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Right as she releases with the loudest moan, I unleash myself into her, unloading all the bullshit of the past few days, all the murder, deceit, lies.

But most of all, I give her my heart. My love.

And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.

The first thing I see when I wake up is Thea’s beautiful face.

This is what I want to see every morning for as long as I live.

I haven’t told her yet—she’ll think I’m crazy—but I know now I’m in love with her. Even after the oxytocin has waned, the feelings remain.

I’ll never love another woman the way I love her. I knew it the moment I met her. The twinge I felt when Wick tried to hit on her. The protectiveness I felt when those cops took her away at the gala. The instinct to take her in when she couldn’t stay in her own home. And the pride I felt when she figured out the riddle in the obit.

It all came from the same place. My love for her.

And I want to spend every morning I have left on this earthly plain with the woman I love.

I’ll start with breakfast. I’m low on groceries, so I’ll order something on DoorDash. Pancakes again, this time with whipped cream and strawberry syrup, scrambled eggs, maple bacon, and home-fried potatoes. Orange juice, which I’ll mix with some champagne I’ve been saving in my fridge for a special occasion.

What’s the special occasion? Spending the morning with the woman I love. The woman whose innocence I’m inches away from proving. I can’t think of anything more special than that.

I put the breakfast order in, get a pot of coffee started, and sit down at the kitchen table with my laptop.

Yesterday I researched everything I could on Rouge Montrose. Today I’m looking up Wick Blackwood.

First thing that comes up is his arrest record. Selling drugs, including to underage kids. Using them as well. Not the worst thing he’s done—not by far—but still, not a great look.

Remind me why I let him work for me?

Not for long. Murdering a fellow employee—his own brother, no less—definitely falls under rightful cause for termination.

I eventually find a subreddit dedicated to online dating in Chicago. A thread titled with his name pops up. I click on it. His mugshot pops up. Under it, the words “beware this guy.”

I read the post.

Hey girls. Wanted to share my story. I pulled this picture from public records. Yes, he was arrested. Should have done my research before going out. I had just broken up with my ltr and thought this guy would be a fun rebound. Yikes was I wrong. One night together and he starts texting me obsessively. Seriously considering a restraining order at this point.

Shit. I read some of the comments.

Omg, same thing happened to me. I was at a bar downtown. Date stood me up. This guy descends like a freaking vulture. Picks me up. Phone rings off the hook for days. WATCH OUT!

Another—

Same for me. Dad died out of nowhere. Heart attack. I go out for a drink and he’s there, like he expected me. Texted me nonstop for a week before I got my number changed.

More and more stories. The same MO. Woman is vulnerable. Wick swoops in and then acts obsessively until he moves on to his next target.

It’s interesting, and I’m not loving that Thea fell victim to his act, but it’s not exactly proof he’s a murderer.

No problem. I’ll dig into his past. I edit the search parameters again and find an old LinkedIn page. Apparently after doing community service as penalty for his drug record, he took on jobs as…a substitute teacher and part-time soccer coach?

This isn’t adding up.

Then again, lots of serial killers had normal jobs. John Wayne Gacy was a birthday clown, for fuck’s sake.

I keep searching, but the deeper I dive, the more I realize the information I want isn’t there.

Finally I search the names “Wickliffe Blackwood” and “Rouge Montrose” together. Wick worked at Jade before I got there, so maybe there’s a hint at the past.