Page 84 of Can You Take It?

I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Fine, get me the list.”

As she starts compiling the information, I pull out my phone and dial Izel’s number. It rings, and rings, and rings. No answer. Damn it, Izel. Why now? I need leads, and she’s the key to finding Will. But bringing her in for questioning isn’t an option. If Wilson gets wind of my speculation, he’ll rush to close the case and pin it on Izel. The man’s more interested in a quick resolution than the truth.

“Alright, let’s start from the beginning,” I declare. “Angie Swayer was the first victim. We need to build our case from there.”

Noah raises an eyebrow. “Why start with Angie? There have been other victims since then.”

“Because Angie Swayer holds the key. Ghostface Striker’s M.O. started with her.”

“So, what’s the plan, boss? Dig into Angie’s life and see what comes up?” Colton asks.

“Exactly. I want everything on Angie Swayer. Her friends, her family, her enemies, her goddamn pets. We need to know everydetail, every connection. Ghostface Striker left a breadcrumb trail, and it starts with her.”

“I’ll pull up her online presence, social media, emails, the whole deal. We might find something that slipped through the cracks,” Emily interjects.

“While Emily is at it, I want the files for the Hollowbrook killer, Slasher and Billy Brooke’s case,” I declare.

Emily shoots me a skeptical look. “You think our Ghostface Striker is a copycat?”

“No, I think it’s the same person.”

“How is that possible? Billy Brooke was incarcerated, and later found dead in his cell after he confessed to the murders.”

I lean back in my chair with my fingers steepled. “I think he was forced to do so.”

“Rick, this is a long shot. Also, why do you even suspect it's the same person?”

Noah signals Emily to follow him. “Come on, I’ll explain everything,” he says, leading her out of the office.

I focus on the crime scene photos from Angie Swayers’ case. Colton returns, carrying the files I requested, and places them on my desk.

“Here you go,” he says, sitting down across from me. “Let’s see if your theory holds any water.”

I start lining up the files, sorting through them with a focus that only comes from desperation.

“Any follow-up leads from those letters we released to the media?” I ask, not looking up.

Colton shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing useful. Just a bunch of nutjobs and attention seekers.”

Fuck. I was hoping for a hit, something to point us in the right direction. But if I go with my gut which is telling me that Izel’s father is somehow tied to all this—then there’s a good chance she’s being forced into protecting him. That would explain why—if—she’s sending those letters anonymously, trying to give us a nudge without blowing up her own life.

I pull open the files I’ve got on her on my desktop and slide the letter from the drawer. No records of any physical documents where I can compare the handwriting on the letter to something official.

Colton probably notices what I’m doing and narrows his eyes. “What are you up to, Rick?”

“You said during your visit to Hollowbrook that Izel’s school records checked out, right?” I ask instead of answering.

“Yeah, they did. Why?”

“Pull them up,” I say, already moving things around on my desk to make room. “I want to take a look.”

Colton pulls out his phone and opens his email, scrolling through until he finds what I’m asking for. He hands it over to me, and I start going through the documents.

There’s a handwritten enrollment form.

Colton’s still watching me, and his confusion starts turning into concern. “What the hell are you doing?”

I don’t answer. I’m too busy comparing the slant of the letters, the loops, and the pressure on the paper. The handwriting is not a match.

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