Page 128 of Out for Blood
Two years of refusing to quit.
Two years of not allowing them to become just another cold case file collecting dust on a shelf.
The answers still haven’t come.
The ache of that truth hasn’t gotten any easier to carry.
But neither has my resolve.
I close my eyes for a moment and think of Marie’s laugh and Sofie’s shy smile.
I think of the lives they were supposed to have.
The futures they deserved.
A breeze stirs through the parking lot, lifting strands of hair from my face.
I open my eyes.
Marie and Sofie deserve someone who keeps looking.
Someone who won’t forget them.
My fingers curl around the car door handle and I climb into the car. Soon, the morgue is in my rearview mirror as I drive home.
The world may have forgotten them, but I haven’t.
I won’t stop until I find them.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The house is cloaked in darkness when I walk inside the front door. Now that the adrenaline is gone, fatigue creeps in from every direction, the feeling of bone-deep exhaustion as my shoulders hunch forward.
There aren’t any lights on in the entryway, shadows pool in the corners. No movement or sign of life, only the low hum of the air conditioner. I take off my jacket, kick off my shoes and place the jacket along with my purse and keys on the hooks, our drop spot for our stuff.
I close the door behind me, locking it, a habit. There are three bolts on it besides the typical one and I recheck to make sure I got them all, as always.
Only one door has a ribbon of light stretching under it.
I work a hand through my hair and glance toward Tyler’s office door.
Of course, it’s closed and he’s in there.
The man treats sleep like an inconvenience and downtime like a foreign language. Most people unwind after a long day. They watch television, read a book, scroll through their phones, or simply sit stillfor a while.
Not Tyler.
Tyler immerses himself behind a wall of monitors and glowing screens, chasing leads long after everyone else would have called it a night. The soft clatter of keys and the hum of electronics have become as familiar to me as my own heartbeat. His mind is always moving, always searching, and always trying to solve the next problem.
Restlessness lives in his bones. If he’s awake, he’s working. Digging through databases. Following digital footprints. Building maps out of divided pieces of information that nobody else would notice.
It’s equal parts impressive and concerning.
And if the light is still spilling from beneath that office door, it means he’s found something worth losing sleep over.
My feet carry me to the back of the house where his office is located and by the time I get to the office door, I already know what I’ll find.
I push the door open softly and Tyler is exactly where I expected him to be, hunched over three monitors, coffee cups strewn across the desk, and open notebooks cover what little space is left.
