Page 62 of Before the Night Falls
Outside, security lights illuminated Tyson’s property, the silhouettes of guards visible at strategic points around the perimeter.
The clock read 9:14 p.m.—not too late to make calls.
She settled at the small desk in the corner, opening her laptop and pulling out her notebook. Inside were the details she’d gathered on the three unsolved murders that had caught her attention—women found in shallow graves around a week after disappearing. One in Maine, one in Virginia, one in Ohio.
She needed to follow up with her contacts.
She dialed the first number on her list.
“Montgomery, you do realize what time it is, right?” The voice that answered was gruff but not unfriendly.
“Hello to you too, Marcus.” Despite everything, Olivia found herself smiling.
Marcus Chen had been her most reliable source during her years as a crime reporter. Now a senior investigative journalist with the Associated Press, he had connections throughout law enforcement.
“I was wondering when you’d call back. Your messages were cryptic.”
“I needed to be careful.” She switched to speaker and pulled up her notes. “Did you look into those cases I asked about?”
“I did.” The sound of typing came through the line. “And you’re right—there are similarities that should have raised flags. But the cases were spread across three states with different jurisdictions.”
Olivia’s heart quickened. “Tell me.”
“All three victims were kept somewhere underground before being killed. All three had traces of soil under their fingernails that didn’t match where their bodies were found. All three had small puncture marks on their necks and thighs—some kind of injection.”
“Like sedatives.” Olivia subconsciously touched her thigh, the place where she’d been injected by The Admirer.
“Exactly.” More typing. “There’s something else—something that wasn’t released to the public.”
She tensed. “What?”
“Rose petals. In their lungs.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Olivia’s blood ran cold.“This guy made his victims breathe in rose petals?”
“According to the coroner in the Ohio case, the killer forced the petals down their throats just before death,” Marcus said. “It was part of his . . . ritual.”
Her vision blurred momentarily. She gripped the edge of the desk, forcing herself to breathe. “That wasn’t part of The Admirer’s MO. At least, not with me. Not with the cases we knew about in New York.”
“This could be a copycat who’s adding his own signature,” Marcus suggested. “Or . . .”
“Or The Admirer was just getting started in New York,” she finished. “And what happened to these women is what would have happened to me if I hadn’t escaped.”
The silence on the line stretched uncomfortably.
“I reached out to my contact at the FBI,” Marcus finally said. “She’s looking for connections between your case and these three. So far, nothing concrete—but she’s interested.”
“Thank you,” Olivia insisted. “I’d appreciate any updates.”
“Of course. But she might have questions for you. The Bureau doesn’t play nice, even with victims.”
“I’m not a victim,” Olivia said automatically, the response ingrained from countless therapy sessions.
“No, you’re not.” Marcus paused. “How are things down there in North Carolina? Your cryptic messages mentioned roses.”
Olivia hesitated, suddenly aware of how exposed a phone call could be. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain everything when I can.”
