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I watched silently and passively, feeling helpless, as Colton made the dreaded phone call to his parents about his brother’s death. According to him, he hadn’t spoken to them since before he fled his hometown. Now, his first communication with them in so many years is to deliver news that will forever leave them questioning why?
And though he may try to disguise the anguish he feels at having lost his brother, I know that it’s affecting him deeply. They never resolved their issues, never made their peace over the love they shared for one woman. Colton will bear that guilt in the way Colton handles everything: he’ll consume the pain, make it a part of himself. And I’ll be there—in the shadow of our world—to bear it with him.
Quinn is the toughest to uncover, with his thick skin and hard-boiled detective attitude. He comes across as unmovable as a steel beam, and just as dense. But even he’s been pushed beyond his breaking point, the fight inside him surfacing and cracking his tough exterior.
He’s a creaking branch bowing beneath the pressure of this case. Just as everyone is being changed, he won’t come out unscathed. He’ll have his own brand of scars, and he’ll use them to continue to fight the evil of this world. That’s who he is.
I look around from my safe and secluded spot in the conference room, regarding each member of the task force with the same discretion. There is no clear certainty to tonight’s ending. Every single member of this department will be tested and challenged.
Even Carson, with his superior demeanor will fall victim to the unknown. I think he will suffer that more than most; he doesn’t do well with what he doesn’t understand. It’s best if he remains in that dark, for his own survival.
As Quinn gives the final instructions to his task force, Agent Proctor readies his troop of Feds. The combined efforts of both our numbers covering The Lair will ensure the UNSUB doesn’t move unnoticed tonight.
“The Feds are all about staking out the club,” Quinn says, pulling up a chair beside mine. “Told you we could use them. And Proctor located that girl. Turns out, she’s not just a member, she’s a pro.”
I raise my eyebrows. “The UNSUB recruited a prostitute to wear a red wig and dress like me. Not sure how I feel about that.” My tone is rimmed with humor, but that’s only to disguise the disturbed feeling wiggling inside me. The very definition of irony is a pro pretending to be me, when I once played her part. A coincidence or convenience? Everything the UNSUB does is calculated.
When Colton was lured outside the club a few nights ago by a woman who he thought was me, then jumped by the unis staking out the club, at the time, I didn’t see the connection. I assumed Carson had set the trap. But when Colton mentioned her again, sitting at the table where I frequent, I decided it was time to find my doppelganger and put her to good use.
“She confirmed a man from the club paid her. Even gave her the dress and wig to wear,” Quinn says.
“No chance there’s trace on the dress,” I say, knowing the UNSUB made sure to leave no evidence of himself.
He sits back. “It would be just too easy if Locard’s principle applied to this case, wouldn’t it?”
I smile. “The exchange principle,” I say. “Every perp leaves something behind and takes something with him. You continue to surprise me, Quinn.”
He lets my compliment slide. “The dress is with the techs at the lab. But I’m more interested in her description of him.” Quinn presses his fingers to his brow, apparently working out a headache. “It matches Carmen’s description perfectly. The damn UNSUB has been there, this whole time, right in the open, and we never saw him. It feels like he’s not even trying to hide…and we’ve been letting him get away with it.”
I go to lay my hand on top of Quinn’s, then decide against it, and instead reach for my phone. “We’re not letting him get away with anything.” I tap my screen, opening the messages I’ve exchanged with the UNSUB.
We’re just a couple short hours away from initiating the UC operation, and I’m uncharacteristically calm. I’ve done this before, but never involving anyone else. I keep looking for a sign from the UNSUB that he’s backing out—but he’s been anticipating this moment for two years. He won’t disappoint me.
“Sadie?”
I look up. Colton is there, amid the commotion and preparation for the operation, my focal point to keep me grounded.
I turn to Quinn. “I’m going to get ready.”
He nods, and for a brief moment, it looks like he’s about to say something. But just as I won’t offer him comfort with a touch, he won’t unmask his feelings with words.
There’s still too many unresolved things between us before that c
an happen.
He looks away from me. “Make sure you check in for your final briefing before you set out.”
I smile inwardly. “I will.”
* * *
The hollow click of my key turning the lock echos throughout my apartment. I stand here, immobile, feeling the press of Colton’s intense presence against my back. He rests his hand over mine, his strong chest a solid embrace of comfort as he wraps an arm around my waist.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says, nuzzling into my neck.
I inhale his masculine scent; a mix of the club and something indefinably Colton. Sandalwood and cologne, and all male. It bolsters my resolve, and I turn the knob.
My apartment feels void and unlived in. The only time I’ve spent here recently was to rush in and out. The mood of high anxiety still lurks in the chilly air.
