When hunting a killer with a penchant for stealing faces and identities, you can’t be too careful.
“The cabin is a front.” He ground his molars. “The bedroom is nothing but a set of stairs leading down into a cavern. I’m too big to fit very far, but we’ve found his home away from home.”
“What aren’t you telling us?” Asa searched his face. “What did you see?”
“There are newspaper clippings.” Clay exhaled. “There are candid photos of Colby too.”
“I need to get down there.” I didn’t ask or wait for permission. “I have to see this.”
The climb down was well lit, thanks to the generator powering miles of string lights.
The main cave, which soared twelve feet high, split off into four different rooms. It was obvious this was the troll’s true home. A couch and recliner sat on a rug in front of a TV on a stand. The closest room had been converted into a simple kitchen with a fridge and a microwave. From the smell, it was plain another one had been used as a bathroom. But the smallest of them, the one that called to me the loudest, had once been a library. Until someone dumped the books on the sofa and made it a shrine.
Yellowed newspaper clippings from the Silver Stag case were taped to the wall in chronological order.
Layers of brittle tape curled, as if this mural had been taken down and put up many times over the years and the artist didn’t want to risk damaging the paper further. The fae presses had the most extensive coverage, but the major para newspapers—all magicked to appear blank to humans—had run the story.
Candids of Clay and me from those days filled spots here and there on the wall, but the bottom row…
For a moment, my heart forgot how to beat, and my blood turned to ice water in my veins.
Those photos were recent, taken within the last few weeks. If I had to date them, I bet I would find they were shot in the time since the first victims were found. The wards kept humans from seeing Colby, but paras could pick her out fine. The killer had taken a keen interest in her based on this spread.
There were dozens of photos of her. Just her. Her face. Her wings. Her legs. The rest of the mural might have been an afterthought compared to his dedicated study of her. Maybe he wanted to consume the one soul to escape the Stag and thus prove his superiority over his idol?
But how? How did he know about her? No one knew about Colby. She was my best kept secret.
The only way he could have discovered her existence was if…he was there.
The night she died.
The night I saved her.
The night I damned her.
“I have to go.” I stumbled back and fell onto the stairs, unable to pry my gaze from the collage. “Now.”
“Come on.” Asa helped me stand then guided me up into the cabin. “I’ve got you.”
“I called the Bureau.” Clay wrapped an arm around me. “They’re sending another team to handle this.”
“I’m calling in Malone,” Asa announced. “I want his input on this scene versus the previous ones.”
Our newest CI, criminal informant, could tie this case up for us with a bow. I just struggled to care.
All I could see was my first good look at Colby. All I could hear was her broken voice begging for my help.
I promised to protect her, keep her safe, and I was failing at the only job I ever had that mattered.
“This was a trap.” I blinked to clear my eyes, and tears poured over my cheeks. “She’s—”
“Shh.” Asa embraced my other side. “Not here.”
Forced to keep a wary eye out for the killer, we paced ourselves, causing the trek back to the SUV to take an eternity.
None of us spoke until the SUV’s tires hit the main road.
“This was a trap,” I repeated my earlier words. “He lured me away from home to clear a path to Colby.”