Page 15 of Make You Mine

“Agreed.” A moment of silence follows. He seems to want to say something else but remains quiet, and I take that as my cue to leave. There’s no point in arguing anymore. Once he makes up his mind, it’s set in stone, just the same as I won’t rest until Jason Ripley’s dead or behind bars by my hand?—

The only acceptable outcomes.

Rapping my knuckles twice on his desk, I push my chair back and stand. “I’m out.”

I make it a few steps. The handle of the door is just within my reach when Captain Perez clears his throat, and I stop. I don’t turn around but tilt my head to the side so he knows I’m listening.

“I chose you for a reason, Elijah.” A heavy sigh follows. “Keep her safe. Nothing else matters. No matter the cost.”

6

ELIJAH

PRESENT…

She’s his muse.

“That sick son of a bitch,” I grit out, grabbing the file I’d pushed away a minute ago. My fingers clench and unclench, renewed anger coursing through my veins as I lean over and begin flicking through the pages. I’m seeing everything through a different set of eyes, taking in the details not as the detective who hunted this animal down, but as a victim. “How didn’t anyone make the connection sooner?”

All women. All young. They were between the ages of nineteen and twenty-nine with the same physical attributes: chocolate brown hair, blue eyes, and were short in stature.

Jason saw Ava in every victim. Substitutes he used and killed to ebb his obsession with her. And as I read through each line, I’m cataloging the moments of pure fear she must’ve lived through, instead of analyzinghim.

The torture of not knowing what will come.

The survivor’s guilt all victims carry.

Then, there are the questions I’ve come to expect as part of the healing process while interviewing the parties involved with murder cases.

It’s a wash, rinse, and repeat cycle as I read through the notes Dallas detectives, a psychologist, and their district attorney added to the thick file. I’m numb to it for the most part unless it pertains to her answers. Something about this woman invokes this near-painful need to?—

Protect. Avenge. Bring peace back to her life.

The reaction wars against the reality of a man like me: numb to the ugliness of the job.

Drugs and assault or trafficking—murder. Not because I’ve lost my humanity, but because a clear head doesn’t make mistakes. Attachments cloud judgments. It can place innocent people in danger, and that goes against my oath—my badge.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhale roughly and then stretch my neck. The area feels tight, I’m tired, but there’s little time left before Ava Perry arrives. “She’s just a case. Nothing more.” Picking up my cell phone from beside an empty soda can, I press play on the audio file Captain Perez sent me after our meeting. I’ve listened to it more than five times now, always pausing at the fifteen-minute mark:

“Do you have any questions for us, Miss Perry? Anything we can do to help the transition into witness protection more?—”

“There’s nothing that will make this easier or less horrifying, Detective.”No one says anything, but a tiny sob slips through, and the sound causes my chest to ache. Her voice is low, a tiny whisper, but I find myself attuned to it—to the most minute hitch of her breath and the utter fear in her tone.“Nothing but his capture will heal me. Will bring some semblance of safety back.”

“We’ll do everything we can, Miss Perry.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

If they notice her lack of trust, those in the room don’t comment, and a few seconds later, they begin to discuss her transfer. She’s coming from Dallas to Los Angeles with a private escort set up by my precinct.

She’s been thrown into an unknown situation with variables out of her control. With no one she fully trusts.

Asking herself if she’ll ever be safe from him.

Wondering when she’ll go back home and what she’ll walk into.

The woman’s been moved two times since Jason’s arrest, the first due to the harassment. People who knew her spoke out in interviews, exposing who she is, and the amateur paparazzi began to press her for whatever details she knows and that the media isn’t sharing. Then, they inundated her bakery, made it impossible to run the business, and followed her every move through the lens of their cell phones.

Then it happened again, once he escaped police custody during a transport trip.

---