Prologue
Thirty Years Ago: The Arrest – 3:47 A.M.
The SWAT teammoved in before dawn, their boots silent against the cracked pavement outside the Holloway Motel, where the suspect resided.
Charlotte’s body was betraying her. She was twelve weeks pregnant, and though the dizziness had subsided, her fatigue weighed heavier than her fear of failure. It had taken months to track down Gideon Ward, months of unraveling his twisted patterns and obsessively studying the clues.
She should have stepped back. Her captain had suggested it. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. This was her case. It felt personal, and the stakes were higher now that she was carrying a child.
She locked eyes with the lead officer. "Go."
The battering ram slammed into the door, splintering the wood and echoing through the narrow halls. The chaos inside was almost deafening, and yet, Charlotte felt a strange stillness—a quiet certainty that Ward was waiting for them.
She was the first through the door, gun raised, her movements automatic. She had trained for moments like this, but this time, something felt wrong. Too calm. Too clean.
Ward was sitting there on the ratty couch, a slow smile curling his lips. Not startled. Not confused. Just waiting. He didn’t reach for the gun on the armrest. He didn’t fight. He didn’t move.
Something twisted in Charlotte’s gut, but she steeled herself. The cuffs clicked shut around his wrists. "Gideon Ward, you’re under arrest." Her voice was steady, but inside, she felt a mix of dread and anger rising—heavier even than the baby in her belly.
Ward chuckled as they pulled him to his feet. “Hello, Charlotte. You don’t get it yet, do you?”
Charlotte ignored him, her eyes narrowing as her partner, Graham Cullen, pushed him toward the door. She had enough to deal with, and Ward’s taunts weren’t going to distract her. But that smile—that unsettling, knowing smile—lingered in her thoughts. It didn’t leave her, not even when the detectives started processing his room and pulling trinkets from the scene—items stolen from the victims’ homes. Jewelry. Keys. A child’s bracelet.
It was enough to place him at the crime scenes. Enough to secure a conviction.
THE INTERROGATION– 9:12 P.M.
The interrogation room was small, windowless, suffocating. The walls were a faded gray, the single overhead bulb casting harsh shadows across Ward’s face.
Charlotte sat across from him, elbows resting on the metal table, hands curled into fists. Her partner stood leaning against the wall. She had spent the last twelve hours building the case against him. The nausea had started creeping in around hour six, but she had kept it together.
Ward’s cuffs clinked softly as he shifted, settling into his chair. He had been like this since the moment they brought him in—not agitated, not panicked. Just watching. Studying her.
Charlotte met his gaze without flinching.
Ward’s lips quirked at the edges. “Long night, Detectives?”
Charlotte ignored the comment. “You had a pattern. A ritual. What was it?”
Ward smiled. “Wouldn’t you rather figure it out for yourself?”
Charlotte leaned forward. “You bound them. You blindfolded them. But you didn’t touch them. You didn’t kill them. You left them catatonic… so broken they couldn’t even talk. How? Why?”
Ward exhaled, shaking his head in amusement. “The brain’s function is an art form, Detective.” His voice was soft, almost reverent. “And you? You’re just a critic. You don’t understand the beauty of it.”
Charlotte clenched her jaw. She had seen sadists before. This was something worse.
Ward tilted his head, his gaze dropping, just for a second, to her stomach.
Charlotte didn’t move, but her spine went rigid. It was barely noticeable. She wasn’t even showing. But he had noticed.
His smirk widened, slow and deliberate. “Ah.”
Charlotte’s fingers tightened on the table. “Ah, what?” she asked flatly.
Ward shrugged. “Nothing. Just interesting how some people… take risks.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “How some people go to war… even when they shouldbe protecting something far more precious.” A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.
Charlotte’s pulse pounded in her ears. She refused to react. But Ward… he saw it. The tiniest flicker in her eyes. The barely-there tension in her shoulders. He knew. And now, she knew that he knew.
