Page 113 of Dream a Little Dream

Aaron’s chest ached, lips twitching into a faint, wry smile as Kenny’s care hit him harder than any words could. It was overwhelming. Disarming. And for a moment, it was everything.

Then, through the tremor of a hollow laugh, Aaron rasped, “Honey, I’m home.”

chapter twenty-three

Beautiful Things

Kenny wasunravelling.

But he forced himself to keep his composure as he navigated the bustling A&E, moving past nurses, doctors, and patients while his mind reeled with the gravity of what had just happened.

That had been too close. Right under his nose, Drew Whitmore had been lurking at the university, blending in without a single red flag. He was so ordinary, so unassuming, that Kenny hadn’t even thought to suspect him. Why would he? According to his records, he was a local church goer with no priors. At least none that had made it to their records. Yet so deeply entwined with the Howells’ twisted spree, he’d flown under the radar, and Kenny doubted he’d stopped since Frank and Roisin’s incarceration. Killers didn’t stop. They couldn’t. Somewhere, there had to be other bodies bearing Drew’s mark, and the police would need to uncover them all. Starting with last year’s campus suicides.

It had been hours since Aaron’s voice had broken through his phone, pulling him back to the riverside, to the last place Jessica had been over twenty years ago. The same place she met her end.The very thought had Kenny’s stomach in knots, heart clenched with a mix of grief, dread, and fierce gratitude.

He’d been waiting at Heather’s, helping Jack piece together evidence from the roses Drew had used to taunt them. Alice hadn’t been home when Heather called her ex-husband to bring her back to the house for questioning. She’d snuck out, climbing through her bedroom window to meet Aaron, likely drawn out by the same manipulation Drew had used to reel her in, playing on her vulnerability from her parents’ divorce. As Kenny had suspected she might.

Sometimes he hated being right.

When Kenny had dropped everything to race to the river, he’d braced himself for the worst, expecting to find Aaron barely holding on, broken by the horrors surrounding him. Instead, as he pulled up and saw Alice slumped in the mud, bound and filthy, dressed in her Halloween costume as Wednesday Addams, his entire world shattered. He’d gathered her up, tucked her safely in his car, then pinged his location to Jack. He then ran towards where Alice had been, feeling the familiar twisting dread as he approached Jessica’s last resting place. But it wasn’t Jessica this time. It was Aaron. And Aaron—God, Aaron had saved Alice’s life. Maybe his own.

Now, Kenny paced the hospital hallway, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart, the fractured images of Drew, Aaron, and Alice swirling in his mind. He’d nearly lost everything. Every single thing. He wasn’t sure he still hadn’t lost them all.

Maybe he wasn’t allowed to have anything normal?

Jack was in Alice’s cubicle, speaking to her softly, while Heather and Dave sat on either side of her, visibly shaken but holding her close. Drew was being held for questioning, the wound in his leg attended to but not serious enough to keep him out of custody for long. Aaron had missed the femoral artery by millimetres, which would have caused Drew’s death withinminutes. Whether Aaron knew or meant for that would go with him to the grave.

Also seen by the hospital, Aaron would be free to leave soon,hisfate resting on whatever Jack could extract from Drew.

Finally, Jack stepped out of Alice’s cubicle, shutting his notepad and offering Kenny a steady look. He approached, weary but resolute, and for the first time that night, Kenny felt a glimmer of relief. Of hope.

“How are you holding up?” Jack asked, studying him.

“Me?”

“Yes,you. We always forget to ask you.”

Kenny tried to force a smile. “I’m…okay.”

Jack gave him a sceptical look, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll be okay,” Kenny added, steadier, though the lingering ache in his chest might never heal.

Jack nodded, and a hint of an apology crossed his face. “You were right.”

Kenny’s mouth tightened. “About which part?”

“How it was all connected. Aaron was a victim, not a suspect. Our killer wasn’t new to this. That he was someone hiding in plain sight. Someone who’d sneaked through the cracks. Hell, he was the Howells’neighbour. And I’m going to guess part of the cult she was associated with.”

Sometimes Kennyreallyhated being right.

Because with every correct theory came another life, another family wrecked. How many more were out there? People like Drew, like Frank and Roisin, just blending in?

“And Jessica could be a victim of theirs. Or at least this arsehole’s.” Jack kept his voice low, as though not to startle him or for anyone to overhear him not using the correct term forperpetrator. “Hopefully, we’ll get a confession from him. But we’ll be taking that house apart, looking into everything. I’mpretty sure we searched it before, but we’ll tear it upside down. We’ll get him tied to it, eventually.”

“Look further,” Kenny said. “Wherever he’s been, there’ll be bodies. He’s been too good at this for there not to be.”

Kenny closed his eyes, sucking in a long, shuddering breath. He’d always suspected Jessica was part of the Howell murders, but hearing how the actual killer had long been free to kill and kill again reopened that painful wound. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, but Jack reached out, placing a hand on the back of his neck, guiding his gaze back to him.

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