Page 42 of All the Missing Pieces

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I bet I could get you and Celia on a meditation retreat.”

“Dear God, please no. I know I’ve been a dick, but do I honestly deserve that?”

I arched a brow.

“Okay, I do.” Colt sighed, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry. I said things I had no right to.” He paused, seeming tostruggle for the next words. “I shouldn’t have questioned your motives.”

My lips twitched. “Ouch. That seemed painful to get out.”

He glared at me. “It was.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I appreciate it.” I searched for a way to say what I needed to without causing Colt more pain. “I can’t stop looking into this case.”

His jaw hardened again. “Had a feeling you’d say that.”

“I’ve linked other cases to Emerson’s. Similar victim profiles. I need to find out if I’m right. Because if I am, this monster isn’t just kidnapping. He’s killing.” I wasn’t ready to give Colt the Avery piece. Because I hadn’t given it to anyone. Not a single soul other than the filing cabinet in my van.

Colt’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Okay. Just—leave Emerson out of it. She’s been through too much. Won’t leave the house now because the fear and anxiety are too much. She won’t even go outside unless Trey or I are there.”

Pain washed through me for a young life cut short. Emerson might still be breathing but she wasn’t truly living. At least not as fully as she should’ve been able to.

“I’m so sorry. For her and for you. I know that has to be hard to watch, and to want to help but not know how.”

Colt dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, but nothing seems to help.”

“Therapy?” I asked.

He nodded. “Saw a therapist for years, and it did nothing. Even tried a few experts online, but it didn’t make a difference. Either that or she just wasn’t ready.”

“Maybe if we can find this monster, the real healing can start. She won’t be afraid because he’ll be behind bars.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried? I worked that case for years. Still pull it out every single year and go through all the evidence two or three times over, talk to witnesses. It’s like whoever did thisjust disappeared.” Colt gripped the back of his neck, squeezing hard. “And maybe they did. Maybe it was a random person passing through town. Crime of opportunity.”

“Maybe,” I said, trying to ease a little of Colt’s pain.

“You don’t think that,” he pressed.

“No, I don’t.” If I was right about the link between victims, that couldn’t be true. The unsub would’ve had to watch the girls. Research them. Be close enough to know they were just what he was looking for.

Shadows swirled in Colt’s eyes. “Just be careful. If this is what you think it is, whoever’s doing this isn’t going to be happy with you going digging.”

And more than that, I knew that I fit at least a piece of the monster’s victim profile. How could I not? I was Avery’s mirror image.

17

COLT

I leanedback in my chair, kicking my feet up on the porch railing and watching the sun sink lower in the sky. It hovered now at that point where it almost seemed like the globe of light would slip beneath the forests and then pop back up again to give us one last light show. The movement painted the small lake below in a riot of colors.

Taking it all in had Ridley’s words about searching for the sun playing in my mind. She wasn’t wrong; each way you turned, there was a new unique beauty to be found. It was one of the reasons I’d bought the place. The single slice of private land in the midst of a national forest. The beauty and the solitude. I just occasionally forgot to appreciate it all.

I took a sip of my whiskey. That first taste slid down my throat, warming me from the inside out. I’d need it in a minute. Because the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon for good, which meant cold could come on quick, even as we headed into summer.

Bowser’s head lifted from his paws, ears twitching. He might’ve been into his senior years, but his hearing was still just as good as when he was a pup. I followed his gaze, wondering ifhe’d heard a critter, but then I heard it: the crunch of wheels on gravel.

I couldn’t help the scowl that twisted my mouth. The people who could find their way up here were few and far between, and I wasn’t in the mood to see any of them. I was stewing. Maybe even pouting, if I was honest.

It had been a week since I’d tried to make things right with Ridley. I’d see her around town, talking to locals, doing interviews. If we were ever in close proximity, she’d give me a polite hello that I’d return.

---