Page 5 of Fleeing From Sin


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The cold air that slammed into her face and made it rather hard to breathe was most welcome, and she didn’t even bother to lift her scarf to protect the sensitive skin on her neck. The bitter gusts were invigorating, and she didn’t even mind pausing at the intersection.

Odd, considering that she couldn’t stand to be cold.

It was one of the reasons that she kept a small space heater in her office, much to everyone else’s chagrin. One would think that her office was a sauna according to her team of colleagues.

Once the pedestrian light turned green, Brook crossed the street.

Instead of continuing down the sidewalk to her office building, she waited patiently to walk across the main street so that she could pick up her large caramel macchiato. The quaint café had an online ordering site that allowed a customer to place an order, pay via a credit card, and then simply pick it up at the counter in a designated amount of time. She’d had to adjust her standing order after discovering that her flight had been delayed yesterday, and her favorite morning beverage should be waiting for her. She might be running close to four hours late, but the fact that she was following her usual routine gave her comfort.

The sky was entirely overcast without the appearance of clouds, which afforded Brook the luxury of not shielding her eyes. All that could be seen was a large sheet in the color of dull grey. Maybe that was the reason she noticed the smudge on the display window. She grimaced at the reddish smear, but she was forced to focus on the individual exiting the café.

“Sorry,” the male subject muttered as he held the door open for Brook.

“No worries,” she replied as she stepped inside.

“Good morning!”

It was custom for the baristas to greet their customers. Brook had gotten into the habit of nodding in response. Seeing as there was more of a crowd at this time of the morning compared to before the break of dawn, she had to sidestep three patrons about to exit the café. Once they’d cleared from her path, she was able to reach the counter without any more interference. There were three to-go cups with sleeves lined up on the granite countertop, and she quickly collected the one with her name written on the side.

She should have alerted the closest barista that there was some type of smudge mark on the window, but something about the color of it had bothered Brook. She wanted to get a closer look before letting the staff know they needed to wipe down the front display window. Stepping to the side once more to avoid running into someone else wanting to grab their morning beverage, she found herself grateful that the barista had inserted a splash stick into the lid.

As Brook finally made her way to the front, she came to an abrupt halt near the door. The reddish mark on the display window was maybe four feet off the ground and close enough to the corner that one might not even notice it being there. It also hadn’t been put there accidentally by a customer.

“Is that a bloody handprint?” a woman asked in disgust as she came to stand beside Brook. “I told my husband that I didn’t want to live in the city. Did he listen to me? No.”

Brook made sure to take note of the stranger who was about to exit the café.

Unfortunately, the woman’s day was about to get a hell of a lot worse.

“Ma’am?” Brook called out as she finally tore her gaze off the bloody handprint. “I’m sorry, but you can’t leave. You’ll need to take a seat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This coffee shop is now a crime scene.”

Brook hadn’t bothered to sugarcoat the situation, because the café was about to be closed for business. It was imperative that she freeze the scene immediately.

As a profiler, it was her job to recognize the prolific signatures of active and inactive serial killers throughout the country. Three years ago, an unknown subject—better known as an unsub—had haunted the city streets of Washington D.C. He had been known to stalk his victims for weeks before abducting and killing them. Their bodies had never been found, but the unsub had made sure that the women’s loved ones knew of their demise with a single, bloody handprint...at the very place that they had gone missing.

Chapter Three

Brooklyn Sloane

February 2023

Monday — 11:43am

“Didyouthinkthatwe were bored or something?” Theo Neville asked as he took the cup of coffee that Brook held out to him. “You were only gone for three days. It’s not like you needed to go and personally round up a case for us to work on. It wasn’t like we threw a party or anything.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Brook murmured without looking from her tablet. She’d been conducting a basic search of missing women over the past few weeks. Unfortunately, there were a lot of names listed in the database. “Were you able to get the stain out of the couch in the waiting area?”

Theo was a former FBI agent who Brook had recruited to work for S&E Investigations, Inc. over a year ago. He had a natural talent when it came to fieldwork, most likely due to his upbringing by parents who worked in law enforcement. They had fostered his overwhelming determination to seek the truth in the face of adversity.

An unfortunate incident during the line of duty had resulted in the loss of his right eye, which he’d chosen to cover with a black eyepatch instead of utilizing a prosthetic eye. Had he opted to stay with the Bureau, he would have been relegated to desk duty for the remainder of his career. The loss of depth perception and inability to identify targets on his blind side would have kept him from field duty.

In Brook’s opinion, Theo had been too young to be chained to a desk for the rest of his career. His skill level could be put to better use in the field, and he had an innate ability to make others feel comfortable in his presence. His beautiful complexion came from his African American father and his Caucasian mother, which no doubt had caught the attention of the barista. She’d even written her number on the to-go cup, not that he would follow up on the hint due to his recent involvement with Detective Hadley Soerig.

Theo did not strike Brook as a man who would pursue more than one woman at a time.

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