Page 9 of Painter's Obsession

Before I can leave, two officers approach. Jamie shifts her attention to them as one speaks. “We’ve got nothing on the disappearance of Ms. Taylor. Another dead end. He’s not our guy.”

“Jamie, I’ll keep in touch,” I say, cutting my exit short. I’ve heard enough to make the monster inside me hum with excitement.

The courthouse is miles behind me when I pull into Tampa’s Trailer Park, a place barely clinging to the edge of civilization. The gravel crackles under my tires as I slow down, the night not quite enough to hide how out of place I am here.

This isn’t about home or comfort. It’s abouthim. Gabriela’s Thorn. And his Rose. One sibling will deliver the other—it’s only a matter of time.

I roll by slow, headlights off, my gaze scanning the rows of crumbling trailers until I find them. The Thorn stands under a flickering porch light, his posture rigid as an older woman cups his face. Her motions are familiar, too intimate. Naughty, naughty. She tips her head, whispering something before they disappear behind her trailer.

Pulling out my phone, I snap a photo. I don’t know who she is yet, but I will. Everyone has a weakness, and I’ll enjoy finding his.

Movement catches my eye. Gabriela. She steps out onto her rickety front deck, her gaze sweeping the yard, probably looking for her brother. Her face twists into a frown, and I can’t resist.

I pull out my phone again, this time scrolling to her number. I dial, watching her reaction. The phone in her back pocket buzzes, and her expression changes instantly—her face lighting up like an excited child on Christmas morning.

“Hi,” she answers breathlessly.

“Hi, stranger,” I say, my voice smooth, calm.

She giggles, twirling a strand of her hair. “Calling? I thought people just text now.”

“I’m old-fashioned,” I lie. “I prefer calls.”

“I like that you called,” she says softly, leaning against the warped wooden railing. Her back faces me now, her silhouette framed by the sickly glow of a porch light.

“How was your day?” I ask.

“Boring,” she replies, her voice light. “Spent most of it with my brother. He just got out of prison and is already looking for trouble.”

“Oh?” I feign curiosity, though I already know every detail. “How so?”

Gabriela sighs, chewing on her thumbnail. “Fucking with a married woman should do it, right?” She glances over toward the trailer again, her glare sharp.

I chuckle, low and measured. “I don’t know if that’ll send him back, but it’ll definitely bring him trouble.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, her voice quiet.

I glance at the dashboard clock and do something I don’t usually do— improvise. “Hey, what are you doing right now?

“Nothing, just at home.”

“Want to grab some tacos? I’m still in the Bay and I’m starving. I’m around Cortez Drive.”

She brightens instantly, her smile so wide I can see it even from here. “You’re on Cortez? I actually live…right down the street.” She hesitates, embarrassment flickering across her face.

“Oh really? Where?” I push, forcing her to admit it.

“Tampa’s Trailer Park,” she rushes out, as if saying it faster will make it less humiliating.

“Gotcha. I know the area. I’ll be there in five.”

“Okay! See you soon,” she says, bouncing on her heels before ending the call. She practically skips inside the trailer, her excitement almost pathetic.

This is all too easy.

Chapter Six

Byron

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