“Well, thanks, and thank you for getting me out of there,” I tell him, meaning every word. If he hadn’t been with me, I would have died on that filthy floor.
“Don’t thank me. All I did was make a call.”
“Not true, but tell me what happened. The only thing Mickey told me was the fucker was dead, but I think I already knew that.”
“Yeah, you got him. Once in the head and once in the shoulder.”
“Pretty sure I was aiming for the head both times.”
“One was all you needed.” He shrugs.
“What did they find?”
Chauncey lowers himself into the seat my sister left about an hour ago after my insistence and sighs. “A clusterfuck. The techs are still sorting through that shithole and probably will be for another week.”
“Anything that ties him to our serial?” I know the shooting was justified. The details are still a little foggy, but I remember thinking the tip was a bust, since the place seemed abandoned. After finding the back door open and identifying myself, I entered just in case. Most importantly, I know I wasn’t the first one to fire my weapon. What I don’t know is if we stumbled into something unrelated or if he was our guy.
“Yeah, early DNA matched a few of our victims. We’re still waiting on some results.” Chauncey looks around. “She in the bathroom or something? I’m surprised she didn’t request a bedpan so she wouldn’t have to leave.”
“Harlyn?”
Chauncey furrows his brow when he looks back at me. “Who else?”
“She left.” I hold up the three pieces of paper that haven’t left my bed since I read them several hours ago.
“Left?” he scoffs.
“I was actually hoping you would know more about that. Did they put her in a safe house?”
“You don’t know?” Chauncey grabs his forehead and squeezes.
“Don’t know what?” This time, I use my bunched fists on the bed to push me upright, ignoring the pain in my stomach and side.
“Ah damn, Boone, I thought… Hell, I don’t know what I thought, but I assumed someone told you.”
“Told me what?” My voice is rising.
“Calm down, man, calm down.” He looks over at the machine tracking my vitals. “They found pictures.”
“What pictures?” I demand when he doesn’t continue fast enough.
“Of the sister in the Wade case.”
“Harlyn’s sister, Hayzel?” My head is spinning, trying to sort out what that could mean.
“Yeah, and several others. It looks like our unsub had more than one MO and signature.”
“No fucking way.” I shake my head.
“I know, the profiles are completely different,” Chauncey agrees.
“Worlds different.”
“I’m just telling you what the evidence says.”
“You’ve seen it?” I demand.
“Yeah, it’s her.” He rubs his hand over his eye and cheek before adding, “There were pictures of Harlyn too. I didn’t tell her about those.”
