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Once they were boarded on the plane to Raleigh, Ty asked, “How are we going to get ahead of this one, Bear? We have nothing concrete for a warrant, but we need that list.”
“I don’t know. I’m going to pray for a break.”
At this point, Ty would take that prayer. He needed anything he could get.
This monster was coming for him full force and willing to extinguish anyone in his path. But unlike a hurricane, this killer was flesh and blood. He could be stopped. He could be put in the ground, and Ty was going to see to it that it happened. He only hoped it was before another person died.
Chapter Ten
Blue Harbor
Bexley Hemmingway’s office
Monday, September 3
10:46 a.m.
The body was not Ahnah.
Bexley’s relief tasted like fresh water from a bubbling brook. For now, Ahnah was alive—or so she hoped. She had to be. Bexley trusted that Ty and the SCU team would be able to solve this case and bring Ahnah home safely. Somewhere out there, though, another family was going through their worst nightmare, and she prayed they’d find comfort in God within the midst of their fiery trial. He was the only hope keeping her afloat.
“Fight, baby sis, fight,” she half muttered, half prayed, and checked her watch. Her client was late. Sometimes after a few sessions, patients refused to show up due to the stress of dealing with the open wound. She hoped that wasn’t the case here, but her client had been wrestling with some past abuse in relationships that went all the way back to an uncle during childhood. If she didn’t show in the next fifteen minutes, she’d call her.
A knock pulled her from her thoughts, and Drew Monroe’s head popped inside. He worked one street over and was a top-notch counselor. He was also her therapist.
“I got your voice mail about a male patient exhibiting parental transference onto you. You want me to assess him and take over his counseling?” he asked, and entered as she motioned him. Having his presence in the room comforted her. After Renee had passed, Drew had helped her work through her trauma.
“I do. I have his file though I haven’t spoken with him about it. He’s not going to like it, and I’m not sure if it’s better or worse passing him on.” She leaned her head back on her office chair and released a pent-up breath.
“How are you doing?” He eased his well-built frame into the chair. His dark eyes matched his dark, thick hair that was pulled back in a man bun. Not many men could pull off the man bun in their mid forties, but Drew wasn’t like most therapists.
“I’m not paying for a session, Drew.”
“I’m not here as a therapist, Bexley.” He cocked his head and crossed one leg over his knee. “I heard they found a new victim this morning. News says her name is Dahlia Anderson.”
She nodded. “Tiberius texted me earlier that it wasn’t Ahnah, but he didn’t go into any other details.”
“And how are you processing him being in your life, on your couch, and knowing that Josiah is his son?” His arms rested lightly on the arms of the chair as he studied her facial expressions and body language.
“It’s surreal. I don’t know how Josiah is going to respond. He’s been so angry lately. Dropping this on him now would wreck his mental state, but putting it off will too. I’m not sure any timing is good. As far as Tiberius, he’s the same and also different. More mature, though he masks it with sarcasm and joking—that’s not anything new. I think he’s more worried than he lets on.”
“You don’t think he believes he can find Ahnah?” A dark eyebrow rose.
“He appears confident, but it’s taking a toll. Seeing his vulnerability makes me want to run to him and help, but he’s not been open about his fears. Probably not to worry me. He never wanted to see me afraid or fretting. He’s a fixer at heart. I dumped what Ahnah was going through on him, and his solution was to fix it, but...”
“It only made things worse, and you think he harbors guilt over that.”
“We both do.”
Drew checked his watch. “I have somewhere I need to be, but why don’t you schedule an hour with me for real? No charge.”
Bexley shook her head. “If it’s a session, I’m paying. End of story.” She handed him Milo’s file. “Let me know if you’d be willing to take him on and we’ll get the ball rolling.”
“Will do. Be careful, Bexley. You’ve made such good progress. I don’t want to see you have a setback because Agent Granger is here unraveling your emotions. Take care of yourself.”
“I will. Thanks for coming by.” She walked him to the door, catching a scent of his aftershave. She peeked into the waiting area, but her ten thirty was still a no-show. Once she closed the door, she pulled Catherine’s file and called the primary number.
Voice mail.
