Chapter Seventeen

Ty poured a cup of coffee into his mug. Exhaustion leached into his bones and weariness blurred his vision. Bexley's bomb had unnerved him in ways he couldn't begin to describe. The UNSUB had contacted her. Made demands. Expected compliance. Bexley wasn't supposed to tell him that—only for him to hit the trails and leave her alone.

He'd been prowling and preying on their moments and now wanted Bex isolated. Or he might want Ty to feel isolated, rejected. Either way Ty wasn't letting Bexley and Josiah stay in that home without him or someone for protection. After a lot of thought and consideration from the team, they all thought it was best for Bexley and Josiah to stay here with them. There was a chance someone might die, but the killer had made no promises that anyone would live if Bex obeyed.

Bexley entered the room and pointed at the coffeepot, her thick locks all over the place, and his gut tightened. She was still wildly beautiful. And in danger because of him. Retrieving a mug from the cabinet, he poured her a cup. "Morning, sunshine."

She hummed low and sipped the brew. Thunder boomed and a fresh wave of heavy rain fell. "Not gonna see sunshine for a minute," she said. "I wish I could stay in bed all day."

"I feel that. Hurricane Jodie keeps up east and Hatteras could be decimated by storm surges."

"I saw that this morning. She's moving faster than they originally predicted."

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I still don't know."

Asa stormed into the kitchen, as dark and gray as the rainclouds. Fiona followed with a grim expression.

"They found a new victim. Roanoke Marshes Lighthouse. We're heading to Manteo. Owen and Violet are coming downstairs now."

Another victim.

Ahnah. Dread pooled like thick oil in his gut.

"This is my fault, isn't it?" Bexley whispered, and her hands trembled, sloshing coffee over the side of her mug. "I went against his wishes. He knows."

"No," Ty said. "It's not your fault. It's mine."

"It's neither of your faults," Asa said. "You made the wiser decision to stay safe. This man has already laid out his plans regardless of any of our choices. If anything, you've put a chink in his armor by letting him know he's not calling the shots."

"But what if it's Ahnah? I won't forgive myself." Bexley set her cup on the counter. "I'm going too. I have to." She darted for the other room before Ty could protest.

"You know she shouldn't be there," Asa said.

"I know but..."

Asa nodded. "What about Josiah?"

"He won't be up until noon with school canceled for weather now—if I had to guess. I don't want him seeing this."

Asa frowned. "Not really your call, is it?"

Technically? Yes. But Ty had been keeping that doozey from him. No way was he being kicked off the investigation. "I don't see Bexley letting him, but she won't want him to be alone either."

Bexley returned, her curls up in a clip, straggling hair sticking out. No makeup and a pair of jeans and solid V-neck T-shirt. "Let's go."

"What about Josiah?"

"I woke him and told him I had an emergency. He assumed work and I didn't tell him different. Drew is coming by the beach house to pick him up in twenty minutes. I'll have him wait outside since you have sensitive material in here—not that Drew would ever divulge it to anyone."

"Now, let's go." Asa and Fiona headed to the first level and Ty followed, Bexley in step with him.

"Who is Drew?" Ty asked.

"Drew is a friend, my therapist and a good man. I trust him."

Ty's heart pumped with green ooze. "How long you known this guy?"

"Two years. But we've worked closely together. Josiah will be fine."

"Does he know about Josiah and me?"

"Of course."

Ty made a note to have Selah do a check on the therapist. She followed Ty to the SUV and paused. "I need to take my car. You'll be there longer, I imagine."

"You want me to drive?" He glanced at her shaking hands. "I know it's only a ten-minute trip, but..."

"Would you?"

He saluted the team and jumped in the driver's side of Bexley's car. "Listen to me. When we arrive, you promise to stay outside the perimeter? Let me assess the scene—you can't be on the premises anyway. You don't need to see anything. I'll let you know if..."

"If I got my sister killed." She covered her face. "I never seem to make the right decisions and it always causes someone anguish."

"Bex." He took her hand and clasped it in his. "We'll get through it. Together. We're gonna get through all of this together."

"You forgive me?"

"I understand somewhat, but I lost seventeen—almost eighteen—years of my son's life. I need more time to sort through those emotions. I'd think you'd know that." Right now he was sorting through the fact that he hadn't been sharp enough to catch this guy. Someone else was dead. More people were going to die, and it was like playing Russian roulette. It could be anyone. He'd let these women down. Let himself down.

Ty backed into a spot downtown, and from here they'd walk to the lighthouse. As they exited the car, Bexley grabbed his hand and began praying. He wasn't sure if he should pray too or say an amen or simply let her prayer make her feel stronger. If God was real and he prayed to Him, would He even listen to someone who didn't believe? Would He hear anyone's cries or just those who confessed Him as Lord? Ty was versed in scripture for his job, but it had never penetrated his heart.

But now, in this moment, a verse struck him with hurricane force, and yet it was gentle. How could something be both? Powerful and yet tender?

"...the cry of the poor to come unto him, and he heareth the cry of the afflicted."From the book of Job. If anyone had been in a mess that couldn't be controlled, it had been Job. Everything wiped out from under him within moments, then horrible affliction. That's how Ty felt—everything was being ripped away. But did God hear the cry of the afflicted? All? Any? Would He answer? How would He answer? How would Ty even know?

Stop acting stupid. You're following your friends like a dumb sheep. Prayer cannot help you. Only you can help yourself. Quit walking blindly.

Forty yards ahead, jutting into the Roanoke Sound, was the Roanoke Marshes Lighthouse. Unlike the other white brick towers with the black stripes, it had a seaside cottage vibe with a sloped red roof and gabled windows with black shutters. The only things identifying it as a lighthouse were the fenced-in observation deck and the cupola-style lantern room.

The team slowed as they approached the Dare County sheriff and his deputies, including Grady Dorn. Asa had called in the ERT out of Charlotte. The ME was on his way.

"She's got a note stabbed into her palm, but it's not like the others," Dorn said. "We set up a perimeter to keep out media and anyone who got word this early and decided to play the vulture. She fought. Valiantly if I had to guess. Feet are bruised and cut up, abrasions on her knees and hands, along with splinters. Maybe fell on a boardwalk? She's also got a knot on her head where she might have fallen or been hit. Not a single open bloom on her. Some broken fingers and a broken wrist."

Ahnah had been a fighter. Bexley said she'd never yield to him. At least...at least she'd fought to the bitter end.

Bexley stood far enough away that she didn't have visual access to the scene, but she'd refused to wait downtown.

"Agent? Agent, are you okay?" Dorn asked. Ty's vision blurred; spots formed before his eyes. Could he do this?

Rain leaked into his poncho, and rivulets dripped into his eyes from the hood.

As they walked up the boardwalk, the victim's hair came into view.

Red.

Ty's shoulders slumped, and he let out the breath he'd been holding. Turning back, he waved to Bexley to signal it wasn't Ahnah, but another fighter. A small measure of guilt nipped at him for feeling relief it wasn't Ahnah, because it was someone.

Tanned skin with little pink flowers tattooed down her right arm and neck and probably her back. Posed in a sitting position, her legs stretched out in front of her. One hand on her left thigh and her other arm out with the palm up, the note nailed into it.

His brain filed through the list of missing women with flower names and their pictures. He didn't recall seeing a redhead. Didn't mean the killer hadn't taken someone who hadn't been reported missing.

"Something's not right," Fiona said, and put her hand on Ty's arm, pausing midway on the boardwalk. "Her hair...it doesn't look right." A gust of wind swept across the frothy waters and blew her hair to the side and then completely off her head, revealing she wasn't a redhead at all.

Nor was she a brunette like Ahnah.

Blond. Pulled into a bun on top of her head.

The killer had put a wig on her just to toy with them again!

Fiona ran forward, whispering, "No," then startled and reeled backward. "Asa!"

Asa darted past Ty while he remained, his feet cemented to the wet wood.

He grabbed Fiona and held her face to his chest.

Ty forced his feet forward and rounded Asa, who was embracing Fiona.

The atmosphere tilted and he wobbled, then righted himself. His mouth opened to deny the horror, but he didn't have enough breath to speak, cry or mutter a prayer or even a curse. His lungs squeezed and his chest cracked with a sharp stabbing pain.

Her fingers were crooked on her left hand where they'd been broken, and her hand was twisted at an odd angle where her wrist had been broken too.

How had he gotten to her? It didn't make sense.

"Oh, God in heaven. God. In. Heaven," Owen said as he approached, clutching Ty's arm.

Violet inhaled sharply and knelt, ignoring protocol.

She tipped their admin assistant's chin upward. "Camellia," she whispered. "Camellias are flowers. Pretty pink flowers."

Cami's once blue, sparkling eyes stared back, milky and hollow.

Dead.