Page 62 of Lust

Doing as he says, I collect the box, photos and my tea and follow them to the office. Oz begins setting up his equipment with Roman’s help. When Blake joins us, carrying a coffee for Oz, Roman hands the photo of the man I saw at Pa’s house.

“Run this through the facial recognition software first, then while we wait for that, you can get started on tracking JC’s burner.”

I watch completely stunned and feeling like I stepped into some crime movie as Oz begins running the image through facial recognition. Faces flash across the screen at a rapid pace, and the longer I watch, I begin to catch the markers the software uses to determine a likeness.

Before running a trace on the phone, Oz hands out several sheets to us all. “The top page lists every place, that we know about, where Sydney and Kincaid have lived the last eighteen years. The second page is the same list and beside each place are the names of known and possible murders of women during the time they lived there. The last page is a scaled down map,showing Sydney and Kincaid’s location along with a pin for each murder.”

I scan over the two first pages, but when I reach the third, the true scale is visible.

“Oh my god, are you sure about all these deaths?” I ask the room.

My question is met with a resounding and sullen yes. Oz proceeds to explain his pin colour code; green for known cases, yellow are unconfirmed but highly probable and the red pins represent possible matches.

Some of these names I recognise from news reports, but there was never any suggestion they were connected. With the different MO and locations, plus the large gap between deaths, the police were never going to connect the dots.

There’s a ping from the screen with the facial recognition, and we all stop, then move to look at the screen. There’s an image of a guy wearing a baseball cap, the logo matches that of the one on the cap in the older photo.

Robert Richards, a year younger than Pa, and he lives fifteen minutes from here.

“And it seems our guy works for the passport office. Explains how Kincaid got his hands on good quality counterfeit passports,” Oz says, clicking through details on the screen.

Blake and Roman share a look, and I know what they’re going to say, so I make a pre-emptive strike.

“I’m coming with you,” I state, looking at each of them and waiting for one of them, or both, to refuse. “What, no arguments?”

“Short of tying you up, we can’t stop you,” Roman says, which is a surprise as I thought he’d be the most likely to contest me coming. With two fingers, in a come-hither motion, Roman gestures for me to follow him.

I’m ashamed to admit the hand gesture reminded me of his finger in my…and my cheeks redden. I pass him, and he steps in alongside me, our shoulders rubbing together.

“You look a little red there, Sydney. You okay?” he asks.

I look at him from the corner of my eye to see him smirking. “You’re not funny, and this isn’t the time.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “It’s not me with the filthy mind.” He strides past me, quickly glancing back at me over his shoulder with a wink.

“Where are we going?” I ask as we enter a side of the gigantic manor house I’ve not been to yet.

“You’ll see. But keep an open mind, Sydney,” he says, his tone serious.

We stop at a door with a biometric keypad, and Roman places his hand on the scanner. A couple of seconds pass before it flashes green, and an automated voice confirms his name. The door whooshes open, revealing a staircase.

Lights switch on as we enter, and I nervously follow Roman down. There’s a momentary worry that I am in fact being taken to a room to be tied up and left here while they go and see Robert, but it vanishes the second we reach the bottom.

Guns, knives and weapons I have no clue what they are line the walls. There are shelves housing ammo and cabinets with vests and belts. This place is like an armoury

No, not like. It is.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

ROMAN

Imove into her line of vision, and with a finger under her chin, I close her mouth. Adjusting my hand, I grip her chin and kiss her.

Her eyes are closed when I pull back, and she slowly opens them. “What in the world, Roman?”

I know I’ve been a bastard to her about divulging what Blake and I do, but there is a reason. “Look, I know you’re confused, and I know you have questions?—”

“Many questions,” she says, interrupting me, and her brows furrow as her eyes look past me.

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