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“I can’t get a read on the locations,” Owen said. “I’ve triangulated the lighthouses and where the victims lived and worked, and it’s scattered. It’s almost like he knows geographic pattern theory and is scrambling the system. There’s no pattern emerging. He’s literally all over the map, which makes no sense when he’s calculated and orderly.” Owen massaged his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“Take a break,” Asa said. “Go with Ty to the neighboring tattoo parlors and circulate the work. Every artist’s work has a signature or stamp. Maybe someone will recognize it.”
Violet’s eyes widened as she suddenly focused on her laptop screen.
“What?” Ty asked. “You don’t think Owen and I can investigate without supervision?” Ty was known to go rogue at times—like Fiona. And Owen was always down to get sideways if necessary. They weren’t line crossers, but none of them minded blurred lines except Asa.
“Not without wisecracks and complaints.”
“Found you when you went AWOL.”
“John found me.”
“We found you.”
She smirked, a sparkle in her eyes—which was new of late.
Owen slid on his tailored gray suit coat over a turquoise shirt and silver-and-turquoise tie. Ty gave him a hard time for dressing for church instead of the job. One could see their reflection in his dress shoes. All he was missing was a pocket square. His midnight eyes met Ty’s. “We got this.”
“Yeah, we do.”
Owen’s confidence happened to be genuine. Ty’s bravado was nothing short of false. Truth be told, this killer was under his skin and already doing exactly what he wanted—making Ty suffer.
Owen snagged the keys from the counter. “I’ll drive.”
“’Cause you specialize in geography?” Ty asked on the way downstairs to the ground level.
“No. Your driving makes me carsick. You’re all over the place.”
Ty snorted. “Whatever. I’m practicing for the job I actually want. NASCAR driver.”
Owen brayed like a donkey and unlocked the SUV’s doors with the fob. “Keep the day job. And I say that as your friend.” Owen entered the first address into the navigation system. “There are three tattoo parlors—do they still call them parlors?—in Blue Harbor.”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard studio. Or shop. Does it matter?” Owen and his random need for useless knowledge. Ty should download some knowledge that wasn’t useless. “O, I gotta tell you something. You asked if I was keeping anything from you, and I lied.”
“High time you come clean. I knew you were withholding information.”
Said like a justice seeker to a criminal. “I have a son.”
“What?” Owen did a double take. “I knew you been keeping something under your hat. Wasn’t expecting it to be a kid.”
“I didn’t know until I went to Bexley’s for the initial interview. He’s seventeen and doesn’t know about me. A son, Owen.”
Owen blew out a heavy breath. “Wow.” He beamed as he came to the stop sign. “So your mama does have a grandchild you didn’t know about. Remember that time she asked you about any kids? I remember because it made Asa laugh when he really needed one.”
Ty scoffed. “Shut up. For real though.” He told him everything he knew about Josiah, including his recent behavior. “I don’t think he was drunk, but I smelled beer on his breath when he got home. I had to stand there and say nothing.”
“Who else knows this?”
“Violet. Because, well, she’s Violet. I don’t want Asa to recuse me. I have to stick this out. Even with the stupid hurricane looming. I need you to know because... I’m gonna do whatever it takes to find this guy.”
Owen’s cheeks twitched. “I hear you. I feel you.” Reaching over, he clasped his shoulder. “Whatever it takes.” He tapped his chest with his fist, and Ty nodded. Owen would have his back no matter what. “What does Bexley say about his new behavior?”
“Teenage junk, but I don’t know. Something feels off. He’s overly angry, and I think it has to do with not knowing his father and feelings of abandonment. I sound like Violet.”
“You sound like you have a dad’s gut. If you think it’s more than teenage hormones, it probably is. Go with your gut. What do you think he’ll do when he finds out?”
“I don’t know. Bexley thinks he’ll try to find my family or if they discover him, they’ll track him down, which is true. But I’ve been in that house and talked with him and haven’t said a word. Me? I’d be fit to be tied and unleash some serious rage. Compounded with his already simmering anger...who knows what he’ll do? I don’t even know how to tell him.”
