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If I were still his attorney, still his champion, I’d tell Ryker the killer is playing him. I’d tell him Jeremy is innocent. Instead, I ask, “What actual evidence do you have linking Jeremy to these crimes?” and do so hoping for DNA, or anything consequential, for that matter.

“The crime scenes alone connect him.”

My lips twist sardonically. “In other words, you have nothing. No DNA. No hard facts. Just another weak connection to him, and a lot of speculation any good attorney will attack and use to get him off.” Anger curls inside me. Yet again, Jeremy would get away if this was what was used to charge him. I shut the file and hold it out for retrieval by either one of them, quickly, I hope. I’m fairly certain I’m going to throw up at any moment. “Take it.”

“Ms. Thorne—” Ryker begins.

“Has seen enough,” Oliver snaps, moving to kneel by my chair. His hand settles on my leg. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so shaken.”

My lips are as dry as my throat, and I wet them. “I let him go free, Oliver. How am I supposed to live with that?”

“No,” he corrects. “My office let him go free. We counted on circumstantial evidence last time around. This time will be different.” We’d carefully avoided case discussion during the trial, but I knew Oliver’s opinion of the current district attorney was no better than mine. “We’re going to make it different, or we wouldn’t be here. We’re leaving no stone unturned.” Right. He’s making sense. The past is done. Over. I can’t save those who were lost, but I can stop Jeremy before others die. I open the file again and begin to read. I’m not sure how long I sit there or how long the two men watch me in a silence so thick you could have heard a pin drop, but I don’t allow myself to be rushed by their presence.

“Keys,” I murmur when, in my mind’s eye, a memory surfaces from the vision back in the courtroom. Jeremy was holding a set of keys with a pink charm on the chain that read JB. I’d felt his pleasure at possessing them, too. They were a prize meant to remind him of his victim. I’d seen the woman’s face and a mailbox with her name on it. Joyce Bean. That was her name. My stomach lurches. Could this be an undiscovered victim with a family still hoping she is alive somewhere?

Swallowing against the bile in my throat, I glance up to realize Oliver is back on the couch, sitting next to Ryker, but I’d never felt him move.

“I…” My sentence falters as I struggle to figure out how to tell them what I know—no, what I think I know—without sounding crazy, without the timing being way off. “There was this incident I blew off. Jeremy was carrying a keychain with a pink charm on it that read ‘JB.’ I jokingly commented about him liking pink. He said the charm belonged to an old girlfriend named Joyce.” I want to scream out her full name, but it doesn’t seem logical that he would offer that to me in my false version of the truth.

“There’s no known girlfriend for Jeremy,” Oliver states. “Ever.”

“He told me…” I wait for another lie to form. God, I hate this. “She died in a car crash. Maybe that was a lie. Maybe she’s a past or future victim?”

“Let’s hope she’s a living, breathing chance at forensic evidence,” Oliver supplies.

“I’ll call it in to my team,” Ryker chimes in. “See what we can find out.”

I nod. “Yes. Okay.” I shut the file. “I’m afraid other than that, I just don’t remember anything. I’ll think about it, though, and I’ll review my old records.”

“Excellent,” Ryker says, glancing at his watch. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about flying out tonight, we need to get to the airport.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees, “we better head out.”

“You’re leaving tonight?” We’re all on our feet when I ask that question, and I barely remember getting up.

“I have to be back in court tomorrow,” Oliver explains. “I actually chartered a plane that’s waiting for our return. I can’t believe you drove this trip. It’s not short.”

“Not all of us have a father who’s a CEO of a charter service,” I remind him, which would normally be me teasing him, but it comes out flat. And before he can object to my response, I add, “I know you would have gotten me a plane, and it’s appreciated, but I needed the time on the road to clear my head.”

“I get it, but I hate you being on the road alone. I have to fly out tonight, but I can come back and drive home with you, if you want.”

This man, this crazy, wonderful, amazing man and friend, keeps me from feeling alone. “Yes. When I’m ready. I’d like that.”

“Then it’s a date,” he says with a wink. “Ah, not really. You hate dates.” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I’d say I’ll call you, but you don’t answer your phone.”

“I will,” I promise apologetically, and mean it, realizing now how much I’ve missed Oliver. I desperately want to tell him everything, but this visit solidifies the realness of what is happening to me. I don’t understand it. I don’t know what it means or how it affects those around me.

I offer Ryker the file, and he accepts it.

“Thank you, Ms. Thorne.” He extends his hand to shake mine.

My heart thunders in my ears so loudly, I might as well be standing in the center of a marching band. I stare at his outstretched palm.

Take it, I tell myself. Take it and get it over with. “Happy to help,” I manage to say and slide my palm against his. Instant ice races up my arm and seems to wrap around my heart. I am frozen inside and out and staring into eyes that swirl with a yellowish glow. Seconds tick by like hours. I am back in the courtroom, time standing still, staring into Jeremy’s eyes. Only this isn’t Jeremy.

Ryker releases my hand and steps backward, leaving me gaping at him. A sly smile slides onto his lips, a clue he knows exactly what just happened, and yet…his eyes are brown again. How can his eyes be brown again? I swallow hard. Were they ever yellow?

Oliver steps between us, saving him from my hunt for venom in Ryker’s stare. He hugs me. He is warm, and his body steals the chill from my bones. I cling to him, needing him close.