Page 48 of Choosing Us

“And then he just, what? Showed up in New York with a private jet like some kind of prince charming?” Aisha practically squeals on the other end of the line, and I cover my face as the blush she can’t even see spreads across my cheeks.

“It definitely felt surreal. And I felt so … relieved when I saw him standing there waiting for me,” I confess.

“Aw … he’s your person.” She didn’t return from her date across the Atlantic married, but she and Eddie are officially a couple—officially in an adorable, swoony yet mature relationship. Since she came back from visiting her former-archnemesis-turned-lover, Aisha is even more of a romantic than she was previously. Maybe there’s something to us dealing with hard situations in our work lives that makes us long for romantic notions in our personal lives.

“I mean, I think he could be. Is that crazy?” I close my eyes and lean my head back on my office chair. When I woke up in Ryan’s guest room yesterday, it still felt like a dream. I wasn’t sure if the dynamic would be different between us after he showed up for me in such a literal way, but if anything, our connection felt deeper, not different, just richer. He snuck out before I woke up, and when I came downstairs, he had cinnamon rolls and coffee from Java Jive waiting for me on the kitchen island.

And his house? Talk about a Pinterest dream, and that’s before he explained how it used to be his grandparents’ home, then one of his brothers renovated it for him. Nostalgia and emotional capital all wrapped up in the house of my dreams?

I had to remind myself more than once that this was actually my life, and I wasn’t sleeping.

I may have even left a tiny bruise from where I pinched myself on my arm.

“I love that so much for you, Harlow. Seriously, he sounds great.”

“He is.” Whatever I was going to say next is interrupted by Christine knocking on my door and pointing to the conference room. “Shoot, I have to go. I’m getting called into a meeting.”

“Of course. Text me when we can schedule a video chat to discuss all these swoony moves by this man.” Aisha laughs before adding in a more serious tone, “Go get the bad guys and be safe, honey.”

“Always. Talk to you soon, lady.”

I grab my two notebooks and fountain soda from lunch—that I purchased myself today—and walk to the conference room with a smile on my face.

Until I see the grim look on Mason’s face, that is.

He nods as I take my usual seat at the table.

“Is it a new case or an update?” I inquire, knowing that he’ll want to keep most of the details until the rest of our team arrives.

“Update, unfortunately.” His sullen tone matches the room’s atmosphere.

Tara and Kelly arrive just behind me, and Walker enters the conference room with Christine right behind him, closing the door. “What do we have, Mason?” he calls out as he takes his seat at the head of the table.

“We, unfortunately, are finding out after the fact, but there has been another case that matches the previous homicides committed by The Carnation Killer. Carmen Martinez was a thirty-four-year-old single woman who was discovered in an isolated area of a city park on the morning of July fifteenth of this year.”

“July? What the hell, it’s December!” Kelly calls out.

“Let’s let Mason present the update, then we can collectively get pissed off together, alright?” Walker says, and Kelly nods but tosses his pen on the table slightly harder than necessary.

“Carmen had told friends that she was meeting a date from a dating app, and the last contact with loved ones was prior to the expected date.” The unsub hasn’t used dating apps to lure his victims that we know of. Up until now, it’s been a crime of opportunity where he cares more about the setting than the victim’s demographics thus far.

Something’s changed.

“Is there any video of the date?” Tara asks.

Mason shakes his head. “Not that we can confirm. The bar where she met the date, or was going to meet the date, is old school and doesn’t have any cameras inside. Local police interviewed bar staff and customers, with a few of them placing Carmen sitting at the bar for approximately twenty minutes before being approached by a man, but no one could confirm or deny if that was who she was planning on meeting, or if this man approached her out of the blue.”

“So, the dating app could be a non-starter?” Kelly asks.

Mason shrugs. “I don’t know yet, but now that we’ve been given access, it’s on my list to get into her cell phone records and see what I can find, or if there’s anything I can trace, even though we are five months after the fact.”

“If the unsub is even remotely smart, he’s long gone from the app by now,” I say without thinking, but my team is used to me verbally processing when my mind is going too fast to catch up.

“Where are the crime scene photos?” Walker asks as Mason pulls up the scene that is eerily similar to the previous crime scenes—except for two very distinct differences.

“The lips.” Kelly points to the screen and notices it the same time that I clock the first variance. Up until now, the victims had a dark red lipstick applied to their lips, but Carmen’s lips are vibrant pink. Not red. But the question is whether that shift in ritual is symbolic to the killer or was his ritual disrupted by something?

I tilt my head and get up from my seat to step closer to the screen. “Yeah, the color is different, and that may be significant, but … can you zoom in here?” I point to the victim’s body where her hands are resting on her belly.