Page 43 of Craving Sin (Touch of Evil 13)

The window expanded to fill the screen.

Nathaniel rested his forearms on the window frame of the door for a better visual, but Bit still had to verbally point out the significance of the dollar figures.

“Once you told me about the search warrants for Nanuk Kalluk, I started pulling his financials.”

“Jesus Christ, Nowacki,” Nathaniel exclaimed in irritation. He reached inside the SUV and snatched back the other radio that Bit had rested in his lap. “I said I was putting in for them. Not that we were granted yet. Do you realize?—”

“My bad.” No one could prove that Bit had known exactly what Nathaniel had said after arriving back on scene. What mattered was that his hunch had paid off. He pointed to the highlighted transactions. “Nanuq's mother—the former governor’s sister—has a checking account at First Alaskan Regional. If you look here, there is a pattern of large deposits over the past twelve years. Twice a year, like clockwork—May and November. Would you like to know what those dates have in common?”

“The same months as the fundraisers for the wildlife conservation,” Nathaniel muttered in disgust. “Lusa was right. Nanuq has been skimming the donations. We now have motive.”

“You’re welcome.” Bit flashed a smile, figuring his contribution was enough for the federal prosecutor to ignore his jumping the gun on the warrant. “Do you want to reach out to Boss? Or should I?”

“You do it,” Nathaniel instructed as he hooked the radio to his belt. He pulled out his cell phone and held it up. “I’ll be too busy making sure those warrants come through.”

Bit expected Nathaniel to walk away, but he tapped the door’s window frame instead.It took a moment for the federal prosecutor to form the right words, but Bit was confident he was two for two.

“The fact that you’ve gotten all this information from a laptop in a rental SUV in the middle of nowhere speaks volumes about your abilities, Mr. Nowacki,” Nathaniel said with respect. “I sure as hell hope she is paying you what you’re worth.”

21

Theo Neville

June 2025

Wednesday — 2:26 pm

Theo scrolled through the countless pictures on Sylvie’s phone, doing his best to keep his nausea in check. The haunting images of Sally Pearson’s severed head resting atop a jagged stalagmite were utterly sickening—the act was inhumane. The sheer brutality defied comprehension and would undoubtedly leave another mutilated scar on Brook’s soul.

“We need to get back down the mountain,” Theo said without addressing the photos. Sylvie had taken them during the hour he had spent rigging a way for her to climb out of the ice cave. “You need a chance to warm up, and we need to touch base with Bit.”

Theo had managed to pry loose some of the outhouse’s longer boards that hadn’t collapsed from rot. Fortunately, there were two planks, though weathered, that had been sturdy enough to support Sylvie’s weight. It had taken some manipulation and careful balancing, but she had finally been able to climb out of the cold environment.

Her teeth were still chattering as her body struggled to fend off the deep chill from spending nearly two hours underground. The ride back down the mountain, with the cool wind and uneven terrain, wasn’t going to be pleasant for her.

Theo resisted the urge to adjust his eye patch. There were times when he experienced phantom pain, although in his case, it was usually just a sensation that made him want to rub the area free of irritation.

“I hate to leave the scene unsecured,” Sylvie said reluctantly, managing to get through an entire sentence without her teeth chattering. Theo had removed his jacket and tied the sleeves around her in an effort to help contain her body heat. “I guess it’s pointless to try to cover up our visit.”

“Do we really think Jacob would trust anyone with Sally Pearson’s head?” Theo asked with skepticism. “Not for a moment do I buy that plan.”

“Maybe,” Sylvie murmured as she used her shoulder to push up her glasses. It was obvious from her tone that she had her doubts. “I keep trying to process the logistics. How does someone transport a human head from Illinois to Alaska without detection?”

“Cooler with ice, most likely.” Theo finally finished studying all the images on Sylvie’s phone. He pressed the small button on the right-hand side before handing it back to her. “Constantly refreshed, of course. He would have needed to avoid commercial flights, though TSA has missed worse.”

The area surrounding the cabin remained unnaturally quiet.

Occasionally, Theo could make out the distant call of a few birds, their notes sharp against the stillness. Very distant. Sylvie had been right about this place—the land contained a palpable sense of evil.

“According to Brook’s profile, Jacob meticulously plans each move. Nothing is spontaneous. He would have worked out transportation well in advance. He was young, Theo. Really young.” Sylvie suppressed a shiver as her body fought for warmth. “He killed Sally seven years before we can pin him to Alaska.”

“Youth is irrelevant when interacting with someone of Jacob’s intelligence. His IQ is exceptionally high,” Theo pointed out as he shifted his stance to study the deteriorating cabin. “For all we know, he was here in 2007, living off the land. There were several summers unaccounted for in his timeline.”

“I honestly don't think this is about his 'work,' as he calls it.” Sylvie brushed a strand of blonde hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She had lost the hair tie that usually kept the strands contained at the base of her neck. “This is about Brook.”

“How do you mean?”

“I think Jacob took Sally’s head as a keepsake. Not of the murder itself, but because of Brook's reaction to discovering her best friend bleeding out in a cornfield while her brother held the knife. He wants her to relive that moment.”

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