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The hunt was far from over.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Jake sat in the darkness of his car, the streetlights casting long, eerie shadows on the house he was staking out. He sipped his water and glanced at the dashboard clock, the glowing numbers taunting him with the hours that had ticked by. The killer was supposed to show up tonight, but as time wore on, Jake's conviction waned. He couldn't shake the sinking feeling that the murderer would never come.
His thoughts drifted to Fiona and how she was doing at the clinic. He imagined her there, her red hair pulled back in a frazzled ponytail, her amber eyes scanning every detail, taking it all in. She had a knack for finding the hidden truth, and he hoped she would have more luck than he had tonight.
As he watched the empty street, Jake couldn't help but ruminate over his complicated feelings for Fiona. He hated himself for being hot and cold, confusing her with his mixed signals. But lately, something had shifted within him, and he found himself becoming more sure about what he wanted.
He wanted to be with her, to commit to her, and to tell her exactly how he felt.
But he also understood that, at this point, she might not trust him. He'd flopped on her before, and he knew that this time if he was going to go after her again, he had to be sure he was ready to move forward. Not in private, like he had with Lauren, but very public. He'd disclose it to the chief right away. The thought made him nervous, but at the same time, actually being able to be with Fiona sounded like a dream.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, slamming his fist against the steering wheel. He knew Fiona deserved better than his indecision, and he feared that if he confessed his newfound certainty, she might reject him this time. And she'd have every right to do so.
He blew out a long sigh, his breath fogging up the window in front of him. He had to make a decision soon; he knew that much. He had to choose what he wanted more: playing it safe and staying exactly as he was or going after Fiona with everything he had. At this point, it felt like both options were equally terrifying.
The sound of his phone ringing startled him, jolting him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Fiona's name. He answered quickly, hoping for good news. "Red, what's going on? Did you find anything?"
"Jake, I think I know who the killer is," she said, her voice frantic and breathless. "You need to send backup to Luke Harris's house, check if he's there. I'll text you an address--we need to meet there."
"Luke Harris?" Jake repeated his pulse quickening. "Who is he?"
"A guy who works at the clinic," Fiona explained. "I'll tell you everything when we meet. Just hurry, Jake. I think another woman's life is at risk."
The phone call left Jake's heart racing, and without a moment to spare, he sent officers to Luke Harris's address. Fiona's text arrived seconds later, and as he started the engine, he couldn't shake off the thoughts of her in danger.
He needed to reach her as quickly as possible.
Wheels screeching, Jake sped down the streets like a man possessed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The night was in full force, and an ominous feeling settled in his gut. He knew Fiona, and he knew that whatever she had found must have been strong. He also knew that she had a tendency to endanger her own life, so he hoped she wouldn't act rashly.
***
As Jake pulled up to the address, a small, nice home came into view. The small home was inviting, with white siding and a wide front porch. There were bright yellow shutters framing the windows and a cheerful flower garden at the base of the steps. And yet Jake could sense something was off. Fiona stood on the sidewalk, her shoulders tense and face etched with anxiety. Their eyes met for a brief second, and Jake could see fear in her gaze.
"Luke's not at his place," Jake said as he approached her, trying to sound calm despite the rapid beating of his heart. "Cops called just now."
"Jake, I think he's the killer," Fiona whispered, her voice cracking. "He works at Wellness Therapy, so he has access to the victims' identities. This is Rebecca Sinclair's house. She's a client at the clinic who may have abandoned someone."
"Have you seen any signs of activity?" Jake asked, scanning the surroundings for anything out of the ordinary.
"No, but we can't waste any time. We need to find out if she's safe."
"Alright, let's go," Jake agreed, his jaw clenched with determination. As they moved towards the front door, he couldn't help but notice how close Fiona was walking beside him. In that instant, he felt a strange mix of comfort and dread – comfort from her presence and dread at the thought of losing her.
Jake's gaze darted around the exterior of Rebecca Sinclair's house, his instincts on high alert. The curtains were drawn, and the front door was locked, but something felt off. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved to the side of the house, scanning for any signs of forced entry.
"Jake, look!" Fiona called out from behind him. He turned to see her pointing at an open window. "Someone definitely broke in."
"Stay behind me," Jake ordered, his voice low and tense. He pulled out his gun and approached the window cautiously. Climbing through, he landed softly on the carpeted floor, taking in the disarray of the living room. Furniture was overturned, and personal belongings lay strewn about, clear signs of a struggle.
"Rebecca?" Fiona shouted as she followed Jake inside. They made their way to the kitchen, where a cutting board had chopped carrots on it, and a knife was strewn on the floor.
And there, on the tile, were droplets of blood.
Jake's heart sank as he realized the severity of the situation. He turned to Fiona, her face a picture of fear and concern. "We need to find her now," he said, urgency in his voice. He took out his phone and quickly called the officer he'd spoken to earlier. The man answered right away.
"Hello--"
