I follow her to the door. She turns to look at me when she has it open. “For what it’s worth, I never doubted you. I hope you’ll believe it.”
I don’t. You don’t come to someone’s home at six fucking am to kick them off a case and expect them to believe bullshit like that. I still give her a small nod. I don’t have time for a fight. I don’t have time for anything else, apparently.
She leaves, closing the door behind her. I drop my head against it, just taking a second to acknowledge just how fucked I am right now. Pursuing the only lead I have right now will hurt the man I love. But I have to investigate. Despite how much those accusations make me want to curl back into my bed and never leave, I have to find Sam’s role in the murders.
Maybe if I have more evidence, Elliot would believe me when I tell him I trust him. It’s just that I have to trust my instincts too. You know, the same instincts that led me to chase him until I discovered his secret and made him mine. This time, my instincts are telling me Sam is hiding something from me, and from the looks of it, from Elliot, too. So, I have to chase this lead.
What if Sam really is the killer? Will I arrest him? I can’t think about that right now.
Bree and Sloan have been checking on the alibis of all the relatives of Elliot’s victims, and according to their last report, we have no other suspects.
Mickey butting his head against my knee reminds me I’m wasting precious time here.
I get him ready for a quick run. Maybe some fresh air would help untangle my thoughts. Maybe I’ll stumble upon a fresh suspect on the way to Mickey’s favorite tree.
But I know one thing for sure, if Sam is the one standing between Elliot and his freedom, he’s going to pay for it.
***
The car pulls out of the driveway of the house, with its small yard and long concrete path. The porch light is on, making the dark red door stand out. It’s all too familiar. The new rental car that was just parked in Elliot’s driveway isn’t.
Where could Sam be going this late at night? I can feel Elliot inside the house. It shouldn’t be possible. He’s too far away with walls and a metal case between us, but I can smell him from here. Almost feel his warmth from across the street.
I don’t linger on the feeling. Instead, I start my engine and follow the car.
I spent the day learning as much as there is to learn about Sam online, which, unsurprisingly, isn’t a lot. Parents died when he was nineteen, probably still in college with Elliot. Sister died when he was a kid, cause of death unknown. But I have my guesses. No specialized education after college. Nothing to account for his super tech skills.
As per his social media, he has been living in New York for five years. Before that, he lived in Austin, Boston, Chicago, and here in LA. From the timeline, he must have moved here with Elliot, then went on to hop through cities every few years. Paranoia or boredom?
A genius man with unlimited wealth and no family? It isn’t far-fetched that he’s in no hurry to set up roots. Add a series of murders to that resume, and his lifestyle becomes almost textbook.
He also likes to travel a lot. His social media accounts are filled with pictures from the shadiest bars to remote locations around the world. For someone with endless money, the guy doesn’t live as luxuriously as you’d expect.
Then again, we can’t forget his expensive side hobby. Looking into Sam, it makes a lot of sense how Elliot was able to carry on his secret life as a serial killer.
And that’s exactly why I’m sure Sam wouldn’t give up his entire system, which he spent years building just like that.
The roads are thankfully clear enough that I don’t havetrouble keeping track of the nondescript car. It takes an abrupt exit, and I’m left scrambling to turn at the last minute, but I keep up without blowing my cover.
After a few minutes, the car turns again. I follow it and find myself in a clear street. The distance is enough that his human eyes won’t be able to spot me, but it’s a close call. I keep pace with him until he merges back into traffic.
After fifteen minutes of driving straight, he turns again. The signal made it easier to follow him this time. The man seriously needs to drive better. I follow him through all his twists and turns until he finally stops in front of a high-end restaurant.
I park across the street behind a conspicuous tree, watching him.
He gets out of his car, straightening his suit. Then walks around the car to hand over his key to the valet. He stands there chattering with the valet for ten minutes before going inside the heavy door.
I can’t follow him in, for obvious reasons. I can pretend to run into him, but he’s a smart guy. It’d be too obvious.
So, I wait.
Opening my Bureau phone, I scan through Sloan’s last email while keeping an eye on the door of the restaurant. She’d called over fifty people on the list in the last week, all of them were able to prove they weren’t anywhere near the crime scene when it happened. Bree is cross-checking their claims for proof.
We still have about fifty more to go. Should be done by this week.
Closing the phone, I check my other one for the thousandth time today. Still nothing from Elliot. Not that I’m surprised. The guy doesn’t even text me back when he hasn’t almost broken up with me.
I blow out a breath, clearing my mind. Can’t go there right now.
