“Cold case,” I said. “Ridgemont County. Missing women. Same coin on both porches.”
He swore under his breath. “Pattern?”
“Single women. Alone. Stalker reports before disappearance.” I nodded toward the window. “She’s his type.”
Saint’s gaze went hard. “Then we break the pattern.”
Havoc joined us, crossing his arms. “We bring her to the tavern. Upstairs apartment. More eyes, more walls, more guns.”
The idea was already lodged in my own mind. “Soon,” I said. “But if we move her too fast, we spook her. Right now, she needs routine. Work. Normal.”
Saint nodded slowly. “So we adjust our normal.”
Trigger leaned around the corner of the tavern, paint-smeared and eavesdropping blatantly. “Does this normal involve me sleeping with a baseball bat?”
“Yes,” Havoc said.
“And keeping your mouth shut near Nora,” I added.
Trigger groaned. “You ask the impossible.”
I took a breath, shoved down the rush of anger and fear, and went back inside.
Nora looked up immediately.
She read my face in under a second. “What did he say?”
I could’ve softened it.
I didn’t.
“He ran the symbol,” I said. “It matches a cold case in Ridgemont County. Two of them, actually.”
The color drained from her cheeks. “Cold case?”
“Missing women,” I said gently. “Same type of coin left on their porches before they disappeared.”
Agnes, June, and Mabel went still. Every wrinkle sharpened.
Mabel murmured, “Dear Lord.”
Nora’s hand found the edge of the desk, gripping it tight. “So he’s done this before.”
“Yes.”
“And those women… they weren’t found?” she whispered.
I shook my head.
Something flickered behind her eyes—not just fear, but anger. Quiet, simmering anger.
“Why me?” she asked.
“Because you fit the pattern,” I said honestly. “You live alone. You have a routine. You walk home the same way every night. And you’re…” My jaw clenched on the last word.
Her gaze softened. “Visible?”
“Yeah,” I said roughly.
