Into the Fading Twilight (Starlight Grove, #2) (52)

Fuck me.

My hand lifted, ghosting over the side of her face. “Phoenix, I’ll hug you anytime you want.”

Her whole face softened, and more than that, it lit with a glow. “You’re an amazing man, Kol. And Skylar is pure magic. Everyone who comes into your orbit is better for it. If your ex couldn’t see that, then it’s her damn loss.”

And for the first time, the burn of everything that had happened didn’t hurt quite so much. And Nova? She was pure magic, too.





CHAPTER TWENTY


Kol




I’M TELLING YOU, I THINK THIS CASE IS CONNECTED,” PETE argued.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I sat at the conference table. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to deal with him today. “It doesn’t track.”

“Because she has blond hair?” Pete snapped. “Travis didn’t have a consistent victim profile.”

That much was true. Even if his largest victim pool consisted of women in their twenties with dark hair, he also targeted men, older women, and all different ethnicities.

“You’re right,” I began, hoping that might appease Pete’s ego. “But there is a strong geographic profile.”

Pete scoffed. “That geographic profiling stuff is a bunch of bullshit. It hasn’t even been proven to work.”

My back molars ground together. I’d have liked to tell him that my brothers and I had used it on countless cases, and it had been a game changer. It had led to us discovering linked cases, even identifying the area where an unsub lived or worked—information that Dex then anonymously dropped into an investigating officer’s email inbox.

But no one knew about our little side project. And that was how it needed to stay.

“Call it whatever you want, but you know good and well that Travis only kidnapped victims from a circle of towns and counties where he could insert himself in the cases. You’ve seen the profile. He needed to be a part of the case.”

“Profiling,” Pete huffed. “It’s a pseudoscience at best.”

He’d better not say that to the people who spent countless years training and honing their skills. And I’d seen profiling lead to numerous breakthroughs. Not to mention all the stories Dex had shared from his time supporting the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI.

“Fine,” I clipped. “Don’t call it profiling. Just call it halfway decent investigative work and look at the damn commonalities.”

Pete opened his mouth, most likely to spew more bullshit, but my phone rang, cutting him off.

Roger’s name flashed on the screen. I swiped the cell off the table and answered quickly. “Archer.”

“Hey, man. I caught a case that has my spidey-senses tingling.”

Everything in me went on alert. “What is it?”

“Twenty-three-year-old woman with dark-brown hair went missing from a campsite near Three Creeks Canyon Trail. Her boyfriend said she went off to pee and never came back.”

Everything in me stilled. Three Creeks Canyon Trail was where Brae and Nova had been hiking when Nova was taken. “It’s probably a coincidence.”

“Probably,” Roger agreed. “Still wouldn’t mind your eyes.”

“I’m on my way. Which campsite?”

“Aspen Falls.”

“Got it.” I stood from my chair, ending the call.

“What is it?” Pete demanded.

Damn it all to hell. If he hadn’t heard the call, I never would’ve taken him with me, but now there was no avoiding it. “Missing woman, Aspen Falls off Three Creeks Canyon Trail.”

Pete’s eyes lit with excitement. “Seriously?”

My gaze narrowed on him. He sounded like a kid who’d just been told dinner was ice cream sundaes. “Take your own vehicle. I have stuff to do after.”

I stalked out of the conference room but didn’t miss Pete’s muttered “asshole” as I walked out.

I might be an asshole, but it was a hell of a lot better than being an opportunistic bloodsucker.





My truck hugged the curve of the gravel road as I made my way deeper into the wilderness. Fall in Starlight Grove was the time of year I loved most. The golden glow of aspen leaves turning. The crisp bite to the air.

But today, everything seemed sharper. More shadowy. As I pulled into the small parking lot at the campsite, I saw a host of vehicles. It looked like the local search and rescue team was assembling at one end. There were several Juniper County Sheriff’s Department vehicles as well, along with two Juniper County Crime Lab SUVs. Roger wasn’t messing around, and I was relieved to see it.

Pete was already parked, having passed me on the two-lane road leading to the campsite—as if it were some sort of competition. He could have at it. All I cared about was finding the missing woman.

I pulled into a spot at the very end of a row, hoping I wouldn’t get boxed in if additional vehicles showed up. I climbed out of my truck and grabbed my pack from the back of the cab, just in case. You never knew when you might need to pivot to a search.

My pack was always ready to go. Water. Energy bars and trail mix. First-aid kit. Emergency blanket. Sat phone. Bear spray. But my weapon never left my hip.

Slinging the pack over my shoulder, I headed toward the sound of voices. I found Roger and a deputy talking to a distraught man who looked to be in his mid-twenties. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving canyons behind. “It’s like she just vanished. How does that happen?”