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"But what?" Jake prompted, concern etching his features as he finally glanced at her.
She hesitated, feeling a strange sense of betrayal. One of her own—a man devoted to the study of insects—had fallen so far from grace. "He was fired," she said, her voice tight. "For sexually harassing a coworker."
Jake's jaw clenched visibly, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "That could be our guy then." His voice was low, a growl of anger at the injustice. "Gets fixated on women, can't handle rejection."
"Seems like it," Fiona agreed, though she knew they needed more than just a troubled past to make a case. She kept scrolling, seeking any fact that could tie Victor Harmon to Jamie Lin beyond the walls of the martial arts studio. Each swipe felt heavier than the last, each detail adding weight to the shadow that now loomed over their investigation.
"Anything else?" Jake asked, reaching out to start the car. The engine hummed to life, a soft vibration under their seats.
"Nothing yet," Fiona replied, her determination hardening. She wouldn't rest until every piece of Victor Harmon's life was laid bare, until they had enough evidence to put him behind bars—or clear his name. She owed that much to Jamie Lin, to Lena Chase, and to the silent plea for justice that echoed from every corner of the morgue back home.
Fiona scrolled past the termination notice, her eyes scanning for any hints of Victor's interests that might be relevant.
"Did he have a thing for spiders, maybe?" Jake asked, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel.
"Let me check." She tapped and swiped, the soft glow of the tablet screen illuminating her focused expression. Every article, every publication she found only reinforced what they already knew; Victor was fixated on butterflies, not spiders. "Nope, just butterflies," Fiona finally said. "He even published a paper on the migration patterns of Monarchs."
"Too bad," Jake muttered. "Would've been a nice link to the orb-weavers at our crime scenes."
"Maybe too neat," Fiona considered. The complexity of human nature rarely fit into tidy boxes, especially when it came to the tangled web of a killer's mind.
"Where's he working now?" Jake's question pulled Fiona back to the task at hand.
"Here we go," Fiona murmured as she located the current employment section in Victor's file. "He's managing a smoothie bar, just up the road from Jamie's studio."
"Healthy drinks, huh?" Jake's tone was speculative. "Jamie was fit, probably liked to grab a smoothie after training."
"Could be," Fiona conceded. The proximity wasn't proof, but it was a connection, another thread that could draw them closer to their suspect. "Lena might have been a customer there, too."
"Let’s pay this butterfly enthusiast a visit then." Jake shifted the car into drive, the engine responding with a low purr.
"Agreed." Fiona powered down the tablet, her mind already racing ahead. They needed to tread carefully, to observe Victor Harmon in his natural habitat. It was time to see if the former entomologist still had a taste for the predatory.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jake could feel the palpable shift as he and Fiona crossed the threshold of the smoothie bar. He glanced at her, noting the steely resolve that tightened her features. The air was thick with the scent of fresh fruit and buzzing conversation, a veneer of normalcy that didn't quite reach his senses. Patrons in workout gear lounged on brightly colored stools, their laughter hanging in the air like confetti.
They moved through the space, each step deliberate, a silent communication passing between them. This was it—their chance to corner a suspect, to peel back the layers of deceit. Jake's gaze fell upon Harmon, who stood behind the counter, a model of efficiency and poise. His hands deftly blended and poured a dance of muscle memory and practiced charm. It was almost hypnotic, the way his calm presence commanded the space.
Harmon's facade gave nothing away, each smile measured, every gesture controlled. But Jake knew better. Beneath that polished exterior could lurk a darkness they had seen too often—violence masquerading as tranquility. The juxtaposition gnawed at him, a reminder of his mother's unsolved murder, the injustice that fueled his relentless pursuit of the truth.
The sight of Harmon, so serene amid his blenders and organic produce, grated against the images imprinted in Jake's mind: two women, their lives brutally snatched away, surrounded by the delicate webs of spiders. The creatures had been out of place in those domestic scenes, just as this man seemed out of place here, behind the counter of a health oasis.
A tension began to build in Jake's chest, coiling tight like a spring. He felt an instinctive urge to confront, to shatter the peace with hard questions and demands for answers. Yet, he held back, allowing Fiona to take point, trusting her keen eye and sharper mind to guide them through this precarious engagement.
Their presence hadn't gone unnoticed. Whispers swirled around them, curiosity piqued by their determined approach, looking out of place in their professional attire. Jake's focus remained undivided, locked on Harmon, waiting for the moment when the façade would slip, when the suspect would reveal his true nature.
Jake watched as Fiona strode ahead, her red curls a fiery contrast to the sterile whites and greens of the smoothie bar. Her confidence was palpable, even from behind; she moved with an ease that belied her recent transition to fieldwork. He admired her for it—the way she could blend authority with a casual grace. It was a talent he recognized but had never quite mastered himself.
He followed, keeping his distance just enough to allow Fiona to command the space. His eyes remained fixed on Harmon, gauging the man's every twitch and turn. Jake's hand rested subtly near his badge, ready to present it at the right moment. The buzz of conversation around them began to quiet as they approached the counter.
"Victor Harmon?" Fiona's voice cut through the hum of blenders.
Harmon looked up, his professional smile faltering for just a second. "Yes, can I help you?"
"We're with the FBI," Fiona said, presenting her badge with a practiced flip.
Jake did the same, feeling the weight of the room shift. Eyes darted towards them, then quickly away, as if contact might draw unwanted attention.
