Page 10 of Run for Her Life
“I hate to pull rank here but this is FBI jurisdiction now. We have to follow protocol.”
Lisa pursed her lips and gave her a curt nod. “Ethan will secure the scene. The CSI is on their way to dig her up and collect samples.”
“Her?” Adam’s eyes sparkled with intent. “The victim is a woman?”
“Jesus Christ,” Aiden muttered under his breath.
“We should head back,” Zoe said to Aiden. “They can stay here and supervise.”
She sensed that Lisa wasn’t entirely on board with the plan as she made her way back to Ethan.
“I’m innocent,” Adam said. “And I can help you catch the killer. I know things. And I know everyone in town.”
Zoe’s gut twisted. She’d found herself navigating an unknown terrain and already managed to piss people off.
Zoe could feel the pressure building behind her eyelids the longer she stared at the laptop screen. She was busy scouring the Internet for anything she could find on Annabelle Stevens. But the woman wasn’t on any social media, which Zoe found odd given that everybody was on social media these days. She peered out the window into the cinching darkness of the woods that lay behind the station. Not a single flicker of light. Idly, she wondered how many bodies could be buried in such places. No light, no surveillance, no witnesses.
That was why she preferred cities.
She chewed on the pad of her thumb. Restlessness brewed in her chest like a swarm of bees trapped in there, desperate to get out. She needed something.An outlet. There was too much going on. Too many unknowns. She took out her phone and texted Benny.
Z: When can you pencil me in?
His reply was instantaneous.
B: Never. You didn’t tell me you were a suit.
She ground her teeth. She wasn’t FBI Agent Zoe Storm when she went to Benny’s club of underground fighting. She transformed into an animal, operating on pure instincts and emotions. Without that outlet, she could feel herself hardening into stone.
Emily!Her mother’s voice rang in her ears.
“Lisa just texted us.” Aiden waltzed into the room where Zoe had set up camp. “Storm?” Zoe blinked. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing.” She rubbed her temple. “What were you saying?”
Aiden stared at her and she stared back evenly, defiantly. She knew he wanted her to open up and he knew she wanted him to back off. He conceded and sat across from her. “They dug up the body. It’s Annabelle Stevens. They found ID on her.”
“Great. We got a killer who likes a game.”
“There will be more,” Aiden warned darkly. “Sending a poem to you means it’s a cat-and-mouse game. Look at the baseline behavioral markers. The offender presents with a high-functioning cognitive profile—linguistic complexity in the riddle suggests premeditation, possibly compulsive tendencies. This isn’t impulsive violence; we’re looking at someone who derives gratification from intellectual engagement with their own crime scene. This individual is asserting control over both the victim and the investigative process.”
“Yeah.”
He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “You have enemies. Is what’s happening related to what went down a month ago?”
Zoe stiffened. “This feels like an interrogation.”
“We’re on this case together. I need to know if there’s a link.”
She scoffed, irritated that he wouldn’t let it go. “That was my personal business.Thisis unrelated.”
“What kind of personal business would lead to someone attacking you and you won’t even file a police report?”
“Move on, Aiden.” Steel crept into Zoe’s tone. “Focus on the case. Where’s Adam?”
Aiden’s jaw hardened but he relented. “Still in holding. Insisting that he can help. You seem… irritable, which is rare for you.”
Zoe’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “The hot chocolate you got for me wasn’t sweet enough.” Her phone rang. Simon’s name flashed on the screen. “Hello.”
