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They wouldn’t.
“What about your daughter?” Violet asked.
John was torn. After Callie died, he’d needed help raising Stella, so he’d moved to Memphis, where his sister lived and could give him a hand. Stella saw her cousins as siblings and would love being there while he was here, but he had grown used to being home with her every night. “If my sister tells me she’s having a rough time, I’ll leave. But for now, I’m in.”
Asa shook his hand again. “My team, my rules, Orlando.”
John caught Violet’s mouth twitch. Asa Kodiak was known for being large and in charge, but fair and excellent at his job. John had no problems submitting to authority. Asa was showing him courtesy. And John believed it was divine.
“Welcome to the team then,” Violet said.
Violet herself was top-notch. Reminded him somewhat of Callie. Never showed an ounce of fear. Like Callie had been, Violet might be attracted to danger too.
John was certainly attracted to her.
But attraction was where it would stay. For the very reason he’d lost Callie—dangerous job. And he had a sneaky feeling Violet was married to it.
“I see a game of rock-paper-scissors in the near future as to who gets stuck working with us as a liaison.” Ty chuckled.
“Just because that’s how you and Owen divvy up responsibility doesn’t mean it’s how everyone does.” Fiona gave him a stern expression.
“Doesn’t mean they don’t either.” Ty checked his watch. “It’s been twenty minutes. Let’s vote. Who thinks Owen’s dead?”
John raised his eyebrows. For a man on an elite team, Ty didn’t seem to be too serious about it.
Owen emerged from the tree line holding up his arm and pointing to his watch. “Twenty-one minutes, bruh. I see no SAR.”
“Figured you were dead, making a search and rescue pointless, bruh.” Ty shrugged, but John sensed the deep loyalty and brotherhood between the two men. Violet had quietly slipped away. Was John the only one who’d noticed? It was hard to not notice when her presence wasn’t around.
As if he had no choice, he moved from the conversation and found her near the cave entrance. “Whatcha doin’?”
Violet slowly pivoted in his direction, her face devoid of expression. He’d never actually seen her teeth revealed in a smile, and he felt a pang in his chest. What would keep one from a big genuine grin? Even on occasion?
“Wondering what significance this cave holds. Why this one? I know it’s Owen’s job to figure out why the killer chooses his locations, which can help us find him, but...” She touched the limestone with her gloved hand and ran her finger down the side. “Did he play here as a child? Experience a traumatic event inside? Or was it simply convenient?”
John understood. “I’ll leave you to let the cave talk.”
Her eyebrows briefly raised. “Why do you say it like that?”
“When I worked homicide, I often went in alone. The crime scene talks if we’re listening. Kinda like a lingering voice that wants to speak up, speak out from that dark place. Reminds me of Abel’s blood crying out for justice and reaching God’s ears. Places...people talk.”
She cocked her head, and a small hmm escaped her lips. He turned to leave when she stopped him.
“You can stay. Maybe it’ll talk to you too.”
Somehow he knew her invitation wasn’t airy. Not one she often offered.
To stay.
“Thank you.”
Remaining quiet, he tiptoed through the trees, the grass reaching his waist in a few spots. Rock and loose boulders cluttered the area as he climbed and stumbled his way around the side of the cave, looking for other entrances and for...something.
He turned and surveyed his surroundings. Wait a minute. What was that? He watched his step through the high grass until he met a tree line and a worn footpath carved through the middle of the forest. “Violet!”
She appeared from the high grass, her windbreaker buttoned and debris dotting her dress pants. “You find something?”
He pointed to the trail. “Someone—or multiple someones—travel this enough to keep it bare. Wanna see where it leads?”
