Till Death(75)

Myers cocked his head to the side. “So, you barely knew her, but she’s dead and her finger—”

The door swung open with force and suddenly Cole was storming into the room, his eyes like glacial ice. Relief poured into me.

“What the fuck?” Cole demanded, walking around the table.

Rodriquez leaned back in the chair, dropping his pen on the table as Myers rose. “This is not even your department, Landis. You have no reason to be in on this interview.”

“Doesn’t have anything to do with me?” He stopped in front of Tyron’s empty chair and planted a fist on the table. “You haul my woman into the damn police station to question her about a murder she just found out about?”

Myers’ face flushed with anger. “It’s protocol, and you damn well know that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck if it’s protocol or not, you have my number, you should’ve called me,” Cole fired back, straightening. “I know how you work, Myers. That shit isn’t going to happen here.”

“Oh, you know how I work?” Myers snorted. “How about you go—”

“Finish that sentence and that’s the last thing you’ll be doing with your mouth for a while,” Cole warned.

“All right. Everyone chill the hell out.” Tyron appeared in the doorway. Over his shoulders, I saw a couple of blue uniforms. “No one needs this shit right now.”

Cole drew in a deep breath as he pinned a stare on his friend. “This shouldn’t have happened this way. You know that.”

“And that’s why I called you the moment I knew they were heading to talk to her,” Tyron responded.

“Fucking A,” muttered Myers, sitting back down.

Surprised, I glanced up at Cole, but he was still eyeballing Myers like he wanted to put him through the wall. I was sensing there was definitely a past between the two of them that was not friendly. Cole had to have sped like a demon to get from Baltimore to here.

Rodriquez lifted his chin. “You know we had to talk to her.”

“And you know what she’s been through,” Cole shot back. “You do not pull her into the station like she’s a damn suspect.”

Myers pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s connected to this. You know that. I know that.”

My stomach dropped, and even though I’d figured that out the moment they told me that they believed the severed finger belonged to Angela, I’d had literally no time to process this.

“We need to find out what the connection is,” Rodriquez said, voice carefully even. “That’s why we’re talking to her.”

“You don’t do it this way,” Cole responded. He turned to me, his hand curving around the nape of my neck. Our eyes met, and it was the first time he’d looked at me since bursting into the room. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, because I figured saying something other than that would not be wise in the moment.

His eyes searched mine for a moment and then he looked over at Rodriquez. “Do you all need anything else from her?”

He shook his head. “We pretty much got what we need.”

“Which isn’t much,” snapped Myers.

A muscle flexed along Cole’s jaw and he opened his mouth to respond, but I beat him to it. “If I can be of any help, I will be. I’ve told you everything I know, and if that hasn’t been of any help, then I’m sorry.”

“So, nothing else?” Cole asked, tone hard as he slid his hand to my shoulder. When they didn’t answer, he said, “Let me get you out of here.”

Glancing at the agents, I grabbed my purse off the floor and stood. Tyron moved out of the doorway as Cole folded me into his side. We walked out of the room, and into the narrow hall.

Cole’s arm around my shoulders tightened as we walked toward the back door. Tyron followed us out into the fading afternoon sun.

“Hold on a sec,” Tyron said, waiting for us to stop. He glanced at Cole and then looked down at me. “I’m sorry that they pulled you in there. That conversation could’ve happened at the inn.”

I folded my arms across my stomach. “It’s over. It’s whatever, but . . . someone really is copying the Groom, aren’t they? That’s what’s happening here.”

Tyron placed his hands on his hips. Wind stirred the white dress shirt he wore. “We aren’t a hundred percent sure yet.”

Cursing under his breath, Cole lifted his gaze to the sky. “What else would be going down? Someone out there is following in that dead son of a bitch’s footsteps. And you and I both know what’s coming next.”

Tyron didn’t respond, but he knew. So did I. If there was someone out there copying the Groom then that meant . . . that it was already too late for the next victim.

Because if this person knew enough about the Groom and was following the Groom’s pathology, then the next victim was already taken.

*

The woman had no idea why it was her, why she was here in this cold place that smelled of dirt and death. Angela had known. She’d known the moment she’d opened those pretty eyes and seen where she was.

Angela had cried.

She’d begged.

Like they all did, and there was nothing wrong with that. If they hadn’t pleaded for their lives, then what life did they have?