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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.
Asheville, North Carolina
Family of Glory gated community
Thursday, September 6
3:10 p.m.
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.”
