Page 59 of Royal
“Boyfriend?” he asked.
I didn’t hide that I was gay, but I hadn’t talked about it around him. Then again, he was trained in studying behavior. Yeah…he’d definitely caught me checking him out. That was the only explanation.
“Not exactly.” I walked over to the board, raking a gaze along the colored pins.
Agent Stone didn’t press me further and went back to reading over the documents.
Around lunchtime, we ordered Thai takeout and sat around the table, discussing the case as we ate. Talking about a deranged serial killer while eating chicken pad thai wasn’t exactly ideal, but too much was on the line to take a break.
“Detective Riley!” Officer Rogers ran into the room, holding something in his hand. He nodded his head to the FBI agents before rushing over to me. “This was just left at the front of the station.”
A white envelope with red letters scrawled across the front in messy handwriting read:For Detective Grayson Riley.
My blood ran cold.
After wiping my hands on a napkin, I took the envelope from him and looked at Agent Stone. He walked over to me, his gaze intense.
“Put these on,” he said, handing me a pair of gloves. “We don’t know what’s inside it.”
“Do you think it’s from him?” I asked.
Agent Stone nodded. “If he wanted to reach out to someone, you’d be the target.” His dark blue eyes moved to Officer Rogers. “Did you see who dropped it off?”
The rookie cop shook his head. “No, sir. It was left propped against the door. No one saw who put it there. With the crowd that’s come and gone all day, it could’ve been anyone.”
I put on the gloves before carefully opening it. A letter was inside. Nothing else. Good thing I was wearing gloves, because my palms had started to sweat. The room was quiet as all agents and cops watched me. It took a lot to shake me up, but getting a handwritten letter from a twisted serial killer certainly did the trick.
I pulled out the letter, unfolded it, and placed it on the table. It was written in red pen, almost illegible. Like it’d been written in an angry rush.
Detective Riley,
I didn’t intend to make a statement. I prefer my work to speak for itself. But YOU’VE given me no choice. I’ve been a good boy lately, sitting and waiting. Not hurting anyone. My heart still hurts from the last one. Like the knife I used on my lovers has found its way inside me too.
You think I HATE them because they’re beautiful? I loved them. Loved them all. It KILLED me to hurt them. Can’t you see that? But, like you, THEY gave me no choice. I offered them my heart, and they threw it back in my face.
I made them regret that.
Just like I’ll make you regret saying those things about me. Such a vile tongue you have, detective. Maybe I’ll rip it from your head one day very soon.
- Ameinias
After I read it, I slid it over to Agent Stone. I couldn’t read his expression as he looked it over. Toward the end, his brow slightly furrowed.
“Part of our profile was wrong,” he said, lifting his gaze to me before moving it to his team. “He doesn’t hate people for their beauty. He loves them. The flowers he sends before the abduction isn’t a warning meant to scare them, but rather, a sign of his affection.”
“What does this mean?” I asked. “What does it matter how he feels about them? They end up dead regardless.”
“The motives behind the killings matter,” he responded. “When looking over the times the victims were reported missing, compared to their times of death, I noticed inconsistencies. Everything from sending them flowers to their abductions followed a strict schedule. So, it struck me as odd that some victims were held longer than others.”
Luke’s brows shot up. “You think he kills them once they reject him?”
“Beth Monroe was held only a few hours before turning up dead,” Agent Stone said, pointing at her photo on the board. “Jeffrey Holland was reported missing around seven in the evening and was found early the next morning. It didn’t make sense why he held others longer. But now it does. If he believes he loves them, the amount of time they stay alive depends onthem. That’s what he meant in his letter about them not giving him a choice. They rejected his advances, and he cut them like they cut him.”
Sick sonofabitch.
“He signed the letterAmeinias,” I pointed out. “Wasn’t that the name of the man in the Narcissus story who was rejected and stabbed himself?”
Agent Stone nodded. “He wants us to know that’s the name he chooses. That part of the profile we got correct, at least.”
