The Girl in the Mist (Misted Pines 1)

I glanced at Celeste.

She bit her lower lip even as she stretched it out.

So that was Malorie to a tee.

Poor Malorie. Probably trying to be helpful and forge her own path and someone cut that path off permanently.

“That’s a part I don’t get,” Bohannan continued. “Because Malorie might have been a pain in her ass, but she was gone, acing all her classes, pre-law and on a trajectory she’d probably never come back to MP. And Betty never told anyone she knew Ed screwed around on her. So I don’t know how she expected Lana to know to send an invitation.”

I didn’t know that either.

I let them all eat.

Bohannan got through most his eggs, a triangle of toast, and two rashers of bacon, before he picked it up again.

“He had a boat.”

And it kept coming.

“No stripe, but it was night, and mist can play tricks.”

I bet.

“And you?” I asked.

He shook his head. “They didn’t mention it to her under interrogation. She didn’t either. And I would say she had no clue this was all about him dicking with me. Pillow talk about how Ed done her wrong, how Audrey had to pay, which naturally, for her, formed into a plan where they worked together, without her having that first clue she was being played or it had anything to do with me. She knew about Alice. She knew about Malorie. She’d heard about David, but she swears it wasn’t him. When it was because Robertson ID’d him as the guy we were chasing. She thought they were done, letting the dust settle and then she was gonna leave Ed, and they were going to ride into the sunset.”

“Did he look like the sketch?”

“Not exactly. Same build. Also dark hair. But he’s got Italian ancestry and looks it. I’d say attractive, but not pretty, like the guy down in Cali. Either the composites weren’t quite right or whoever that guy was, was probably paid and picked for build and because they share some similarities. Betty didn’t know about him, but she said our guy didn’t go down to Cali except to get Malorie, so there are parts of his gig he didn’t share. Though why he would choose someone who looked remotely like him, I don’t get, because you couldn’t miss the similarities, and if it was me, that wouldn’t be what I’d be going for.”

I didn’t get it either.

And I guessed now we’d never know.

I was careful when I queried, “How did a decorated, ex-army sniper with a weekend warrior camp in the next town fly under radar?”

“He didn’t. I mentioned him to you weeks ago. We checked him out. He had alibis. He was hunting lynx in Canada during Alice’s disappearance and murder. Had passport stamps and his name on flight manifests to prove it. But this guy has the skills to cross back over the border without anyone seeing, which Betty told us he did. He also had a side piece, a woman that Betty didn’t know about, who alibied him for Malorie. They’re trying to find her, but my guess is, she’s gone. And as we know, he did David.”

“Ace athlete?”

“All-state cornerback.”

“Functional family?”

“That we don’t know. Though, the dad was floored and then he started sobbing when he got the call his boy went up in a ball of flame he lit himself after he was the target of a three-day manhunt because he allegedly committed two murders and attempted one. So I’d say, maybe.”

“So you profiled him almost exactly,” I remarked.

Bohannan held my gaze in a way I found strange.

And replied, “Yeah. Almost exactly.”

I’d let them finish eating.

It was later, in our room, after he showered, I sat on the counter between the basins as he shaved the skin of his neck.

“You don’t like him for this?” I asked.

“I love him for it,” Bohannan answered. “And I’m excellent at what I do. But it’s like he came to life in my profile.”

“Something missing?”

“I can’t see it if there is. Betty copped to all of it, but David.”

“But there’s an issue.”

“Yeah. But profilers can get twitchy. Sometimes someone just ticks all the boxes, and it gets tied up in a bow. It’s just hard, when you’re that close to it, when you’re living and breathing it, to recognize it’s done and let it go.”

He put the razor down and turned fully to me.

“Sometimes, you can even miss it. You love the hunt so much, you don’t want to let it go.”

“Are you feeling that?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s not too certain,” I noted.

“You were in this. Celeste was in this. The twins were in this. I don’t like the idea that I was back in the game again, and now I’m feeling hinky because I got off on it.”

I tipped my head. “Did you get off on it?”

“I’m good at what I do,” he repeated. “I’d started casting a net, looking for a place to retire. I’ll admit to feeling a little burnout. So I was thinking maybe getting out of the game and doing it early. Grace pushed that. In the end, I got out because Grace was done with me being gone all the time. She had a job. Advertising. She was a big shot. Made great money. She took three months maternity leave with the boys, only one with Celeste. We had a nanny both times. She was so serious about having me around more, she gave up her job, set up a small shop of local clients here in MP. Car dealership commercials and local store ads. Nothing like what she used to be doing, running huge campaigns for multi-national corporations. But Dad died, she saw the opportunity for a quieter life, I’d talked to her about having that in our future, she thought I’d like it. Thought it’d feel good, being home, where Mom had been. I saw that for Celeste. For me. And I thought she’d settle, and it’d make her happy. Us a family. So I did it. But that doesn’t mean a part of me didn’t want to.”