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Obsession is what will finally set me free.”
Isla
New York, New York
Three Months Earlier
Isla
I knock on the door three times before pressing on the handle and entering, plastering a smile on my face. “Chief Grayson.” I greet him as he occupies the chair behind his desk, wearing his uniform while his massive form fills the space.
His gray hair and pale skin contrast with his green eyes that scan me like a hawk. The indifferent expression he gives me sends panic through my veins, and I groan inwardly, already anticipating the lecture coming my way in full force.
After all, I went against his orders, again.
Almost jeopardized an entire undercover operation that took months to plan, again.
Ran off after a criminal because he reminded me of him, again.
Simply put, the list of my sins grows larger by the second, and without thinking much, I say, “I’m sorry.” His brow lifts, and he leans back on his chair, which doesn’t really help the nerves eating at me, but I’m seriously concerned I’ve crossed the line from where there will be no return. It’s a wonder he let me stay with him all this time without kicking my ass out of here years ago.
“What exactly are you sorry for, Isla?”
Okay, so he won’t make it easy for me, and why would he? The man’s patience needs to be rewarded for all the bullshit I’ve put him through over the years.
“For blowing off my cover in front of a suspect, and then instead of following him so he’d keep his mouth shut, I ran off to chase someone else.” Even I wince at this, grateful for my partner who caught the criminal wanted for three assault charges and robberies. “There is no excuse for my behavior.”
“We both know you aren’t sorry, and there is always an excuse.” I lock my hands behind my back, despising that he can see them tremble from the constant anger in me whenever he brings up this topic. “It’s been almost thirteen years, Isla.” A beat passes while my heartbeat speeds up. “Thirteen years is a long time.”
An agonizing scream echoes through the space while heavy chains keep me locked in place, glued to the cross right in the middle of the church. Despite the pounding in my head, I manage to lift it long enough to see my mother being stabbed right in the middle with a silver blade, the blood spilling everywhere and smearing the white-as-snow clothes of the murderer, who wears a plastic mask. “Please,” my mother begs just as he twists the knife in her and then removes it, the blood pouring from her while she drops to her knees. “Please, don’t hurt her,” she begs him, and I open my mouth to call after her while tears stream down my cheeks, but no sound comes from my throat.
He must have damaged my vocal cords when he wrapped a rope around my throat and squeezed it so tight I couldn’t breathe.
Instead of replying to her, the murderer laughs. The sound sends chills down my spine, and he clicks his tongue. “Where would the fun in that be?”
“You won’t ever let it go, will you?” Chief’s question forcefully pulls me away from the memories that haunt me every single day, and I focus my attention back on him, for the first time seeing rare traces of softness on his face. His cruel temper is legendary among us all, and it’s a wonder he still hasn’t retired because he isn’t liked much. “When your parents died all those years ago, I promised myself to take care of you.” I press my thumb inside my palm, ordering myself to stand still even though the last thing I want to hear right now is what my parents would have wanted me to do. “As your godfather, that was my responsibility.”
“Uncle Grayson…”
“Even when a sweet little girl who dreamed about becoming a historian decided to be a police officer just to catch her parents' killer, I went along with it. I should have stopped it right there.” I hang my head, hating to see his disappointment when his kindness was always absolute. “Ironically, I thought you’d be protected under my nose, but your need for revenge cannot be controlled.”
“That’s not true. I solved many cases.” While I will admit I won’t be winning best anything awards anytime soon, I’ve done the job well ever since he hired me.
I dedicated all my time to countless unresolved cases, collecting information and connecting dots all over states so the serial killers who committed the crimes ended up behind bars.
“Yes. You’re good and have great instincts, but they all go out the window the minute you think you have a lead on him.” He taps on the stack of folders next to him. “All these cases almost failed because you got distracted.”
“That’s not—”
I jump in place when he slams his fists on them, anger flashing on his features while his voice drops a few octaves, indicating he has reached his limit and no longer wants to soften his blows for me. “You’re unfit to be a police officer, Isla, until you sort your own problems.”
I bristle at what he says even though it has merits. “I found the lead. He’s alive. He has done it to another family just weeks ago.”
He slides his finger through the stack and takes out one of the folders before flipping it open, several pictures of chopped flesh and blood coming into view. “The man has been dead for probably a decade, Isla. No one goes this long without sustaining his cravings, and this”—he taps on the pictures—“is a copycat and not him.” He points at the victim’s sliced throat. “You see this cut? It lacks his expertise.”
“No!” I reply stubbornly, knowing full well that this was the Church Killer's intention all along. Kill everyone and leave all the clues, only for the police to doubt his modus operandi and not link the cases. “It’s him. I can feel it.” Saying all this makes me feel like a broken record because no one believes me.
Or rather, he thinks I’m so thirsty to catch the serial killer who wiped my entire family years ago that I’d settle for anything.
