Page 91 of Fractured Fear

Now I’m sitting at my dismal desk, pretending to work while I wait. Waiting is my specialty. Most in my field hate stakeouts, but I enjoy them. I love the moment the fucker realizes I’m there forthem. I love it even more when they run. The thrill of the chase feels like lightning coursing through my veins.

Patiently, I’ll sit here until those two fuckups walk through the door. They were called out for a convenient store robbery first thing this morning but should be back soon.

I feel the grin stretch the skin around my mouth as I pretend to scan Ava Thomas’ case file. Probably shouldn’t be caught smiling while going over the details of a girl’s abduction.

“I’m looking over the Gray file and I’m not so sure it’s connected to the string of kidnappings we’ve been looking into,” Liam says, taking my attention away from my objective.

My background check on Liam came back clean. No skeletons in his closet. Not even a fucking parking ticket.He’s practically a boy scout. He grew up on a cul-de-sac in Pennsylvania, did well in school, brings a bouquet of flowers to his wife every Friday. Even if he isn’t able to come home, he will have them delivered. An all around good guy. The poster child for American living.

In response to Liam’s observation, I just raise my eyebrows. The newbie stammers and tilts his head back down to the file in his hand. Poor guy will get used to my nonverbal communication. It makes him nervous, but oh well. Not my problem he scares easily. I just hope he doesn’t get this worked up when truly under pressure, when bullets start flying. That’s how I will know if the kid is worth his salt.

“Ms. Gray recalls seeing a sedan, but Ava’s sister said she saw a white van, and the guy didn’t use chloroform. He didn’t even cover her mouth. It’s like he knew no one would come help her. Whoever this guy is, he's cocky.”

I nod my head. I already put that together, but I can tell he’s onto something. The way his brow furrows and his mouth tightens into a straight line as he looks over Spencer's statement, which I had her sign this morning before I left, suggests he is connecting the dots.

“Ms. Gray’s attacker is confident as if he’s done this before. She doesn’t mention his steps faltering or anything. He grabbed her, attempted to subdue her, and went straight for his car. As if it’s a routine.”

“Keep going, James,” I encourage him.

“We should reach out to other precincts or maybe even the FBI and see if they have any open cases with a similar MO.”

Bingo. Exactly what I was thinking.

“I agree. Run with it.”

“What?” he asks, taken aback.

“It’s your idea. Follow it. In fact,” I reach into my top drawer and pull out one of Ash’s cards and hand it to a stunned Liam.I’m not proud that I do this, but it comes in handy and I don’t do it often. “Here. My friend works out of the FBI New York field office. Start there.”

Liam stares at me, then the card, then back to me with his mouth wide open ready to catch some flies.

“Uh. Yeah. I’ll get right on it.”

Newbie needs to learn that I’m sure as fuck not going to hold his hand. Besides, I hate calling the New York field office.

“Where is the lab on the DNA test?”

“My friend actually asked for the evidence to be released into FBI custody. He thinks the attacker may be a serial. They’re running it themselves.”

Liam frowns. “And I’m still pursuing my idea why?”

“We’re thorough.”

“Okay. I’ll make some calls.”

“You do that,” I glance towards the doors and lo and behold, Fuckup one and Fuckup two stroll through the door like they’re hot shit. “And while you do, I have a few things to follow up on. I probably won’t be back in until tomorrow.”

I stand up and think about patting him on the back to let him know he’s doing a good job, but the thought makes my shoulders tense. Instead I say, “Good work.”

That’ll have to do.

I shoot off a quick text to Rio and put on a charming smile while I approach the dimwitted duo ready to enact my plan.

“Hey guys.” I give a quick chin lift in greeting. Troy is a well-built man who clearly spends too much time in the gym ogling his muscles. His fake tan and overly white teeth make for one very punchable face. Dustin, aka Fuckup two, is practically Troy’s twin minus a few inches in height.

“Hey Kingston! How’s it going?” Troy says, but clearly doesn’t give a fuck about my answer.

“Can’t complain.” I hate small talk, but sometimes you have to blend in.

---