The pounding in my chest pulses through my ears. “Where up north?”
“About an hour north of Seattle,” he tells us, trying to use discretion with the more specific details of the case. “According to forensics, someone raped and tortured them.”
Stevie gasps. “Fuck.”
“We don’t know a lot right now and the last thing we want to do is create a panic, so the press can’t find out yet,” he instructs. “My instincts are usually right on these things, but I think this is only the beginning.”
I grip my fingers with my entire hand waiting for his response.
“What makes you say that?” I ask, remembering there were different men coming in and out of the basement.
“You remember that college sex ring from twenty or so years ago?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe out. “Of course, I do.”
I was barely nine at the time, but that case was hard on my dad. He worked around the clock and it consumed his life for months. That was the earliest recollection I have of understanding what his job entailed.
The first book I wrote was loosely based on that case.
“I think there are multiple perpetrators involved.” He pauses, sighing. “And it might be a copycat.”
Fuck.
Based on what I heard while held captive, I figured that was the case, but to hear my dad—the police—verbalizing this causes my head to spin.
Writing always gave me the opportunity to right the wrongs and help others get the justice our system never gave them. But is it enough? Therewill always be more victims. More women dying and suffering at these hands of predators.
And now I am one of those women.
Chapter 6
River
Iwill be the first to admit my own flaws and hold myself accountable, but one thing I will never apologize for is my protective instincts.
And right now, they are focused on Lux Levinson.
It’s been a week since I dropped her off at her townhouse and have spent each night parked across the street under an overgrown tree that gives me an unobstructed view of her home.
But unfortunately for me, watching Lux through the cameras on my phone is no longer enough to satiate my infatuation. I need to be near her, touch her,tasteher. The desire to protect her has intensified to a level where I now find myself outside of a self-defense studio on a late afternoon, watching as she walks up the busy sidewalk toward the entrance doors.
Her matching workout clothes hug every curve of her delicious body while her luscious ponytail bounces between her shoulder blades, making my fingers itch with the urge to wrap my hand around it.
She whips her head around a few times, checking her surroundings as if she’s afraid someone might be following her. I’d much rather her stay locked in her house until Sebastian and I can eliminate the threats, but it’s not like I can walk up to her and demand something like that—or worse, take her for myself.
She reaches for the gym’s front door, and with one more glance over her shoulder, her eyes land directly on my car parked a few feet away.Although my windows are tinted to the darkest shade legally acceptable, I instinctively duck deeper into my seat and secure my aviator sunglasses to hide my face.
Our gazes meet, and for a moment makes me believe she can see me, but that would be almost impossible.
Lux slips in through the glass doors and disappears for her hour-long class.
Feeling bold and slightly desperate, I take that time to head back to her townhouse only a short distance away. I pull into the same spot under the tree and after a quick scan of the neighborhood to make sure no one’s around, I step out of my car and head toward the green belt at the back of the homes. Once I reach her back gate, I flip up the latch and walk onto a small patio. Potted white roses line one side of the area while others climb a wooden trellis standing next to the sliding glass door.
She would love the gardens at Thompson Manor.
Pushing the fleeting thought away, I slide my laptop from my bag and open my company’s software to jam the signal of the security sensor on the door. After successfully turning off her security system, I put my laptop back in my bag and quickly glance at the back door lock, which is a typical Mortice lever.
Being familiar with its type, I squat in front of the door and after a few quick movements, a subtle click breaks the quiet afternoon.
