Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“Got it.” I squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Jay. For everything.”
He pulls me into a quick hug. “Anytime, partner. You know I’ve got your back.”
As Jay steps away, Damien wraps an arm around my waist, guiding me to the car. His touch is comforting. My mind screams that I shouldn’t find solace in him, not after everything that’s happened, but I can’t help it. Not now. Not after losing everything.
Before we reach the car, Fire Chief O’Malley walks up, his face grim. “Detective DeMarco, I’m sorry for your loss. We managed to get the fire under control, but there’s not much left.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, my voice shaky. “Any idea what caused it?”
He shakes his head. “Too early to say for sure, but it looks like arson. The fire started in the back. We’ll need to do a full investigation.”
My stomach churns. The Butcher. Could he have done this? Is this his twisted way of coming after me? But I can’t say it out loud. Not yet. Not without proof.
“Thanks, Chief,” I manage to say, trying to keep my voice from breaking. “Please keep me updated.”
“Of course.” He gestures to one of the firefighters standing nearby. “I’ll have someone walk you to your car. Just to be safe.”
I nod, appreciating the gesture, but knowing deep down it won’t be enough. If the Butcher is behind this, he’s watching. I can feel it. He’s out there, somewhere, waiting for his next move.
Damien opens the passenger door, his movements careful, like he’s handling something fragile. Before I climb in, I turn to him, my voice barely a whisper. “Damien, about earlier…”
He rests his hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle. “You don’t have to explain. I know things got heated, and I’m sorry. I should have been there for you.”
A wave of doubt washes over me, but I push it aside. “I don’t know, Damien. Everything’s just so confusing.”
He pulls me into his arms, his hand moving in slow, comforting circles on my back. “I know, Francesca. You’ve been through hell and back. But I’m here. I’ll always be here. You can trust me.”
I want to believe him. For a second, I let myself melt into his embrace, the comfort too tempting to resist. “I do trust you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry about earlier, too.”
He pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes. “No need to apologize. Just know I care about you more than anything. My only goal is to protect you.”
I nod, feeling some of the weight lift, but there’s still doubt gnawing at me. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe those pictures weren’t what I thought. I just need to find this killer. I need it all to end.
“Let’s get you home,” Damien says softly, helping me into the car. “You need rest.”
As we drive away, I close my eyes and try to block out the chaos, but the thoughts keep coming. I’ve lost my home, my memories, and I almost lost Damien.
All because of a stranger. A faceless killer I can’t even begin to identify.
And that’s the scariest part of all.
CHAPTER TWO
Frankie
“Frankie, you shouldn’t be here right now,” Jay says, his eyes full of concern. “Look, it's okay to step back for a bit. You need to take care of yourself. You can’t keep pushing like this, it’s okay to take some time off.” He’s trying to protect me, but I shrug it off.
“I’m fine,” I snap, sharper than I intended. My gaze is locked on the whiteboard, filled with victims’ faces. Each one is a reminder of why I’m here, even as the fire keeps creeping into my thoughts.
“Your house just burned down, Frankie,” Jay says. “If you need to take care of things, I got this.”
I take a deep breath, slowly blowing out the frustration. “I spent all day on the phone with the insurance company,” I say. “They won't do anything until they know if it was arson. I can't even go over there yet.”
He just looks at me, concern written all over his face. I don’t have the time or the headspace for this right now. I take another breath, trying to get my focus back. “I need to work, Jay.”
Jay doesn’t argue, but the silence hangs between us. I glance back at him. “Are you ready to do this, or are you going to keep feeling sorry for me?”
He sighs, a hint of a smile. “All right, Frankie. I’m really sorry about your house. But let’s get to work.”
“Thanks, Jay.” I’ve thanked about fifty officers who stopped by the war room to offer their condolences on my house, all of them with a mixture of sympathy and pity in their eyes. I’m tired of hearing that shit and I need to focus on things that matter.
“We’ll probably never figure out who put the cameras in your place now, not that we were close to figuring it out, anyway.”