Jude presses a kiss to the top of her head then leaves her to it, sinking down onto the couch and turning the TV on low. Oz joins him.
I stay at the island.
“You know you don’t have to stare at me the whole time,” Freya says without looking up from the file. “What do you think I’m going to do? Secretly remove a name?” She nods at River. “Somehow, I think Mr. Perfectionist over there would notice.”
“Maybe he just likes looking at you,” Jude calls from the couch, a wicked grin tilting his lips. He rests an arm on the back of the couch and gives Freya a slow perusal. “Can’t say I blame him.”
She rolls her eyes, but the barest hint of a smile teases her lips.
“Stop distracting her,” I say, getting up from the stool and joining the others in front of the TV. Normally, I’d be absorbed in the hockey game playing but I spend most of my energy trying not to look at Freya. Ten minutes later the game is entirely forgotten when Freya speaks up.
“River,” she says, “I think I’ve found something.”
We’re up from the couch in an instant. Ten years we’ve been chasing Maxwell, and we might finally have a solid lead. I curl my hand into a fist and tell myself not to get my hopes up, but I rush to the island all the same.
River is more measured as he moves round the island and Freya turns the file to face him.
“He looks a little different than I remember, and my father always called him Uncle Peter not Colin, but I’m pretty sure I recognize this man.”
River studies the photo then spins it around to face the rest of us. “Colin Bennet,” I say. He’s a ferret of man with sharp wrinkles, grey hair, and a thick pair of glasses. “Did you sayUnclePeter?”
Freya nods, though the queasy look on her face has me thinking he wasn’t the friendly family figure the name suggests.
“I’m not sure my father is capable of having friends, but Peter would come round now and then, and they’d grab a drink and watch the game. I never liked him. He was kind, but the way he looked at me as I got older...”
Every single one of us freezes, our eyes locked on Freya, but she just shakes her head like it’s nothing.
“Anyway,” she says, “he always brought his dog with him, a little Jack Russell Terrier, named Bella. I think he had a lot of animals. If it’s him that is.”
“It’s him,” River confirms. “Colin Bennet is a vet. We flagged him not long before Maxwell stopped killing. Eva managed to find a trace of the drug he used to knock his victims out and we searched local pharmacies, hospitals, and vets. Anywhere that might have given him access to the drug. One pharmacy and two vets were missing some of their stock, Bennet’s being one of them.”
“I remember him,” Jude says. “He claimed one of the local homeless people broke in, but he didn’t want to press charges because he volunteered at the local shelter. He seemed like a good guy. Friendly.”
“This was back before we knew the Cross-Cut Killer was Maxwell, so we didn’t have any way of connecting the two of them,” Oz adds.
“But if he was more than just a contact,” I say, looking at the photo of Colin on the island, “then there’s a chance Maxwell might have gone back to him for supplies now he’s started killing again.”
Oz’s fingers fly over his phone. “Jackpot Potato,” he murmurs.
“Jesus Christ,” I grumble.
“What?” Oz asks. “It’s like Hot Potato but Jackpot Potato.”
We all stare at him. “That’s quite possibly your worst one yet.”
Oz grins at me before turning serious. “Colin Bennet opened up a new clinic in Quantico six months ago.”
Freya’s delicate neck bobs as she swallows. “Quantico’s not a huge place. If he’s been living here for half a year, he could have seen me.” She looks at River, her eyes widening with a hint of panic. “He could have told my father where I am. That could be why he started killing again. Here of all places.”
Images of all the bodies Maxwell’s left in his wake flash through my head. The dread hits me out of nowhere, exploding out of me before I can contain it.
“Great,” I snap, pushing away from the island. “Nice work Killer, you led a murderer to our town.” I flash her a false smile. “Now we get to go talk to his bestie.”
“I told you not to call me that,Elijah,” Freya snaps back, but I’m already walking away.
I don’t look back until I reach my room at the end of the corridor. I can still see her down the hall in the kitchen. Freya’s bent forward over the file, her red hair water-falling around her face as she works together with my three teammates. A hint of guilt curls around me. If my mother were here, she’d be scolding me for treating Freya the way I am. But my mother’s not here.
And she never will be again.
