Page 54 of Rest In Peace

"Three dead, Ryan. Three notes. One message. This isn't Sarah's doing." My finger jabbed toward the body, Pete Hancock's lifeless form.

"And you're so sure because?" His stance was confrontational, hands on hips, challenging me to convince him.

"Because she was locked up when Pete and Nicki were both killed. It's impossible unless she can be in two places at once." The logic was sound, undeniable.

"Nicki was a suicide," he shot back, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

"I’m telling you. This is the work of someone else. Someone calculating. And they're still out there." I kept my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Damn you and your FBI profiling." Ryan's anger seemed to wrestle with the notion, his brow furrowed.

"Think about it," I pressed on. "The killer is playing a game, and Sarah is just another pawn."

"Or maybe you're playing me." But now his accusation held less venom, more searching.

"The truth isn't always comfortable, Ryan. But it's necessary." I locked eyes with him, willing him to see past his resistance.

"Comfortable?" He snorted, shaking his head. "Nothing about this damn case has been comfortable."

"Then, let's make it right. Together." My offer hung between us, a bridge over tumultuous waters.

"Sarah's not our killer," I reiterated. "But the one we want is laughing at us right now, thinking they've outsmarted the entire department."

"Outsmarted…." His words trailed off, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought.

Ryan's jaw clenched, the muscle ticking like a time bomb. "If there is a serial killer…."

"Then we’re wasting precious time," I cut in, urgency sharpening my words.

“This is still my city, my case." His finger jabbed the air between us, a clear boundary. “Until otherwise is told to me, I’m in charge. And I want you to leave this scene. Now.”

“You’ll regret not accepting my help more,” I said. “Gonna make you look like a fool.”

“I’ll take that chance. Now, please leave.”

“As you wish.”

The sound of my sneakers echoed through the silent corridor as I made for the exit, the tension from our confrontation still crackling in the air behind me. A shiver ran down my spine—not from fear, but anger. Why was this guy so thick-headed? Why was he so set on Sarah being Steven’s killer?

Outside, the sky hung heavy, clouds like dark smudges against the night. A storm was brewing, both in the atmosphere and in the case that lay sprawled out like a twisted puzzle before me. I could feel it in my bones.

"Watch your back, Agent," Ryan called out just as I reached the door.

"Always do," I replied without turning, stepping into the darkness, our unfinished business whispering in the wind.

Chapter 45

THEN:

Sarah's senses clawed their way back through the fog of sleep, tugging her into a reluctant wakefulness. The living room swirled into view, a hazy blend of shadows and muffled sounds. Her head felt heavy, an anchor trying to pull her back down into the depths of unconsciousness.

"Sarah?" The voice cut through the silence, more piercing than the slivers of morning light that snuck past the half-drawn curtains.

Her eyelids, stubborn and weighted, lifted at last. Steven stood there, his presence grounding yet charged with an unspoken urgency. His silhouette was sharp against the soft glow that filtered into the room.

"Sarah, can you hear me?" he persisted, his tone threading the space between concern and impatience.

She tried to reply, to acknowledge him, but her throat was a desert, words lost in the barren expanse. She nodded instead, a slight dip of her chin that took monumental effort. Her gaze found his, locking onto her husband's familiar yet distant eyes.

---