Page 85 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“No—” Jack began, but Aaron beat him to it.

“I wouldkillfor a tea.” He smiled. “Literally commit murder for one.”

Jack glared at Kenny and Kenny pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll make a pot.” Fraser rushed off.

“Go on,” Jack said, folding his arms. “What have you got?”

“A potential suspect.”

Jack glanced down at Aaron,

Aaron shot his hands in the air. “Not me! Why do you always think it’s me?” He then slouched back in the chair, crossing oneankle over his knee, exuding an air of practiced nonchalance entirely at odds with the tension in the room. Relaxed, like he belonged, but Kenny knew better. Aaron was playing his part, pushing Jack’s buttons in a house where he had every reason to feel out of place.

This thing between Jack and Aaron grated on every nerve Kenny had. He knew exactly why they disliked each other, and he couldn’t blame either of them for it. Jack visibly bristled every time Aaron edged closer to Kenny’s orbit, his frustration simmering just below the surface. And Aaron? Aaron hated Jack not just for wrongly accusing him of Rahul’s murder last year, but for something deeper, something far harder to ignore. Because Jack had once meant something to Kenny.

The tension between them was a quiet war of territory, and Kenny found himself caught squarely in the middle.

“Who then?” Jack turned back to Kenny.

Kenny yanked out files and photographs from his bag and laid them out on Jack’s coffee table. He nudged aside a few coasters and magazines—Healthy LivingandMen’s Fitness—before spreading out the evidence.

“Peter Middleton.” Kenny handed over a report to Jack. “You remember him?”

Jack read the document. “I do now.”

“Escaped the Howells. Went through an unimaginable ordeal, but his life before then wasn’t any better. His father was abusive. Used to let their dog attack him. His mother was an addict. He was already a helpless target when he was lured from the park that day. Escaped after three days of torture, but his parents didn’t even come to get him. He went straight into the system.”

Aaron furrowed his brow. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Kenny looked at him for a moment. “Which part?”

“The dog! Bet it wasn’t the dog’s fault.”

“You like dogs?”

“Love ‘em. You know where you stand with a dog. People are the ones who lie, cheat and string you along.” Aaron held his gaze. “And, yeah, also about him going into the care system. It’s a shitty place.”

“Exactly.” Kenny turned back to Jack, ignoring the potency of Aaron’s statement. “And as such, it’s unlikely he received the help and support he needed after what he endured.”

“This is an enormous leap, Kenny. How the fuck did you get from there to here?”

Kenny picked up the photograph of Carly and handed it to Jack. “See the lip balm on her desk? Aaron noticed it. Apparently, it’s sold in the campus shop, and there’s a man—disfigured—who buys it in bulk. When Aaron described him—his scars, his withdrawn behaviour—it aligned with what I remembered about Peter Middleton. And if the theory holds that the killer is using a toxin transmitted through kisses, the lip balm could very well be the delivery mechanism. It’s precise, controlled, and deeply personal.”

Jack looked at him over the file, eyebrow arched, unconvinced. So Kenny had to give him more.

“Think about it, Jack. This man—Middleton—brutally assaulted as a teenager. Lips and genitalia severed, effectively stripping him of his autonomy, his ability to engage in intimacy, and his sense of self—”

“Jesus,” Aaron muttered from the sofa. “Poor fucker.”

Kenny threw a glance his way, then turned back to Jack. “Those injuries aren’t just physical. They’re deeply psychological wounds. For someone like him, revenge isn’t just about inflicting harm. It’s about reclaiming power. He’s weaponizing the very things that were taken from him.” Kenny paced, gesturing manically in the hope Jack wouldseethis. See the patterns and lines leading to this man. “The lips are symbolic. They represent intimacy, trust, and communication. Things he’s been denied. By using the kiss as his method of attack, he’s notjust taking lives; he’s forcing his victims into a moment of vulnerability, of connection, that he can then exploit and destroy. It’s a way to rewrite his own narrative. To make others experience the helplessness and violation he felt.”

He gestured toward the photo again. “The lip balm fits perfectly into that psychological profile. It’s cheap, accessible, and likely something he uses as a workaround for his injuries. But by introducing a toxin, it becomes his weapon. A way to control the act of intimacy on his terms.”

“Okay…” Jack was humouring him for now. “Why Connie Bishop? The other victims? What’s his motive for them?”

“Think about it. Young. Girls. Blonde…” Kenny stared right at Jack, silently conveying what he wanted to say, what he hoped he would pick up and, regardless of how he felt and what he thought about Aaron, he would at least protect his own professional integrity by not outright saying it.

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