There was a long pause—Agent Sterling donning her inner armor. “The last time you pulled me off a case, Scarlett had just been murdered.” Sterling could be just as merciless as her father. “If you hadn’t interfered then, we might not be in this position now.”
“Have you even told the Hobbes girl about the third body?” Director Sterling shot back. His voice was soft, but his words hit me like a hammer to the chest.
He’d asked if she’d told me. Not Dean, not Lia, not Michael, not Sloane. Me. My throat tightened as I pictured the first two victims in my mind.
I pushed the door to the basement open and stepped out. “What about the third body?”
Michael came to stand beside me, his gaze locked on Agent Sterling’s face. I had no idea what he saw there, but whatever it was had him stepping in front of me, like he could protect me from the answer to the question I’d just asked.
“The third victim,” I reiterated, my voice dry and hoarse, focusing on Agent Sterling and ignoring her father. “You and Briggs never said anything about the third victim.”
Michael glanced wordlessly at Dean, who moved to my other side, his body close enough to mine that I should have been able to feel the heat off of it.
I couldn’t feel anything.
“Cassie…” Agent Sterling took a step forward. I took a step back.
“The first two victims were persons of interest in our prior cases,” I said. “Following the same pattern…”
I trailed off, because even without Michael’s ability, I could see in Agent Sterling’s eyes that the third victim wasn’t just a person of interest in one of our cases.
I’d thought that our killer’s choice of victims was either meant as punishment for coming to Gaither or a distraction to lure us away.
Not us, I realized. It was never about us.
I went for my cell phone. It was dead. How long had it been since I charged it? How many phone calls had I missed?
“Cassie,” Agent Sterling said again. “The third victim—you know her.”
YOU
Too little, too late. If they’d discovered anyone’s identity but Nine’s, you could order the leak eliminated at the source—and, oh, how you’d like to see the old bastard bleed.
To make him bleed.
But he commands the others’ respect—their reverence—and you’re the one who’s bleeding. You’re the one they chain, the one they purify with flame and blade and fingers wrapped around your throat.
They want you to pass judgment. They want you to say yes.
Lorelai would die to protect Cassie. Lorelai would never give them what they want. But you aren’t Lorelai.
When you say the words, they release you from the chains. Your body slumps to the floor. They leave you with nothing but a torch to light the tomb.
“Mommy?” The little voice echoes through this cavernous space as Laurel emerges from the shadows. You can see Lorelai in the child, see Cassie.
Lorelai tries to fight her way to the surface as Laurel comes closer, but you’re stronger than she is.
“Mommy?”
Your gaze locks onto hers. Laurel is silent and still, and then, looking more like a ghost than a child, her eyes harden.
“You’re not my mommy.”
You hum under your breath. “Mommy had to go away,” you tell her, stepping forward to caress her hair, a smile playing at the edges of your lips. “And Laurel? Mommy isn’t coming back.”
When my phone was charged, I saw that I had a half-dozen missed calls—all of them from my grandmother. Nonna had raised seven children. She had nearly two dozen grandchildren.
One less now. I’d spent five years living with my father’s family. Kate was the cousin closest to my own age, just three years my senior. And now, she was dead—strung up like a scarecrow and burned alive. Because of me.
You did this, I thought. I forced myself to repeat the words a second time, aiming them not at myself and not at the UNSUB.
Every instinct I had said that the person who’d marked my cousin for death was the one person I’d loved more than anything—forever and ever, no matter what.
You wanted me out of Gaither, didn’t you, Mom? You wanted me safe. You wouldn’t bat an eye at trading Kate’s life for mine. You’ve done it before.
My mother had left her little sister—the sister she’d protected for years—with an abusive father as soon as she’d found out she was pregnant with me. She’d traded Lacey’s future, her safety, for mine.
You knew that if the ties to our previous cases didn’t work, if those didn’t get me out of Gaither—this would.
“What are you going to do?” Sloane asked me quietly. We were back at the hotel.
“Malcolm Lowell is in the wind. We solved the Kyle murders.” I paused, looking out the window at historic Main Street. “My mother knew exactly what I would do.” I swallowed hard. “I’m going to go home.”
I had one stop to make before leaving Gaither. I’d spent years not knowing if my mother was dead or alive. I’d lived that limbo, unable to mourn, unable to move on.
Ree Simon deserved to know what had happened to her daughter.
When we got to the diner, the others split off, giving me the space to do what needed to be done. As Michael, Dean, Lia, and Sloane slid into a booth, Agent Sterling came up beside me. “Are you sure you want to do this alone?”
I thought of my cousin Kate. We’d never been close. I’d never let her get close. Because I’d been raised to keep people at a distance. Because I was my mother’s daughter.
“I’m sure,” I said.
Sterling and Judd took seats of their own. Agent Starmans joined them several minutes later. It occurred to me, on some level, to wonder where Celine had gone, but when Ree saw me standing in front of the counter, I did what I could to keep myself in the moment.
To feel for her what I couldn’t feel for myself.
After filling cups with coffee for both Sterling and Judd, Ree turned to me. She wiped her hands on her apron and gave me an assessing once-over. “What can I do for you, Cassie?”
“I have something to tell you,” I said, my voice surprisingly solid, surprisingly even. “It’s about your daughter.”
“Sarah?” Ree arched her brows, her chin thrusting slightly outward. “What about her?”