“Absolutely.”
With a forced exhale, Quinn nods resolutely. “All right. I just need to know…” He trails off, searching for the right phrasing. “Connelly’s not good for this, is he? There’s no way?”
I don’t blink. “No. I’m positive. He’s not the UNSUB.”
As Quinn absorbs that truth, I can see the battle raging behind his walls. By trusting me, he’s going against everything he stands for. “So then we’re looking for someone connected to Connelly and the Roanoke killings.”
I release a tense breath. “The profile on the Roanoke serial killer and Connelly’s whereabouts during those three years puts Connelly at the scenes of all the cold cases. But he wasn’t alone. He had a partner. It’s as we speculated before; a master and servant. Connelly had an apprentice.”
“So which is which?” he asks.
I hold his unyielding gaze. “The apprentice is our UNSUB.”
2
Tick Tock
UNSUB
Do you know who I am?
Let me tell you a story. The details will help you connect the pieces, and as my voice lulls you into a safe, warm haven, the clues will start to paint a picture.
I love our story. She’ll enjoy it, too. Precious alabaster skin. Soft hair. Clear, crystal tears. Avery loves to hear me talk, because she’s learned it’s the only time I don’t desire to hear her screams.
I confess; I don’t usually take a liking to my pets. They’re dispensable. A necessity, yes, but an entertainment that quickly loses amusement and continuously needs to be upgraded to achieve fulfillment. It’s exhausting, really. The constant demand to find the next new, shinier toy.
I don’t regard any of them enough to use their names. But this pet—Avery—is different. She’s exquisite. She’s important to my love, so therefore, important to me, and must be handled delicately. Reverently.
And as such, I run my fingers through her silky hair as I begin my tale. The story of us.
There’s a bar tucked away on the outskirts of a city. It’s completely unimportant. Could be any bar. Could be any city. But on this particular hunting night, with a sliver of moon nicking the black sky, it’s the perfect setting.
I sat on a barstool and watched. As always. Bored and hoping he would choose quickly, I sipped at my drink as my agitation grew. The monotony was getting to me, see. After three years of grooming, I was confident I was ready to take charge. It would be nearly two years before I realized that he needed me more than I needed him, and this was his way of keeping me compliant. But regardless, I was yearning for something…new.
I’m not delusional enough to believe that this was the reason she walked through those doors, but she did all the same. Wearing a little red dress, just like the innocent child of the fated fairytale, she strode through the room, tempting all the big, bad wolves.
But she was no innocent.
She wore her color of power, of temptation, for one purpose: she was a hunter.
Like the deceptively poisonous Monarch that purposely invites attention with its brilliancy, her beauty signaled a warning to predators. Look but don’t touch.
Is she really dangerous, or is it a guise? Does her skin truly taste of venom, or is she as sweet as she looks…
My mouth watered. The question of her was enough to trigger every fascination.
There was only one truth to be sure of: she would complete me.
I wasn’t the only enraptured beast that night in that dank little bar, hungering for her liquid green eyes to lay claim to me. But I was the only one to escape her shrewd, predatory gaze.
That’s why I was chosen in the first place, after all. The wallflower. The unnoticed. The overlooked. My mentor convinced me this was a strength, not a weakness. He took me under his wing and transformed me. He molded me into a stealthy demon that crept in the shadows and sprang only when all elements aligned.
So on this night, while the huntress was stalking her prey, I was safely studying her from the sidelines. I didn’t know then that it was in my power to stop what was to come. How could I?
You see, I was preoccupied. The murder of a city girl had shown a spotlight right on us. It had only been two months since my first kill—since my mentor granted me permiss
ion to demonstrate what I’d learned—and the details of the recent murder resembled my technique so closely that even my mentor was suspicious.