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Blue Harbor
SCU beach house
Wednesday, September 5
7:20 a.m.
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.”
