Vic closed her notes app and stood up.“I'll pick up the laptop and notebook when I take you home to get some clothes.Then I'll start going through Elena's professional connections while you try to get some sleep.”
He nodded and gave her a raspy, dry “Thank you.”
Miles gathered the completed paperwork and signed the final forms.Elena's death was now officially documented, processed through the bureaucratic machinery that reduced human tragedy to case numbers and filing systems.In a few days, he would receive copies of everything for his records, permanent reminders of the worst day of his life.
“Ready?”Vic asked.
Miles took one last look around the room where he'd spent the evening filling out forms relating to Elena's death.Tomorrow, the medical examiner would begin the autopsy that would provide the official cause of death and forensic evidence for the investigation.Elena would become data points and lab results, another victim in a case that seemed to grow more complex with each new death.How in the hell was any of thisreal?
“Yeah,” Miles said quietly.“Let's go.”
As they left the medical examiner's office, Miles wondered if he would ever feel ready for anything again.Elena was gone, their future together was destroyed, and somewhere in the city, her killer was planning their next attack.The fluorine murders had become personal in the most devastating way possible, and Miles wasn't sure he had the strength to face whatever came next.Even as he left the ME’s office, he felt as if he was being pushed by some unseen hand, rather than walking ahead under his own steam.
But as they walked toward Vic's car, Miles felt a cold determination growing alongside his grief.The killer had taken Elena away from him, but they had also made a crucial mistake.They had revealed that they could research specific targets, access detailed personal information, and plan sophisticated attacks.It went beyond basic Bureau research; now it was personal, and he could attest to all of it.
There would be interviews where things would be confirmed, ending all guessing.It had hit Miles directly; by doing so, the killer and the mastermind had made a mistake… and neither of them even realized it.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Miles woke to the sound of his own screaming.
His throat felt raw.The bedroom was dark except for the green glow of the alarm clock: 2:25 AM.He sat up, chest heaving, Elena's name still echoing off the walls.
In the dream, she'd been calling to him from somewhere in the house.Her voice had sounded so real, so desperate.He'd searched every room, following that voice, but she was always just around the next corner, just up the next flight of stairs.He'd come into his office, where all of the information about the elemental murders was waiting for him, and Elena had been there, too, screaming as the weight of all the research buried her alive.
He stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face.The mirror showed a stranger—hollow cheeks, bloodshot eyes, two days of stubble.When had he last eaten?When had he last showered?
He returned to the bed, wanting so badly to sleep.But he felt he had to dosomething.He felt alone and as if his world had been ripped apart.There was no way in hell he could sleep.So, he pulled on yesterday's clothes and walked downstairs.The house felt different now.Contaminated.Every surface Elena had touched seemed to mock him with her absence.
The kitchen still smelled faintly of fluorine.He knew he was imagining it; the crews had confirmed that the house was safe shortly after 7:30 that afternoon.He wondered if he would always smell it for the rest of his life as he wandered around the downstairs portion of his house.
Miles found himself standing in the spot where Elena had collapsed.The crime scene techs had taken the device, bagged the evidence, photographed everything.But they couldn't take away the knowledge that she'd died here.Alone.Scared.Calling his name.
He walked to the front door and checked the locks.Then the back door.Then every window on the ground floor.The killer had gotten in somehow, probably by picking the lock on the back door.But the preliminary search by federal agents had not shown any clear evidence, even though they’d dusted for prints.
His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.He looked to it but ultimately ignored it.He did, however, see that it was somehow already 3:47 in the morning.
Miles sat at Elena's personal laptop, her work laptop having been taken in by Vic.He scrolled through her recent emails, not even sure what he was looking for.Some of her work material was often routed to her personal email, but it was small-time stuff.Work schedules.Meeting invitations, things like that.He also came across a message to her sister about bridesmaid dresses that would never be worn.
The phone rang again.He let it go to voicemail.His mother had been trying to call off and on and though he did want to talk to her eventually, he simply couldn’t right now.He wondered how she had found out.He certainly hadn’t called her.In fact, most of the time between Elena’s death and Vic dropping him off at home was like a fog of shattered memories.He could recall very little.
The phone rang again.This time he answered without looking at the caller ID.
“What?”he moaned.
“Miles, it's your mother.Honey, I've been trying to reach you for—”
“Mom, I’m sorry.But not right now, okay?I love you, but not right now.”
He hung up and sat on the spot where he had found Elena dead.He started to cry and then lay out on the carpet.And at some point, he faded out again into something resembling sleep.It was a restless and fitful nap, plagued by another dream.
This time Elena was sitting at the kitchen table, working on wedding seating charts.She looked up when he entered, smiled that warm smile that made everything else disappear.
“You're late,” she said.“We need to talk about the caterer.I’m having second thoughts on chicken.”
“Elena, you're—”
“Dead?I know.But we still need to figure out the menu.”
