Page 13 of His Relentless Mate

“Just be careful, Annika,” Frank warned, his tone serious. “If Larson is involved, he’s dangerous. Don’t underestimate him. If he even suspects you may be on to him, your life could be in danger.”

“No problem,” she said, choosing not to tell Frank about the threat and the near miss. “The police chief is an old friend of mine and he’s working on the case with me.” Mentally she was already piecing together the puzzle and figuring out their next steps. “I’ll keep you updated.”

After ending the call, Annika quickly dressed, the rush of adrenaline propelling her through her morning routine. This new lead changed everything. If Peter Larson was their guy, it meant they were dealing with a serial killer—someone who had managed to fly under the radar for years, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake.

Annika’s thoughts immediately turned to Trace. He needed to know about this. She grabbed her jacket and headed out the door, her phone already in hand to text him as she made her way to the station.

Talked to my partner in Seattle. We may have a new lead. Need to talk ASAP.

Trace was waiting for her when she arrived at the police station, his expression a mix of concern and anticipation. She could tell by the set of his jaw that he had been thinking about last night—about the kiss they had shared and the interruption that had brought it to an abrupt end. But there was no time to dwell on that now. They had a killer to catch.

“Frank called this morning,” Annika said as soon as she reached him, her voice urgent as she took the mug of coffee he was holding for her.

“Let’s take this into my office,” he said, ushering her through the station and then closing the door once they were inside.

“Frank found a connection between Carl Hansen’s murder and a series of unsolved cases along the West Coast. There’s a name…” she looked through her notes, “…Peter Larson. He was close to Hansen and linked to at least two other victims.”

Trace’s eyes narrowed as he processed the information. “Larson… I know that name. He’s been in and out of the business world in Alaska and the Pacific Northwest for years, always skirting the edge of legality but never quite getting caught. If he’s involved in this, it makes sense why we’ve been hitting dead ends.”

Annika nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. “We need to dig into his background, see if there’s anything that ties him directly to the other murders. If we can find that link, we’ll have our suspect.”

“I’ll get the team on it,” Trace said, already reaching for his phone. “In the meantime, we should go through Hansen’s records again, see if there’s anything we missed that points to Larson.”

For the next several hours, they worked together in Trace’s office, their movements efficient and synchronized as they sifted through the evidence with renewed focus. The time passed in a blur as they pieced together the connections between Larson and the other victims, their list of suspects narrowing with each new discovery. The more they uncovered, the more certain Annika became that they were closing in on the killer.

But just as they were beginning to make real progress, Trace’s phone rang, cutting through the silence of their concentration. Trace answered it, his expression darkening as he listened.

“What happened?” Annika asked as soon as he hung up, her heart sinking at the look on his face.

“That was my niece, Tricia…”

“Sue has a daughter?”

Trace smiled. “Yes. She was the one who was giving us crap last night. Apparently, she told her mother. I’ve been dodging calls from my sister all morning. Tricia said the pub was vandalized last night,” he added, his voice tight with anger. “They left a message.”

Annika’s stomach clenched as she followed him out of the station and into his Range Rover. The drive to the pub was tense, neither of them speaking as they navigated the familiar streets. When they arrived, Annika’s breath caught in her throat at the sight.

The front of the pub was a mess. Broken glass littered the ground, and the door hung ajar, its hinges twisted from the force of the break-in. But it was the words scrawled across the wall in red spray paint that made Annika’s blood run cold: Leave it alone, or else.

Trace’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stared at the message, his jaw working furiously. Annika placed a hand on his arm, trying to ground him, but the fury in his eyes was palpable.

“They’re trying to scare us off,” she said quietly. “They know we’re getting close.”

“Damn it,” Trace muttered, running a hand through his hair. “This is my family’s place, Annika. They’re making it personal.”

Annika’s heart ached for him, the pain and frustration in his voice cutting through her own fear. “We’ll find who did this, Trace. But right now, we need to get this mess cleaned up and make sure no one gets hurt.”

After taking pictures of the damage and collecting evidence, they worked together with Sue, Tricia and several employees to clear away the debris and secure the damaged door as best they could. The process was slow, each task made more difficult by the weight of the warning that hung over them. But despite the tension, there was a sense of solidarity between them. She and Trace shared a similar determination to see this through, and they fell into a pattern and rhythm that seemed all too familiar.

As they worked side by side, Annika couldn’t help but think about how things might have been different—how their lives might have turned out if Trace hadn’t left for the military, if she had stayed in Kodiak instead of running off to Seattle. There was a sense of guilt that gnawed at her, a regret that they had lost so much time, so many opportunities to be together. She wondered if maybe fate had conspired to give them a second chance.

“Maybe if I hadn’t left,” Trace said suddenly, echoing her thoughts. His voice was low, filled with the same guilt and uncertainty that she felt. “Maybe if I had stayed, none of this would have happened.”

Annika paused, her hands stilling as she looked up at him. “It’s not your fault, Trace. We both made choices. We did what we thought was best at the time.”

“But was it?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. “Was it really the best choice?”

Annika didn’t have an answer. The truth was, she didn’t know. All she knew was that the past couldn’t be changed, and they had to live with the decisions they had made. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t make new choices about the future.

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