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She shrugged one blazer-clad shoulder. “Did I say that out loud? Oops. But anyway, you asked.”
“I didn’t ask.”
And I wanted to stab myself for thinking of the wild, adventurous sex life I used to have. Especially when it led me to wonder if Vale was into a little kink. It seemed sacrilegious to even contemplate right now, and I definitely didn’t entertain the ideas or let them linger. I couldn’t. Not here and now with this particular file spread out between us.
Still, last night was the first I’d slept decently in five years, leading me to rise refreshed and feeling bulletproof this morning. Which was probably what had led me here to this moment—me thinking I was strong enough to face it today.
I couldn’t say it was a dreamless sleep, though. More disquieting, which made my exhilaration all the more confusing. In my dream-state, Melonie had morphed into Vale, the two of them appearing as one woman for a moment, before it was just Vale standing there. And I wondered if it had been Melonie saying goodbye, giving me permission or sending me a message.
“Felix, says it was a .22,” Anderson reported, pulling me back to the present as she got back to business. “And given the circumstances, I’m thinking… A Beretta. Specifically the M950. It’s semi-automatic, allowing this many shots in quick succession,” she said, studying one of the photos, but holding it so the image angled away from me. She chewed on the thumbnail of her free hand while she thought. “They’re notoriously quiet, without a suppressor, and they sound like a pellet gun. With copiers running, and the office’s sound-deadening panels overhead and all around for cubicles, I can almost believe no one noticed.”
I stared at her. “That’s more than anyone’s come up with in years.”
“Doesn’t get you anywhere,” she scoffed.
“Maybe. Maybe not. It answers questions, though. Gives a possibility.”
“Yeah, but what do we do with the hypothesis?” She lifted an eyebrow at me, but I had nothing. “Exactly,” she went one, gathering up all the papers we’d studied and slipping the pictures into the folder with them. “There’s nothing we can do. Officially. I’m taking this. I want to run some things past Felix, then I’ll give it back.”
“Okay,” I agreed as my phone vibrated. Despite the heaviness in the room, I smiled at seeing it was Vale. Just a few days ago, guilt would have poked me, but something had changed since last night—since being with her and talking and after that weird dream.
My smile faded when I read her text.
Vale: Were you expecting someone to your place?
Day: No.
Vale: A strange car pulled up and a guy went inside.
She sent a picture, clearly taken from her place, judging by the distance. Even so, I knew that vehicle.
I shot to my feet, scraping back my chair in my hurry.
Day: Lock the door and stay in your house.
I looked over at Anderson. “Someone just broke in my place.”
Only, break-in wasn’t strictly the right term since once upon a time, he’d had a key. And apparently, still did.
Thirteen
Vale
I watched from across the street, heart in my throat, ready to snap a picture of the man, Dutch Pritchard, leaving Dayton’s house. Why had he broken into over there? Five years ago, he’d been after Melonie and killed her. Did he think he’d find evidence at the house? How many times had he looked? I wanted to be sick when I considered him invading Dayton and Brennan’s sanctuary.
There was proof stashed away, but I doubted anyone would ever find it, if they hadn’t by now. Melonie had hidden it well, though she hadn’t known her stalker was Dutch, her husband’s partner.
It didn’t escape me that I was thinking of my previous self as another person. She was another person to me now. The same. Yet different. I didn’t try to work out those knots. It was too tangled and convoluted. I was Vale now, with the spark of Melonie inside me, with all her memories, hopes, dreams and recollections of who she’d loved.
But in the past five years, I’d become more. Grown. Evolved. Changed. Much like someone who’d entered witness protection might shift into a new existence, missing my old life, but daily morphing further into someone new. Possibly someone unrecognizable as who I’d been.
I was my constant fear. That I’d changed too much for Dayton to love. It was second only to the primal terror that Dutch would somehow figure out I knew what he’d done.
Why he’d done it was a constant mystery, though.
“What are you doing?” Kale asked, coming out of the kitchen behind me. In the window’s reflection, I could see he had a plate in his hand, with a partially eaten piece of cake on it. My brother… He was as bad as the rest of his club.
“Someone broke into Dayton’s house. I sent him a text.”
