Page 19 of Haunted

I wanted to laugh at her nervous rambling, probably would have if my brain wasn’t stuck on the “crazed killer” part. She’d struck a chord with her off-handed remark and asmuch as I hated to admit it, she was right. I was pushing too hard, way too fast, all because my protective instincts flared to life whenever she was nearby. She needed time…we both did…to learn what made the other tick.

“I get it.” Catching a faint smell of coconut, I stepped backward before I did something stupid like kiss her. “Can we meet up later? Dinner, maybe?”

“I’d like that.”

“Give me your number and I’ll text you when I’m off.”

Waverly had given us a quick rundown of what to expect when we gathered at the office; having already heard from Duncan who’d headed straight to the scene from his home on the outskirts of town. The body of a young woman—age undetermined—was found naked in a ditch on the side of the highway by a trucker, with obvious signs of torture, including a missing ring finger.

Son of a bitch.

The rising sun had long since vanished behind a thick wall of low hanging storm clouds; a light splatter of rain clinging to the windshield of the federally-issued black SUV Noah was driving. Red-and-blue flashing lights from a multitude of emergency vehicles lit up the sky, signifying our arrival.

“You’ve been awfully quiet. You good?” Noah questioned, flipping on his blinker as he pulled off the road to park behind the coroner’s van.

“I found her.”

“What?” Lanie exploded from the back seat. “And you’re justnowtelling us?”

“Seriously, K?” Noah shook his head. “We drove forty minutes in absolute silence, thinking you needed the time to clear your head when we could’ve been talking about your mystery girl?”

“Asshole,” Koen grunted.

“What he said,” Lanie quipped.

“I found her asleep in a shitty blue car in the parking lot of my complex.”

“What the fuck?” Noah whipped his head in my direction.

“Yeah.” I scrubbed a hand down my face.

“We knew she lost campus housing, but what about her friends? Couldn’t she crash with one of them?”

“I didn’t ask, Lanie. The impression I got was she doesn’t have any, at least not anyone close enough she felt comfortable asking.”

“Damn. That’s harsh. What are you going to do?”

Keon’s question was the same one I’d been asking myself repeatedly since I’d left her standing beside her car. My stiff neck was proof I wouldn’t survive another night cramped up in my car next to hers, yet there was no way I’d be able to sleep knowing she was out there all alone.

“Earn her trust? Bribery? Fuck if I know. I’m open to any ideas you geniuses might have.”

“She can stay with me,” Lanie offered. “I have an extra bedroom.”

For as much as my inner caveman demanded I be the one who provided her shelter, I bit back the refusal sitting on the tip of my tongue. Henley had already turned down my spare room, choosing instead to return to her car. Maybe she’d be more amenable to staying with a woman.

Hope bloomed in my chest. This might actually work. From what I could tell, Henley needed more people in her corner, and Lanie was one of the best I knew. There was no doubt in my mind the two of them would become fast friends. Plus, it was a great way to start introducing her to my team.

“Thank you. Let me talk to her about it.”

“Excuse me.” Duncan’s gravelly voice boomed as he pounded once on the hood of the SUV with his fist. “Have any of you seen a group of federal agents around here? My team seems to have gotten lost.”

We climbed out of the vehicle, sporting identical navy blue jackets with the letters FBI embossed in yellow over the left breast and across the back.

“Sorry, boss man. Won’t happen again.”

Duncan rolled his eyes, knowing all too well Koen was full of shit, then spun on his heel without further discussion, heading toward the yellow crime scene tape strung up between two trees. As we followed, I scanned the small crowd of looky-loos gathered behind the barricade of police cars, making a mental note of anyone who looked out of place. It wasn’t unheard of for a perp to return to the scene of the crime; essentially taunting law enforcement.

“Watch your step and hold on to your breakfast people.” Duncan held up the tape, allowing us to pass under it. “Our killer is one sick motherfucker.”

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