“Did you do it?”
“Of course not. He wanted a second chance with Briana. I said I’d help. What are best friends for?”
It’s hard to keep the scorn from my voice. “Isn’t it true you cast him in a bad light?”
As I grip the mug, her fake laugh falls flat. “Is that what she said? L-O-L. Figures. She’s not exactly all there, but she would never murder him. No way.”
We ask a few more questions, but she doesn’t give us much. Other than implicating Briana, the rest of her story is vague—too much so, if you ask me. Like she’s practiced this version in the mirror.
After she hangs up, Hunt and I dig into the database. Over twenty questionable deaths fit our new criteria—solo female hikers, accidental causes, Eastern Seaboard.
Once we get DNA back from the skin under Briana’s nails, we’ll cross-reference the samples with the victims. I pray we can find some way to connect the missing dots.
Much later, the FBI Agent leans back, grinning. “This is exactly what we’ve needed. I’m calling the lab. Serial killers get bumped to the front of the line.”
While he steps into the other room, I stare at the sixties countertop, nursing the last of my lukewarm coffee.
Hang in there, Bree. Thoughts of our life-altering sex cloud my sleep-deprived brain. Underneath all her snark lies an intelligent, brave, witty woman. The only one I’ve ever imagined sharing my life with.
My musings come to an end at Hunt’s sharpthwackon the table. “Wulf said he could move her sample to the top.”
“Excellent.” Pushing back my chair, I stretch until my spine cracks. “I should go. Got sheriffy paperwork to do.”
In his front hallway, I stop to check on the notifications blowing up my phone. I thumb through the alerts, tap on a video link, and—
Holy crap. Over a million hits and climbing fast, my parking lot heroics have gone viral. Red-faced, fists clenched, I sound possessed as I shout at the State Troopers.
Whatever her family’s paying John Ito? It’s not enough. He caught the whole episode, then posted it on TikTok. This clip alone should be enough for a judge to grant bail.
More importantly, it will buy us time, perhaps enough, to find the real killer.
I scroll through the hearts, opening favorable comments.
Run for sheriff.
Finally, someone with a spine.
This is leadership.
Wow. My head spins. Before right now, I never considered making the position permanent. However, should I get married, a steady paycheck could come in handy. Most importantly, I could make a real difference.
We Vermonters deserve better than those bunch of trigger-happy yahoos. Someone needs to stand up for what is right.
Chapter 22
Briana
I can’t believe it. Me?Kill Brett?
Glancing at my ink-stained fingertips, I pace the tiny cell. Four cold, cinderblock walls contain a cot and a toilet. The metal bench bolted to the floor doubles as a shelf for my folded blanket. Of course, there’s no window.
When tears well, I swallow hard, forcing negative emotions down. This bad-ass pilot never gives up, never surrenders.
Thank God for Ito. If he hadn’t livestreamed the parking lot incident, I might be tagged, bagged, lying in a morgue. No doubt, they would’ve planted a gun on me to make it all legit.
‘Crazed Killer Thwarted by Heroic Cops.’ Yeah, the local news would’ve eaten that up in one gulp.
Ten steps, turn… Ten steps, turn.
