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From the moment I learned the truth about Nick, all I wanted was to be left alone. To raise my daughter to the best of my ability and give her the life I never had. To find my own happiness.
To maybe find love.
Now that I was on the brink of having all those things, Nick was back, threatening to take everything from me again.
“As I suggested a few minutes ago,” Agent Curran cut through the silence, “it’s my belief Nick has help. His cuffs and shackles were gone. He wore street clothes. Has a cell phone. Neighbors mentioned seeing a work truck parked on the street Saturday morning a few hours after the crash, yet nobody was having work done. Which tells me this may have all been planned.”
“Do you think perhaps Daxton Shea might be involved?” I suggested.
“Daxton Shea?” Wes inquired, obviously confused. “What would he have to do with this?”
“Ethan stopped by Saturday morning,” I began, doing my best to not reveal too much information since Wes still hadn’t shared anything about the recent murders with Londyn.
“Who’s Ethan?” Londyn’s brows scrunched.
I glanced at Wes, unsure what to say.
“A friend of Lachlan’s sister’s,” Wes stated before anyone else could respond.
I gave him a pointed glare, then looked back at Londyn.
“Ethan found an old incident report Lucy Shea presumably filed with the RA of her dorm while she was attending Brown, which happened to be the same time Nick was getting one of his PhDs there,” I explained. “The report documented a rape that had Nick’s signature all over it. Based on this and the fact Daxton was born nine months later, it appears Nick may have a son out there. A son who volunteers for the prison outreach ministry that visits inmates. And given the Shea’s vast wealth—”
“Let’s not go spouting conspiracy theories,” Agent Curran admonished, holding up his hand. “I’m going to tell you exactly what I told Ethan when he shared this with me. We need more than a few pieces of circumstantial evidence to implicate anyone in something as serious as this. Especially someone like Daxton Shea.”
“Then what are we supposed to do?” I asked, growing more and more frustrated with every passing second. “Sit around and do nothing while Nick could be anywhere? Could be attacking another helpless woman?”
“We’ve put out an APB on the work truck neighbors saw around the vicinity of the Griffin’s house on Saturday. But based on what we know of Nick, it’s doubtful he’s still driving it, so we’re also combing through stolen vehicle reports.”
“That’s your big plan?” Wes’ lips twitched, his own irritation showing. “APBs and stolen vehicle reports? Nick’s too smart to steal a car.”
“Plus, if Ethan’s hunch is right and Daxton is involved, he could buy him any number of cars and pay cash,” I added.
“I didn’t say that was my entire plan. It’s merely part of it.”
“Then what’s the other part?” Londyn asked. “You have to do something to catch him. He can’t just—”
“I beleve Nick left the Griffin’s house under the impression he killed Jason and Christine,” Agent Curran interrupted. “Hell, even her sister, a nurse, initially believed her to be dead when she walked into their house Sunday morning to meet Christine for their daily run. It wasn’t until she woke up after surgery this afternoon that anyone fully understood what happened.”
“What does that have to do with your plan?” My brows furrowed. “And why hasn’t this attack been all over the news? Don’t you think the public deserves to know what Nick’s done? How dangerous he is?”
“I do, but the fact it’s been reported as a murder-suicide and not connected to him in any way actually works to our advantage. After all, if he knows we’re on to him, he wouldn’t fulfill the next part of his ritual.”
“The next part of his ritual? You mean giving me a piece of jewelry?”
“No. There’s a step before that.”
I shook my head. “I don’t—”
“With each of his victims, Nick attended their visitation, funeral, burial, or reception. Did he not?”
I blinked, sinking into the couch. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“So if we keep with the initial news story that it was a murder-suicide between a couple experiencing marital problems, Nick may attend one of these functions for Christine. So that’s what we’re going to do. Stage a fake memorial for her. He won’t go to a memorial for her husband. He was a necessary casualty.”
“Do you really think it’ll work?” I asked. “That Nick will risk getting caught in order to attend a memorial service simply because it was once part of his ritual? Correct me if I’m wrong, but raping a woman with a goddamn knife wasn’t part of his ritual, yet here we are.”
“I don’t know anything for certain,” Agent Curran replied calmly. “But I do know Nick. Just like you do. I’ll be the first to admit he’s one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever dealt with. But let’s not forget what drives him. What forces him to act so…sadistically.”
“What’s that?”
“His obsession. With control. With revenge. With ritual.” He paused. “And with you. When torn between one of his obsessions and his rationale, his obsession will always win out. Always,” he emphasized. “I’m certain it will win out here, too. But this time, we’ll be waiting.”
