Page 46 of Lovely Violent Things

As a consequence, I’ve been distracted, off my game. After Halen convinced Alister to issue a team of agents in her quest to process the gothic mansion, the full search of Landry’s library commenced, which only uncovered his fingerprints and DNA for the task force, and nothing more than the same tired connections that confirm Landry was an accomplice and pawn for the offender.

I know what Halen is searching for. At the ravine, she danced around the theory that the missing locals never really went missing. Finding evidence to support this theory will prove difficult without the victims themselves.

The expedition was monitored by more agents than necessary, I think, to keep a safe barrier between us, not trusting herself to be alone with me. A risk she took that accrued Alister’s wrath at the wasted man hours. As a result, Halen’s request to question the families of the victims was denied.

At some point, every pursuit, whether external or internal, is met with what feels like a dead end. A point where the quest stalls, no more answers are provided, and we’re forced to either accept defeat, or be consumed by our obsession.

But this is also the point at which great breakthroughs occur.

While all eyes are narrowly focused on the search for the thirty-two victims, no one is looking at the offender’s pursuit itself.

This person has an agenda, one that’s been stalled for days, and I can sense the anxious energy surrounding the town as we coast through the timeworn streets.

The Overman is ready to force their own breakthrough.

Every day that stretches on, this person is an increasing threat to Halen and her secret—the secret I’ve sacrificed my fucking freedom to keep buried.

Since I can’t allow the perpetrator to be caught and arrested with this knowledge, the only option is to make sure they’re not. To do what Halen is not yet prepared to do.

It’s time for the Overman to ascend and meet their maker.

For her, I can be the villain.

From the passenger seat, Halen expels an audible breath as she looks at her phone, lighting the screen to illuminate the interior of the SUV.

Daring to break the silence between us, I say, “Bad news?”

She hesitates a few seconds before she relents. “Agent Alister denied my request for the bite cast comparison for the deer remains in the ravine.”

Out of character, Agent Hernandez speaks up. “You don’t need his permission. You’re with the locals. You can issue your own lab requests to them.”

Shocked at his sudden suggestion, Halen stares at the agent. “Thank you, Agent Hernandez, but that’s not the whole of the problem. The lab is backed up, only processing urgent, time-sensitive evidence. Agent Alister is the authority on that, unfortunately.”

I sit forward to be closer to her. “It might not be a setback. You should push to get an outside lab to run the tests anyway.”

She shifts in her seat to look at me, her delicate features creased at the implication. I felt her wariness at the ravine; I know she’s questioning more than just the victims.

“There hasn’t been any evidence to suggest the perp is in law enforcement,” she says outright.

“But itissomeone in this town,” Hernandez offers, continuing to be helpful.

I hike an eyebrow, amused. “He’s right, and it’s an ideal place to hide in a small town.”

“It’s also one of the most obvious for that reason,” she rebounds. “This is a close-knit community. You heard what Devyn said about her brother. If anyone suspected one of their own, they’d be the first to act.” She casts a weary look out the window of the moving vehicle. “They wouldn’t let the pain go on.”

I hear the tender truth beneath her words, her own experience with that pain bleeding through to taint her perspective. She’s more attuned than anyone on the case, and she has her suspects in mind, but she won’t give them up. Especially to me. I’m still too much of an unknown variable.

“With small communities,” Hernandez says, “the perp doesn’t necessarily need to be in law enforcement to have access to the department. A spouse, sibling, another relative or friend… Small towns trust each other.”

As I watch Halen’s reflection in the passenger-side window, I see the deep crease form between her brows. Something else is festering in her thoughts. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “I just… I gave the lab something to run. I should probably get it back.” Her gaze locks with mine in the reflection.

The kernel of guilt I register in her eyes gives her away. Halen gave them the evidence from the ritual. She doesn’t need to say it; the way she tugs at her bottom lip confirms this.

I sit back and lace my hands behind my head, getting comfortable. “Well, if it is someone who has access to the lab, then there’s an abundance of my DNA at their disposal.”

That carving knife should be turning up soon.

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