair fell over and Bexley startled.

The door opened and Drew stepped in wearing a fresh suit, his eyes conveying concern. "Excuse me. I didn't mean to interrupt. Milo? I'm Dr. Monroe, but you can call me Drew."

"You can't help me."

"Milo, breathe. In deep and out slowly. You don't want to lose your temper," Bexley said.

"I have every right to lose my temper. You're abandoning me."

"Let's look at it as if she's going on vacation for a couple of weeks. I'm going to step in while she's away. And if things go well, which I believe they will, she may stay on vacation a little longer. Can we choose to see this through a different lens, Milo? Would that be possible?"

For a moment she expected him to agree. Drew had a way with words, a soothing effect with his clients. But Milo's eyes narrowed. "I doubt it." He stormed from her office, cussing a blue streak.

Could she take much more of this? Milo storming out. A literal storm pouring sheets of rain, the windows streaked and blurring the outside. This morning Josiah had stormed out on her too. What was with all the storms?

"What's going on? You're far too upset for this to be only about Milo. Talk to me."

"Josiah has a friend that's a rotten influence. Tiberius saw some chats with him and they're pretty degrading toward me and his father. I spoke to him about positive and negative influences in his life, and he all but told me where I could stick my parental pep talk. And he did use the phrase ‘parental pep talk.' So yeah, I'm upset."

Drew closed the door Milo had left open and perched on the edge of Bexley's desk, his freshly showered scent a comfort. Reminded her of a familiar smell she couldn't place. "Are you going to tell him Tiberius is his father?"

"I almost did, but then the thought of dumping one more bomb on him might be too much, or maybe it's not a bomb. Maybe it'll be a gift. His behavior is stemming from this—I think. The anger—it's so new and—"

"I disagree." He laid an easy hand on her shoulder, and she covered it with her own, appreciating his friendship, tutelage and grace in her life. "It might do the opposite of what you hope. His dad is here but not for him."

"I've danced around his questions for ages. He's never asked if his dad knows about him, simply who is my dad and why can't I know him. If he knows I never told Tiberius, then he might not be so angry."

"Not with Tiberius but with you. Now is not the time for him to feel abandoned by you and Ahnah and his father—though he's here now. Do you think he can actually find your sister?" A stray curl fell into his eyes, and he slid it behind his ear in a smooth gesture.

"If anyone can, it's him and the SCU team. He only reveals what he's allowed. I can't divulge that information or I would. Right now, they have some leads but nothing definitive."

His eyebrows rose. "What do they plan to do when the hurricane hits?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what I'm going to do. I can't leave the island. Ahnah is here, I think. But I might not be able to stay if it's as rough as they predict. I have Josiah to think about. What are you going to do?"

"I don't think it'll be as bad as they say. They have to give the worst-case scenario to the public. I plan to hunker down. Why don't we get some dinner tonight? We can talk it out. Enjoy some delicious food."

"I would love that under other circumstances." She stood and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you for all the support and your friendship, Drew."

After a quick hug, he grinned. "I'm always here for you, Bexley. I'll call Milo after he's had time to process. I can coax him into seeing me."

Of course he could. "Thank you. I hope this doesn't set him back or on some vindictive rampage."

"I can handle a tantrum or two. Be careful and stay safe." He left her office. She slumped on her couch, propping her feet up on a pillow and rubbing her temples to bat away yet another headache, but it was pointless. Stress headaches wouldn't subside until the stress did, and with each day it grew exponentially. She closed her eyes and tried to relax and pray to calm her nerves. Prayer generally brought peace to her heart.

Her cell phone rang, startling her. She must have dozed off. She checked the time. She had slept for twenty minutes.

Her phone screen read unknown caller.

"Bexley Hemmingway."

Silence filled the line except for soft breathing. Her heart skittered a beat, and she bolted upright. "Ahnah. Ahnah, is that you?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The same modulated voice as before slipped through the line, curling around her ribs in icy bands.

"Who is this?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Do you have Ahnah?" The phone slipped in her wet palm, but she gripped it tighter.

"I have whatever or whomever I choose."

Bexley's throat tightened. "Please, let her go. Please."

"You don't have negotiating power, Bexley. Let me tell you what I want. I want you to separate yourself from Tiberius Granger. He's no longer allowed to sleep on your couch. Oh, I know he does. I'll know if he's there or gone. You cannot hide anything from me. And if you tell him about this phone call, I'll know."

Why did he want Tiberius gone? To kidnap her and Josiah without trouble?

"You make sure he knows you don't want a romantic affair with him. And before you lie and say it's not on that trajectory, I know about the late-night beach walk."

Now it was clear—he had been stalking her home. Her entire body flushed until a cold sweat broke out across her body. "And if I do what you want?"

"Maybe I spare Ahnah. Maybe I spare you and your son too. Or maybe I spare no one."

The call dropped. Bexley let the phone fall onto her lap as she faced yet another impossible decision.