9. CHASE

9

CHASE

RYDEN

I knew I wasn’t alone when I walked into my home. Drawing a knife out of the knife block, I marched toward the back door, which was slightly ajar. My heart raced when I saw the flash of blonde hair disappearing into the rows of trees.

“I’ve been looking for you. And here you are, once again in a place where you don’t fucking belong,” I shouted as I continued to chase her through the woods.

Her steps faltered for a second before she careened toward the trees. No, I wouldn’t let her escape tonight. I had already made that mistake once.

“Don’t let me catch you,” I shouted, and she laughed, her voice mingling with the chilly breeze.

“I have no intention of letting you catch me, Ryden.” That same fucking breathy voice.

“If I catch you, I’ll…” I hurtled toward her, anger pushing me. She stumbled on a tangled root. She was so close. My fingers touched the tip of her blonde wig, but before I could rip it off, she steadied herself and scrambled to the side, hurtling toward a tree.

“You’ll what?” she taunted, clearly underestimating how determined I was this time.

“Kill you. I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Yeah? I have no desire to die,” she breathed out, jumping toward her car, her fingers tightening over the handle.

Gritting my teeth, I leaped over a small bush. Just another minute, and I could wrap my hand around her throat… and…

She hissed under her breath when I slammed her car door closed.

“Fuck, let go,” she said, trying to untangle herself from me as I pressed her against the metallic body of the car. Pushing myself against her back, I caged her in. I was very aware of how soft she felt, how temptingly curvy. It wasn’t the time to notice things like that… but I did, and my cock did, too.

That’s inconvenient!

I heard the sound of her heart racing, but it wasn’t fear. She looked like she was enjoying the chase. What a twisted little thing!

“Who the fuck are you, and what were you doing in my home?” I growled out, pressing the knife against her throat, making sure not to cut her accidentally.

“I was curious about what you did with Phil,” she said. “What did you do with his body?”

This woman is a fucking menace.

What the hell did I do to deserve this?!

Well, murder.

My self-preservation begged me to end her, but a part of me didn’t want to. For all her inquisitiveness, she was still an innocent woman.

Despite the need for blood, I survived only because I had chosen to kill the worst of the worst. If I killed her, I’d be knowingly distorting the fragile balance of my twisted morality.

“Curiosity, they say, killed the fucking cat. It might become true in your case, Blondie,” I said, tugging her wig forcefully, making her groan.

“You won’t kill me,” she said, her voice sure and steady. “Let me go, Ryden. I promise your secrets are safe with me. I’ve no plan to disturb your life.”

“What are you then? Some kind of murder groupie?”

She laughed, clearly amused by that. “Something like that. I read Art of Murder, too.” Art of Murder was the magazine for true crimes, and I wrote in it.

She stomped on my right foot, and a scream left me when she stabbed me—a scream that didn’t sound manly at all. Using my distraction, she untangled herself from me, entered her car, and sped away, leaving me staring at her car’s old ass once again.

I hobbled toward my home, cursing her, cursing myself, cursing everything. I had misjudged her. She wasn’t just prepared; she was a pro at this. Like she had spent all her life chasing killers.

I had no idea how she grabbed her blade without moving an inch.

What a sneaky bitch! I shouldn’t be impressed, but I was.

I opened the door and limped in, wincing with each step. My phone rang, startling me. “Enzo? What?”

“I was—”

“You know what, just come to my fucking house. I can’t deal with this by myself.”

“What crawled up your ass and died, Ry?”

“That fucking murderous Barbie. She was in my fucking home.”

“Tell me you caught her.”

“No. She escaped. I’m also sporting a war wound on my fucking thigh. Buy me some painkillers before you come. I feel like I’m dying.”

“What a big baby. For a serial killer, you whine too much.”

“Fuck you, Enzo.” I hung up before limping toward the tap. Grabbing a small bowl, I filled it with water before snatching the first-aid kit from the cabinet. The cut wasn’t deep, but it still hurt like a bitch.

I had just finished patching up my knife wound when the door opened. Enzo walked in with my medication. I took the pill from him and swallowed it down with a glass of water.

“Do you want me to take you to a doctor?” he asked, eyeing the blood-stained gauze littering the counter.

“No, the last thing I need is a doctor.”

“So, I assume you let her go again?” Enzo asked, his voice sarcastic, as if it was entirely my fault.

“I didn’t let her do anything. She stabbed me in my thigh, fucking too close to my dick, and then she jumped into her stupid car and drove away.” I was almost whining. Shit.

Enzo nodded with a leer. “She might not be normal, you know. She could be someone like you.”

“Thank you. That’s what I need to hear, that I’m not normal,” I said, giving him a bright smile.

“Oh, stop being so fucking sarcastic. You know what I meant,” Enzo said with a growl. “Do you need anything to eat?”

“Maybe that woman’s heart. Find her and roast that for me, will you?”

“Well, I’ll try.” Enzo rolled his eyes as he pulled a stool next to me and sat down. “So, did you find anything?”

“That her hair is indeed a wig, but a costly wig. Also, she’s a fucking menace,” I said with a curse. “I should have just cut her throat when I had the chance.”

“Oh, she doesn’t fit your… you know, killing system.”

“I know, but I should have. I’m not going to prison because she’s a fucking busybody.”

“If she was just curious, she wouldn’t have come to your house. She’s not just nosy. She’s dangerous.” He was right. It wasn’t just curiosity that brought her here. Any normal person would have been put off after seeing someone kill a man. Not her, though.

“I’m going to find her and then make her regret this, all of this,” I said, standing up. “Going to bed. My head’s fucking killing me.”

“I’m leaving. I have a funeral to prepare for tomorrow,” Enzo said as he stood up. “Did you check if she had taken anything from your house?”

“No, I didn’t. I’ll check tomorrow,” I said, letting out a yawn. Enzo chuckled and nodded. He walked out, telling me to lock my door like I was a fucking idiot before he drove away on his motorbike.

Slamming the door and locking it, I hobbled up the stairs. I opened the door to my room and almost stumbled back. Her scent was a sucker punch to my throat.

It was so distinct, the perfume. Something erotic, yet peaceful. She smelled the same at the pub. She was in my fucking room. I fell onto the bed and cursed. She was in my bed. IN MY BED.

My cock strained against my boxers, and I groaned, wondering what the fuck was wrong with me. Why was I so aroused at the image of her in my bed, her long body spread over the covers, naked?

“Shit. I need to check my fucking head. This is insane.”

The nameless woman stood in front of me, her soft skin gleaming in the moonlight. When I walked closer, she slowly peeled her skin off until there were only bones coated with blood.

“What are you doing?”

“Show me what you hide underneath that skin of a lamb.” She sprinted toward me, her hands poised outward. Her claws dug into my cheeks until she was cutting through my skin…

Fuck.

I woke up, cursing. I took a cold shower. Even after the shower, I felt like a stretched elastic that was going to snap any second. My phone rang. “Nat? What’s it?”

“Will you be here today?”

“Yes, I have a few things to finish first. I’m going to meet a source, and then Detective Rosario. I’ll be there later.”

“I wonder when the detective is going to file a restraining order against you.”

“Don’t you give him any ideas, Nat,” I said, grabbing my files and pushing them inside my backpack.

“I have a new story, and Thatcher is salivating. I’m calling to ask you about your opinion,” Natalia said. I knew she hated Thatcher as much as I did, but her hands were tied.

“Well, if you want the story to come to nothing, give it to him,” I said with a scoff and Natalia laughed.

“That’s what I thought. God, I hate him.”

“I know. Bye.” I hung up. Grabbing a cup of coffee, I drove toward Down On Luck.

The pub was deserted, and it looked so different from how it looked at night. With a knock, I walked in. “Mr. Doyle, I’m Ryden Sinclair.”

“I called Patrick. He was the one who was bartending that night.”

“Thank you, Mr. Doyle.”

“Of course. It’s not a problem. Patrick will be here in a few minutes. Do you want anything to drink?”

“No. Thank you.” I took a stool. It took another five minutes for the bartender to come. He instantly remembered her.

“She was… umm, blonde, and she tipped me twenty bucks for a ten bucks tab that night. I’d seen her a few times before. She’d always come alone and sit in the same place. She never used her card, though.”

“If she comes back again, can you give me a call?” I asked, handing him my business card and a fifty. He looked conflicted. “It’s for a story I’m writing, and she’s a key piece to that story.”

“Yes, Mr. Doyle told me who you are. If she comes, I’ll remember to call you.”

Thanking him, I walked out with a grin.

The next step was the Detroit Police Department.

Detective Rosario’s eyes widened as soon as he noticed me walking into the DPD like I owned the fucking place.

“?Mierda!”

“?Cómo estás?” I said with a smirk as the detective slammed his hand against the desk with a grunt.

“I was good before you walked in, Sinclair. Twice in a week.”

“You’re a funny man, Detective,” I said with a grin. The man scowled. Detective Myers, Detective Rosario’s partner, let out a long breath, shaking his head.

“What do you want this time, Sinclair? ?Pareces mi puta sombra!”

“I want to talk about Daiken and…”

“You’re like a dog with a bone.” Detective Rosario sighed. “Why are you still haunting me about that, Sinclair? Olvídalo! The pendejo who did it to the poor girl got his punishment!”

“Because it’s not Daiken, not that he doesn’t deserve that, but it’s not him. I was sure it was him when you first arrested him, but then I came across Nikki Singh, and… Daiken was in prison when she was killed. The tattoo…”

“Damn it, Sinclair,” the detective said with a grunt. “Girls these days follow each other blindly. It could be a trend.”

“You’re a good detective. You should know.”

He sighed. “There’s just too much evidence against Daiken. I don’t—”

“Just take a look.”

“The tattoo might not even be the same one.”

“These runes… they have meanings. This one on the left is Algiz, which means life, or when inverted, means death. The one on the right is Jera—harvest, and the one at the top is Inguz. It means new beginnings. You can see from here at the top… that’s this mark—Inguz. This could be related to a cult…” I paused, composing my face. “A sex racket.”

Usually, I preferred to conduct my own investigation. It afforded me the autonomy to determine the next steps without any interference. Killing would be difficult when the cops were involved. But I was going nowhere after three months of investigation and getting desperate.

“Or…” I said what I had been thinking for months now. “There’s a serial killer who just started exploring.”

The detective looked at me like I had lost a few screws in my head before he grabbed the very cold coffee sitting sullenly on his desk.

“Hijo de puta,” he cursed, spitting the coffee out. “I get where you’re going with this, Sinclair. Your instincts are usually on point, but without concrete proof…”

“Proof? Are we supposed to wait for him to kill again?” I asked, even though I knew he hadn’t said anything I wasn’t thinking about.

“What do you expect me to say, Sinclair? You’re no stranger to this game,” the detective said as he opened his drawer and pulled out a file. He grabbed a note from the file and handed it to me. “Take a look at this. It’s a copy of the note that hijo de puta sent to Sofia.”

When I find you, Sofia, I’ll touch every inch of you, and you’ll scream at me to stop, bitch, but I won’t stop. For all those times you looked down on me, I’ll make you look up at me. When I’m done with you, I’ll fucking bury you in water.

Gritting my teeth, I handed the note back to the detective. Bastards like Daiken didn’t deserve to live outside, but…

“I understand what it feels like to be possessed by a case. I caught the culero who killed Sofia. We’ll catch Nikki’s killer, too.”

“You didn’t catch Sofia’s killer, but for all our sake, I hope you’re right.”

The detective gave me a nod.

I was walking out of the police station when I saw Doctor West walking in, humming a song, holding onto a brown folder. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her heels made a sharp clicking sound against the tiles.

She didn’t notice me staring at her, and I was grateful she hadn’t noticed me. She was gorgeous in her black business suit, but what caught me off guard was the song. There was something familiar about it. I had heard it somewhere, but I had no idea where the hell I’d heard it.

Shaking my head to dispel the odd feeling in my stomach, I walked out and drove toward work.