Chapter Eighteen

"Someone cover her up," Ty whispered. No one moved. He shoved back the hood from his poncho. "I said someone cover her up! Cover her up!" No one needed to see her like this—exposed and exploited. "Please!" He went into child's pose, his head on the boardwalk. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Cam." Tears mingled with rain. He hadn't even known her name was Camellia or that it was a flower.

Cami had been their mama hen at twenty-six. Tough and hilarious and full of sass. Their Tinkerbelle—nicknamed by Fiona, and though it hadn't been a compliment at the time, it'd stuck.

"Somebody cover her up," he shouted. "I'll kill him. I will kill him. I swear I'll kill him."

Owen's heavy hand rested on his shoulder, and he peered up through blurry eyes at his best friend. Owen didn't hide his tears. "We can't, Ty. Not yet. She might have—" his voice cracked "—she might have evidence to recover. Covering her up will compromise her."

The last thing she told him before she left for two weeks of vacation was she'd bring him back something fun. That was almost two weeks ago. She'd saved up time to take the whole enchilada at once, which he'd told her was dumb. Once vacation was burned, it was the rest of the year with nothing to look forward to.

She'd laughed and reminded him of Barbados. That one crazy time a hurricane hit. He only wished they were caught in one together now. This kind of storm wasn't one he was prepared for.

No wonder she hadn't texted him back when he dogged her hotel booking skills after seeing the beach house earlier in the week. She hadn't been on a beach ignoring him. She'd been in the clutches of a killer all this time.

"Why did she come here? How did he find her?" he asked with a hoarse voice, his throat raw and burning.

Fiona and Violet took the lead and examined her body, without moving her. Still felt intrusive and too personal. Too wrong.

"Tiberius," Fiona said, "there's a note you need to see."

"I can't look at her, Fi. It's wrong." Like this. In this way.

Violet backtracked and knelt in front of him. "Tiberius, she would want you to do your job. To find her killer. And when we do we'll make sure he pays."

She meant justice to the fullest extent of the law.

Ty wanted vengeance.

The killer had said he'd pick someone close to Ty. How had he known? Ty and Cami had kept that week a secret. Cami never once mentioned being in a hurricane.

Cami would want him to find this man. He stood and wiped his eyes, inching toward her. He read the note card nailed into her palm.

She tasted sweet as honey. Sassy and stubborn, but you know this. What will you tell her family? And what will you tell Bexley when it's Ahnah's turn? I'm running out of lighthouses. Maybe I'll put her on her sister's doorstep. I'm not done. You haven't suffered enough. Paid enough for your sins. I will not rest until you're destroyed. Secret's out now, though, isn't it?

"What secret?" Owen asked.

Ty's hands shook, and he formed them into tight fists as he processed as quickly as he could. "I think he's been tracking me for a very long time. At least two years. He said in the last letter that I cared about her, and I thought he meant Ahnah. But he's had Cami too, and that's who he actually meant."

"Why?" Fiona asked as the ME approached.

"Because Cami had gone through a hard time with her boyfriend—remember, Asa? You about did a beatdown on him, then helped her get straightened out?"

"I remember," he said in a raspy tone.

"We were just talking and I mentioned she could come to Barbados with me. Take a week. Come out a day or two after me. Just us."

"And she did," Asa said. "You think the killer knows you were in Barbados with her?"

"I know he knows. I don't know if he was targeting flower names and chose Cami. Or maybe it was icing on the cake, either way. He knew we were close. Nothing super romantic. It heated up a little but...we were cool when we got back."

"She was in that hurricane with you," Violet said.

He nodded. "Never said a word. We didn't want rumors flying, and it was that one time. She must have told him or posted something. I don't know how he found Ahnah or how he lured Cami here. It makes no sense."

Dried blood crusted her lip and chin, and he closed his eyes. "She fought him."

"I'd expect no less," Asa said. "I should have pressed her about where she was going. She was secretive, and I didn't want her to think I was pushing into her personal life." The vein running along his brow protruded, and his face had turned crimson. "I should have—"

"This is on me, Asa. Not you." This monster had somehow connected with Cami and enticed her. Then he'd captured her. Made her his flower. In his plan to get Ty, she was a pawn. "He's always ten to twenty steps ahead. I—we—can't catch him. How am I going to live knowing I couldn't bring Cami or her family any justice?" He spun on his heel and stalked down the boardwalk, the wind whipping and blowing his tie into his face. He leaned over the railing and vomited.

The mountain road narrowed as it wended upward with sharp curves that turned Ty green. It'd been a minute since he'd driven these roads barreling straight into his past. A place he never expected to return to. He was quickly learning no one truly escaped their past; it clung to his frame like days-old sweat. Or maybe only those who didn't deal with it never escaped. Was it possible to go back and face it like a headwind so that he could truly be free?

After they'd left the scene this morning, Asa had shouldered the responsibility to inform Cami's parents and sister of her death while Ty and Owen prepared to fly to Asheville, rent a vehicle and visit the Family of Glory. Asa had blamed himself for not being more intrusive in her life. Cami was beautiful inside and out, but she often picked the wrong men. She'd been hurt and abused before, stemming clear back to grade school and a pervert uncle. But she'd risen above it and had been a part of the SCU family.

Selah was combing through Cami's social media accounts. Most of the team steered clear of social media accounts for privacy, but Cami was a social media junkie and a fan of dating sites and apps. She and Ty had gone through some of hers in Barbados as she repeatedly swiped left and he reminded her that dating apps rarely worked in favor of the woman. Cam was a Southern woman through and through. Kind and courteous and stubborn as a goose. Selah was scouring those dating sites too. It had to be how the killer found Cami. Like an unseen enemy hunting for information, finding and poking at it, hoping for a weak spot in the wall so he could slip his way in and dismantle everything piece by piece.

"Why didn't you tell me about Barbados?" Owen asked. "Seems like you been keepin' more secrets from me than tellin' 'em to me."

"It was a spur-of-the-moment idea, and I honestly didn't think she'd take me up on it. I was probably half-drunk when I asked. She needed a break and wanted to work on her art for the next show." Cami had done several art shows and was gifted. "It was one night that got a little out of control. She didn't want to make a big thing of it, and I knew how you felt about interoffice relationships. We returned and stayed close, never crossing a line like that again." But it was enough that it's why the killer chose her over Violet—if he was hunting among Ty's closest friends.

Or he was afraid of Violet.

Or he was coming for her and everyone all in good time.

Ty wasn't sure he could handle another move. He'd been unraveling since his first day in North Carolina, and he was down to a frayed thread about to snap into a dark free fall.

Their team had been fractured.

Fiona and Violet had gone to the ME's office in Raleigh to be present for the autopsy. Cami's family wanted to fly in, but with the hurricane coming and her body already identified, there was nothing they could do. Once the procedure was finished, they'd send her home and arrangements would be made. Dense forest flanked the mountain roads and his ears filled with uncomfortable pressure.

"You should have told me," Owen said.

"I know." Ty tapped his heart with his fist.

Owen arched an eyebrow. "She was smart. She didn't have a single open bloom. That girl took the fight to the grave. He had to have infiltrated an app to meet her. How does a guy like that slip in like a phantom?"

"Cami was the best, but she was insecure," Ty said. "He caught a whiff of it and told her what she wanted to hear, proved he wasn't a catfish. She was wise to catfishers. Who knows how long they'd been talking. He was grooming her and planning this. He's cleverer than I originally thought. It's like he's omnipresent and omnipotent. How do we fight that?"

"He's neither of those. He's flesh and blood. A man. He can be hurt."

"Are you pulling Rocky IV lines at a time like this, O?"

Owen lifted a shoulder. "They fit."

"I've taught you well." He sighed. "I do want to hurt him, though. I want him to pay with his life for this." His grip tightened on the wheel, like the emotion tightening around his ribs. The road narrowed on the curve, and then the wooded, gated community sprang into view. Upscale and posh. No one would know the atrocities that took place in this community, led by a reptile with good looks and a silver tongue.

"He doesn't have to talk to us, but I can't promise I won't lose it if he refuses." Ty approached the gates, which were open during daytime hours. As he drove past them, his mouth turned dry and his palms damp. Houses were tucked into the woods, some with longer winding drives.

But Rand Granger had the Prophet's house. Eight thousand square feet of his own private kingdom. "One more unfortunate bomb, O. Rand is racist. You won't find African Americans in the Family."

"Okay," Owen murmured.

"I don't carry those beliefs with me. I don't—"

"Ty," Owen said, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I know you. I know how you feel, and I'm not going to change my view of you because your dad is a bigot. But if you think my presence will hinder his willingness to talk to you, I can stay in the car."

"Absolutely not. We're doing our jobs. He'll talk. Just not to you. He probably won't even acknowledge you're in the room, and I'm... I'm sorry." His heritage, his past, was nothing he could remotely be proud of, and this was another factor in why Josiah should never know his family.

"I appreciate that. I do. But I been dealin' with his kind a long time."

"I never felt or believed like he does. Not ever." He needed his ride-or-die to know that. Because Rand Granger was a pathetic excuse of a human being, but he could be shrewd and unkind. Owen needed to go in knowing the deal so he wouldn't be blindsided.

At the top of the hill, Rand's house was nestled into the mountains. It was as obnoxious as his father. Ty parked by the fountain in the circular drive behind a Land Rover and an F-350. A group of young children chased each other around the trees, laughing. The poor kids had no idea they were being manipulated and deceived by the ones they loved most. They paused as he and Owen closed the SUV doors, drawing their attention. Outsiders. But Ty was a half-brother to many if not all of them. He shook his head as they walked up the porch steps. His home growing up looked more resort than residential with its A-line windows running ceiling to floor.

Ty rapped on the door, his pulse on the uptick.

A girl about sixteen greeted them with a chubby baby with dark hair and big brown eyes on her hip. He held his bottle in one hand and a pacifier in the other. Was this girl another of Rand's wives? Was this baby his half-brother too?

"May I help you?" she asked as her gaze shifted between the two of them, lingering a little longer on—and seeming leerier of—Owen.

"We need to speak with the Prophet. It's urgent," Ty said.

"The Prophet is in prayer, sir. He can't be interrupted during communion with God." That's when he noticed her eyes. Green in color and shape, matching his own. A sister, not a wife.

"I'm Special Agent—" Did he say his last name? Did he even want to? "Granger, and this is Special Agent Barkley."

"Granger? That's my last name." She smiled. "He could be a while, if you don't mind waiting."

A figure approached and Ty cocked his head, studying the dark-haired man with eyes equally as dark. Surely not. He couldn't hold back a smile. "Lysander?"

The man paused in his approach and squinted.

Wasn't it his younger brother? He'd only been fourteen when Ty had left that night. Upon further inspection, he decided, yes. It was. He looked more like their mother than he and Garrick did. He'd filled out and become a handsome man. Ty's gullet cinched. "It's me. Tiberius."

His eyes widened, and he closed the distance between them. "Laurie, you may return to daycare duty. I'll handle this."

"Yes, sir."

Lysander ruffled her hair, then stretched out his arms, and the baby reached for him. He scooped him up and kissed his forehead.

"I've got Alex."

"Yes, sir." She darted from the open door.

Ty stared at the baby.

"Not your brother. Your nephew." Lysander smiled.

"You're married."

"I am."

"Good for you. I guess that means Garrick married?" He might be asking questions too soon, but the only way for Lysander to have a wife would mean Garrick had one.

A small divot formed across his brow. "He was. What brings you here after all these years? And why does Garrick's marriage matter?" He glanced at Owen, but refrained from speaking to him. Guess he'd adopted Rand's view, or maybe he was simply stunned to see Ty on his doorstep. The fact Lysander was talking to him suggested he wasn't as opposed to Ty as Rand was.

"I need to talk to the Prophet. Laurie says he's in prayer." As if he actually prayed, and if he did, and there was a God, Rand wasn't talking to Him. "Official business." He showed his credentials. "This is Agent Barkley, my colleague and friend."

Lysander nodded and extended his hand to Owen. "Nice to meet you."

Owen shook Lysander's hand. Maybe he had more Mama in him than his father. But here he was, still a believer, and Ty couldn't let himself forget that.

"What is the official business? We haven't had anything nefarious go on here, Tiberius."

Bunk. But that told him Lysander was as fully immersed in the Family as he'd always been.

"I need to know who's been disfellowshipped, or left of their own accord, in the past decade. Also, is Garrick around?"

Lysander bent over, picked up the pacifier Alex had dropped, and pocketed it. "Today? No. He travels a lot. Our real estate company has gone global now. Father had to buy a new plane, but Garrick's travels are mostly in-state. He's running the coastal properties. Why?"

"Just curious."

"Tiberius, you were never a good liar. If you explain why you want to know, I might be—"

"What is going on?" Rand Granger's deep baritone registered, causing a dull thump in Ty's chest before his looming frame appeared next to Lysander, filling the remaining space with his once-intimidating physique. Rand had really aged in the past decade. His formerly straight shoulders now stooped and the lines around his eyes, mouth and neck had deepened and multiplied, but his sharp green eyes hadn't dimmed, and they were narrowed and trained on Ty. "I asked a question."

Lysander stepped aside with apology splayed across his face. "I'll let the Prophet be alone with you, Agent." Ty extended his hand, and when Lysander shook it, his eyes widened. Ty had palmed his business card and left it with his brother in case he wanted to reach out.

"Agent Granger, I've already told you that you can't have access to the list. You've wasted your time coming here."

"Women are dying. My friend has died. I'm not leaving this place until you speak with me." He had no legal grounds, and Rand could easily call the police to have him escorted off the property. But Rand heaved a sigh and frowned at Lysander as he opened the door wider.

"Fine. But I'll only speak with you," he said.

"You will—"

Owen's throat clearing paused his words. "I'll be out here." He leaned in. "This is about Cami," he whispered. "Whatever we have to do for her."

Ty nodded and entered the house. For as many children running around as there were, the home was immaculate. Guess that's what dozens of wives got you. Rand's gait was rigid and his mouth silent as they walked the length of the first floor to his office located in the back of the house, where he had an incredible view of the mountains. As a child, Ty had loved to visit his father's office and pretend he was a mountain climber.

Rand eased into his massive office chair, and Ty caught a whiff of his pipe tobacco and a hint of lemon left behind from a good dusting. Rand stared at him and for a brief moment, Ty recognized a flash of regret and a fatherly perusal. "You had such potential. You know I had been praying and felt you would become the next Prophet, not Garrick."

Ty reared his head back. "I never wanted that."

"It wasn't about what you wanted but what God wanted. I was going to throw a party and surprise you with the calling. Then Garrick discovered what you'd done to Bexley—his bride-to-be—and I knew it would be impossible then. Public scandal. I had no choice but to disfellowship you. I've been disappointed in you since then. I actually thought when you called you might be begging for forgiveness, which is within my power to grant."

Rand had been angry that Ty hadn't wanted to return into his good graces, and not giving him the list was punishment. If Ty could attempt to find common ground, soften him up, Rand might give him what he wanted. "Why did you allow Garrick to have Bexley's hand? You knew I loved her and wanted to marry her. That's bothered me all these years and may be why I never returned for your forgiveness. I thought you didn't care about me like you cared about Garrick." Ty had learned from the master that a lie would sell better if it held a kernel of truth.

Rand's expression softened, exactly as Ty had hoped. "I always loved you, Tiberius. But I didn't think Bexley Hemmingway was the right match for you. She was from a good family, but I thought she filled your heart with rebelliousness. Like coming to me about the little sister. I know that was her influence. She had too much influence over you, and I'd been contemplating what to do about the two of you when Garrick asked for her hand. I saw it as a sign from God you were to carry out the office of Prophet after I went to be in paradise. You need a clear head with no female influence to be a good leader."

How did he not recognize his own insanity?

Ty's jaw hardened, but reasoning or arguing with a lunatic wasn't going to fix the past, mend the future or get him what he needed now. The list. "I suppose Garrick's been reinstated now."

He hit a few keys on his computer, and the printer whirred. "You know nothing. God has excommunicated Garrick from the prophetic office. Dalen will take my place."

What? Ty had dozens of swirling questions. Rand wouldn't answer him. No point asking. But he wanted to know what Garrick had done. Had his sadism escalated?

Rand swiped the two-page list from the printer. "I'll give you this. But it's all I'm giving you. If you change your mind, you'd be the first FBI agent in the Family."

Oh, he'd love that. A federal agent in his pocket when allegations of child abuse came knocking. No thanks. Ty accepted the list. "Thank you for this." He pretty much wanted to burn the rest of this place to the ground.

"Tiberius, what kind of evidence do you have that someone from this Family is murdering those innocent girls?"

"Someone embedded the Family's logo on their tattoos." No point hiding it from Rand. He wouldn't go to the press with damaging information about the Family.

Rand frowned. "That only proves someone knows how to tattoo our logo. It doesn't prove it's someone who was once a part of the Family. You've considered that, haven't you?"

No. He hadn't. Someone wanted him to believe that this killer was also the Fire Ice Killer. But he might not be. The logo was there leading them to the Family, but Rand was correct. What if the killer was toying with him yet again and leading him down a path he wanted Ty to take?

Puppet strings.

Maybe he wanted him to come here and face his past simply to force him to do something he'd vowed never to do again.

Who would know this about him?

He marched outside and stepped inside the SUV. "I got the list."

"Well, it's something." Owen buckled up. "Cami's cell phone provider turned over her texts and calls along with all the dates and time stamps. Selah's been combing them from the past year, but hasn't found anything tying Cami to our killer. She was communicating with this guy through an app or phone service that doesn't store information on their servers at all or for very long. He was smart and she fell for it. With all her past experience with men and her knowledge from working with the SCU, she knew how to vet a dude. He was clever enough to gain her trust. He probably used her personal past to his advantage, telling her exactly what she wanted or needed to hear to drop her guard."

Ty had come to the same conclusion. Their killer had talked to Skipper on WhatsApp and he probably talked to Cami that way, but wouldn't that have been a red flag? "He had to be a sweet liar." He was yanking Ty's chains too. Why did Ty believe everything written in those notes to him was true? This killer was a liar, manipulating Ty and the team, and he was over it.

"You learn anything else inside there?" Owen asked.

Ty pushed the ignition button and glanced in his rearview mirror as a car pulled in behind them. "Hold up," he mumbled. The driver's door opened and a tall man with thick dark hair and sunglasses strutted out. "I thought he was out of town."

"Who?"

"My brother Garrick."