Page 1 of Dead Man's Wish
Prologue
Early March 2025
Bexley
The words movedthrough my mind as I heard them clearly over the phone. Staring at my computer screen and open notebooks, I couldn’t say my focus had really been in this conversation despite who was on the other end.
“But you know how serial killers can be,” the distinguished voice said, cutting through my zoned-out state with my most feared but equally engrossing topic. Bishop knew all too well what drove that beast forward.
“I do,” I responded quieter than I intended. “So, Old Oaks is still calm and sleepy?” I asked, interested for myself but also for shallow reasons. Brent was dead. I watched him die.I killed him.The thought of another serial killer springing up and striking never left me though.
“As far as serials go, I don’t have anything for you. There are a few cases I’d love to bring you in on, but they’re not really pressing.” Bishop took a deep breath, trying to hide that the topic still rattled him. That Brent, though dead, still shook him.
It was inevitable. The tightness started in my neck and worked its way down my spine as I rolled my head to shake off the looming dread associated with Brent Hale. Nausea rose with his name, and it reminded me of the time I woke up and faced a friend who had not only kidnapped my boyfriend and me, but also held a gun to my face, ready to kill. Therapy could only cleanse so much. The metallic tang in the air as someone bled out beneath you stained your senses and never left.
I’d grown too quiet on my end.
“We won’t let that happen again,” Bishop promised. “Ever.”
“I don’t think you have that kind of control over the wicked, Bishop.”
“How are you, though? Work still steady?”
“Yes,” I answered pleasantly. “Jaiden has been very busy scheduling our consults. There’s never a shortage of crime, as you know.” I picked up the pen closest to me, needing something to fidget with lest I wore a hole in the rug from bouncing my leg too much. “I actually just had a consult come through from Cape Haven.”
“Oh, really now?” he mused.
“Yes, really. Detective Westcott has a peculiar case ofhow it appears isn’t really how it happened.The evidence is pointing his team toward a burglary gone wrong, but you know West,” I said, leaving it open.
“I do, I do. What’s he certain of now?”
“He’s convinced this was personal—a crime of passion. He believes there’s more to the guy's motive, but they haven’t been able to get any more out of him and they aren’t sure they’re reading old information correctly at this point.” I spun in my computer chair, taking my eyes off the horrid case notes in front of me. The white wall behind me was filled with scholarly accolades and photos of Jaiden and me.
“Fresh eyes do wonders on a case like that.” I heard keys jingle, but they didn’t come from Bishop’s end of the line. “Westcott was the fresh eyes I needed for Brent at one point. The case files he’d been building were everything I felt was missing from our side.” There was another deep inhale from him, and echoing it was heavy footfalls that sparked a softness and lightness in my chest.
“Westcott did good work then.”
“He did . . .” Bishop trailed off as the handle of my office door turned. “It seems we always come back to that topic. Hopefully, he’ll become less and less of a looming shadow over time.”
How much longer, then?
I swiveled back around as the hinges squeaked, just in time to see the most intimidating presence duck through the doorway and offer a loving smile.
“Bishop?”Jaiden mouthed, the piercing above his teeth glinting softly.
“Yes,” I whispered back. He jerked his head in a sharp nod. “Jaiden says hello,” I translated.
“Tell him I said hello as well. Good catching up with you, kiddo. I’ll let you get back to work and I’ll call you should I need a consultation.” With that, we hung up the phone, offering the other no further words.
Kiddo.
He said it casually, as though I were his child. In many ways, that semester had made people family, and that was a claim I found endearing. Only, I wasn’t a kid anymore.
I catch killers now, Bishop. That innocence is long forgotten.
One
July 16, 2025:
