Page 127 of Unholy Bonds

I finished after hours and typed the useless report. The FBI had officially asked me to be their medical examiner. I printed two copies, and as if Detective Rosario could smell it, he walked in with Agent Hayes. Agent Hayes was a tall man with eyes as sharp as a pike and white hair.

He had been in the business of catching killers for much longer than I was.

I handed them the report. “She’s pristine. We found traces of oxygen bleach, and the makeup was the same as the kind used on Daphne. We even found Daphne’s DNA on Miranda, but there was nothing else.”

Agent Hayes cursed.

“He’s upping his game. Like this is some kind of conclusion, but to what?”

“The letters?” I asked, staring at Detective Rosario.

“He talked about his little love, and this time… he mentioned something about knowing her when they were young.”

Agent Hayes nodded. “He talked about a night she was bathed in blood, that night when she became his god. We believe he met this woman when they were young, and she might have killed someone that night. It might be self-defense because he talked about injustice. And this would have started his unnatural obsession and fixation with this woman. She might not even know who he was.”

My jaw clenched, and my fists involuntarily balled up at my sides as I stared at the agent. The night I killed… the only place he could have seen me would be at the orphanage. That was the only thing that made sense.

But who is Logan Jones?

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember him from the orphanage. I had buried most of my life inside a little black box, trying to escape the memories of my time at the Convent for Sunflower Children. I didn’t remember much, except Tany and Sister Serena.

There were two buildings next to each other that both belonged to the orphanage—one for the boys and one for the girls. We lived, played, ate, and slept separately. The only times we were together were during Sunday masses and at school.

Could I have met him at school? Could he have witnessed me kill Robert Miller by some twist of fate? Sister Serena might know, but I knew she had disappeared two years after she saw me walk out of the chapel bathed in the bastard’s blood.

She protected me, but she paid the price for it.

“That’s sick,” I said as they both studied the body.

“It is. We have to find him soon, or he’ll continue to kill.”

They left the room, and I quickly zipped Miranda into the body bag before sliding her inside the temperature-controlled body drawer and locked it in for the night. I had to go back to her tomorrow, but I knew, deep in my heart, that she wouldn’t tell me anything more.

When I walked out, Ryden quickly stood up.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

“But…”

“I talked with Enzo. Irene is safe. I also talked with Reah, and she found Logan’s phone number, but it’s switched off. She also found out there were art exhibits Logan attended in various cities that coincided with The Strangler’s killings. Not everywhere, but some. She’ll call me as soon as his phone comes online. He’s hiding because he knows you know, and we can’t do anything but wait for now, but he’s going nowhere, not this time. We’ll hunt him and kill him together.”

“I can’t wait for that,” I said, my voice harsher.

Ryden’s eyes widened, and then they gleamed. He gave me a wicked smile that reminded me of the man I had met weeks ago when he was killing Phil. Angel in one eye. Devil in the other.

I couldn’t wait.

48

UNCHARTERED

YARA

We drove back, talking about The Strangler. I wanted to tell him about what Agent Hayes said, but knowing what he knew now, he would easily connect the dots. I couldn’t… I wasn’t ready for him to find out what I was. Not yet.

It made me feel guilty to keep all these secrets from him when he was helping me. But I had to protect myself and Irene first. When we reached home, Ryden prepared sandwiches for us while I changed into yoga pants and an old t-shirt. He pulled my chair out for me, and despite everything, I smiled.

“She is still angry. She didn’t even reply to my message,” I said with a sigh, staring at my phone. I texted Irene, and she read the message. She didn’t bother to reply.

---