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The murder followed by the sinister notes may be a complete coincidence. But what if they aren’t? What if this is how it starts? What if this lunatic gets his jollies out of scaring victims before committing the ultimate crime?
My instincts have never steered me down the wrong path in the past. I refuse to believe they will now.
Nose inches above the ground, Pepper sniffs the air and earth for scents she has been trained to identify. As a dual-purpose K-9 officer, Pepper hunts for several scents. Select drugs commonly found in the area, humans—living or deceased—accelerants, and miscellaneous crime scene evidence.
Right now, I will take the smallest piece of evidence. Anything. Even if it’s only a minor step forward, some momentum is better than nothing.
While Pepper guides us through the woods, my thoughts drift to Kirsten. To the shift in our relationship.
It’s been a week since I read her text and manically drove to her house at four thirty in the morning. I defied the speed limit and blew every stop sign and red light to get to her. And I’d do it again.
Which worries me.
Kirsten and I have known each other for years. We have smiled and flirted and talked shit over breakfast at the restaurant almost every day. On countless occasions, she has lifted my mood. Added a dose of sunshine to my cloudy life. Given me a reason to smile.
The last thing I want is to be deprived of her solace or affection, and that terrifies me more than the fugitive I’m hunting.
The skin near my left collarbone burns as memories of the past flicker through my mind. Pain flares in my jaw and temples as I grit my teeth. “Don’t want to think ofher,” I mutter.
Regardless, an image of Gracie pops into my head. Her frigid brown eyes cutting me in half. Her acrid admission flaying me wide open. A glimpse of her wicked sneer before she straightened her spine and walked out of my life.
Heat claws up my neck to my cheeks. I ball my fingers into tight fists as I will every memory of her away.
“Was all a lie,” I say through gritted teeth.
Gracie didn’t just gut me, she stole my ability to fully trust. She embedded the tiniest speck of doubt in my bones. Made it difficult to confide in someone completely or believe every word out of their mouth.
Hate may be a strong word, but I fucking hate her. For what she did and that she still harbors an inkling of control over me and my life.
Nearly a year post-breakup, I reached the acceptance stage. Visited the tattoo shop and had a reminder permanently etched into my skin.Survive the storm.Determined to never be in this position again, I promised myself I’d never fall in love so carelessly in the future. That I’d go slow and get to know someone before handing them my heart.
A week ago, Kirsten traced the tip of her finger over the swirly font of the tattoo while we lay in her bed. I’d held my breath and waited for her to ask the meaning behind the ink. But she never did.
To say I was grateful is an understatement.
With that single action—her not prying for details I’m uncertain I am ready to disclose yet—the hum she elicits morphed into this persistent, delightful effervescence. A collection of tiny, fizzy bubbles in my chest.
That mini-explosion… I love it with as much force as I despise it. It makes me want something I once thought I had. It makes me want Kirsten more. Makes me want her heart.
Above all, it opens doors to vulnerability. Places I locked up tight. Emotions I shoved in the dark recesses of my mind, determined to never let them see the light of day again.
I want more for my life—love, rapture, to wake up every morning and wrap my arms around my favorite person, a future full of smiles and laughter and growing old together. All it would take is letting go—of the past, of whatshedid, of the reality that none of it wasmyfault, of this incessant bruise on my heart that whispers never to trust the organ again.
Am I ready to release the ghosts of my past and vanquish them for good?
Am I ready to take back the power I so easily handed over in my broken state?
Am I ready to move forward and admit not everyone hurts others with a malicious grin on their face?
Damn, I wish I had definitive answers.
Pepper drops her nose to the ground as she picks up the pace and homes in on whatever new scent has her attention. I snap out of my thoughts and focus on her every move and reaction.
Through the trees, roughly ten yards away, is the boulder where the woman was discovered by the hiker. Last time we approached the crime scene, it was from the north. This time around, I chose to proceed from the east.
In the initial moments, crime scenes are processed with hyperfocus. Our mind rapid-fires to collect as many details as possible before the location gets disrupted. But with that tunnel-vision focus, we sometimes miss minor pieces of the mystery puzzle.
Without that extra boost of adrenaline or a millionwhat-the-hellthoughts clouding my head, I survey the area with fresh eyes and an open mind. Pepper tugs me left, away from the path toward the boulder and into more forestry. With my eyes on her, I keep my mouth shut and let her work.
