Page 22 of Spitfire

"The second one? Is his role only to do clean-up? It didn't seem like Ashmaker was even aware they were there." I rub at my tired eyes, a wave of exhaustion permeating through me. This fucking case is going to be the end of me. If we don't manage to stop and catch these two, my career will go up in smoke.

"I don't think Ashmaker is aware that he has a fan. The second one hides himself from him, but ensures that Ashmaker doesn't leave any evidence behind to be caught. There's a sense of duty and adoration for what he's doing. Like he's a disciple of Ashmaker's." She blows out a frustrated sigh and meets my gaze, and I can see the heaviness she's been carrying all this time alone. "I'm no longer even sure if all the kills can be attributed solely to Ashmaker, Jasper. I think the second one is out copying his crimes to throw us off the scent, and keeping us busy so that Ashmaker can achieve whatever sick goal they have in mind."

I work rapidly through the various points she's made, my mind circling with new possibilities. "So... you think the victims were rapists and pedophiles, and Ashmaker is distributing justice? Why is he out here doing that? Why not just lead the police to them and their crimes?"

"Rapists, pedophiles, abusers, the worst humanity has to offer. I think Ashmaker is making them pay for their crimes. The ones we've not seen attributed to them either, because they were never reported, or were swept under the rug. The ones the law failed to serve proper justice on. He's out cleansing the world of their sins, and he won't stop until he's reached a pinnacle."

"A pinnacle?" I question with concern.

"Until he either kills them all, or we kill him trying to capture him."

"Well, shit, Scarlett, you really know how to kill a mood." I groan as I quickly reach for my phone and pull up our team chat.

"What the hell are you doing?" She moves closer, the heat emanating from her small frame, an enticement I have no time to indulge in.

"Instructing the team to do full background checks on the victims, their families, and any possibility that they have assaulted anyone. If there's dirt on them, we're going to fucking find it, and then we'll catch these two self-righteous assholes, and put them behind bars. No one gets to take the law into their hands and serve unsanctioned justice, regardless of the crimes."

I notice she doesn't contradict me, but she also doesn't agree with me. There's more to this story, and she's still keeping secrets, but I know I'm about to enjoy prying them from her one at a time, until she's laid bare for me, both figuratively and physically, and then I'm going to gorge myself on her until I've had my fill.

"Let's go, little vixen, we have psychos to catch."

SIXTEEN

SCARLETT

"We've been going over these files for hours, Scarlett. Maybe we need to take a break?" Jasper questions, his sapphire eyes watching my every move. There's an intensity radiating off him now, since our interaction in the car, that wasn't there before. It almost feels like possessiveness, but that can't be accurate, right? I'm allowing my emotions to interfere, and steal my focus, and that has to stop.

I stare up at the board in front of us, the one now labeled with each of our victims, and all the gritty details we've been able to discover about them since deep-diving into their actions before their murders. Like the fact that Simon, our eighth victim, had a rape charge dismissed two years ago when the victim suddenly withdrew the charge, or the fact that George Weston has settled a lawsuit out of the prying eyes of the public, for suspected child abuse over five years ago. I have no doubt now that there will be commonality amongst the rest of them; we just have to find what it is. My hunch was right, and it both brings me a sense of elation and dismay at realizing these men hurt women and children, and Ashmaker is out here serving the justice that failed them.

It almost makes me want to delay finding him, and allowing him to rid the world of more of these monsters. As a member of law enforcement, I know that's wrong. No one is above the law, and vigilante justice shouldn't be condoned. Yet in the same token, I know how many of these cases go, and the victims rarely see justice under our current system, and more often than not, the predators get away with just a slap on the wrist, if anything at all.

The unfairness of it has always been a driving force for why I went into law enforcement, especially after my own lived experiences. I want to ensure the victims have someone on their side who would move heaven and earth to get them the justice they deserve.

"What a pretty girl you are, all that dark hair. Don't you want to make your new daddy happy, girlie? Come here and sit on my lap."

The memory breaks through all the barriers I've spent years erecting.

I'm instantly back in the damp, dingy sitting room, with the peeling wallpaper, cloying cigarette smoke, and the smell of cat urine mixed with desperation. Beads of sweat trail down my young neck as I quickly back myself into a corner to avoid touching him, yet I know it's no use, it never is. All the foster homes have been the same, except for one, and she was a different type of monster. You would think I was used to it by now, but how does one get used to living in hell?

My panicked eyes search for a way out, for anything that I can use to stop him, but I come up blank. "Stay... stay away from me!" I croak, tears slipping down my face as my chest tightens with panic.

"Now is that any way to talk to your new father, girl?! If it wasn't for my generosity, you'd be out on the fucking street like the worthless rat you are." His ruddy, sweaty face darkens to a deep maroon with anger as his beady, green eyes narrow. I take in all the nasty stains on his shirt, and the stench of his sweat fills my nostrils, until I can't take a clean breath of air that isn't filled with him. I watch with apprehension as he reaches for his brown leather belt, his meaty fingers unthreading it from his pants with unhurried momentum. He knows I have nowhere to go, and no way of escaping him. "You should be thanking me for taking you in, and I have the perfect way you can do that."

"Please..." I beg in desperation, my voice breaking with the sobs that threaten to choke me. His smirk is dark and filled with malice as he takes a step closer to me. Great shuddering gasps begin to wrack through my frame, as I try to make myself as small a target as possible, when the belt lashes through the air and lands on my exposed skin. The pain is instant and sharp, as my skin heats, turning my arm red. I grit my teeth, balling my hands into fists and wishing, not for the first time, that I was stronger and braver. That somehow I could fight back. Maybe if I were a boy, things would be different. Then I wouldn't constantly be the target in all of these foster homes.

The belt sails through the air again, this time catching me in the shoulder, and I can't swallow the scream as it's ripped out of me. He doesn't hesitate with the next lash, and I feel my control over my bladder releasing, and wetness beneath me, soaking my legs. "No! Please! Stop!"

"Dirty fucking whore! Look at the mess you've made! You'll pay for that!" He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of my dark, tangled hair, dragging me toward him, as I scramble not to slip in the mess I've made. "Clean that fucking up! Strip and use your dress!"

"Please..." I beg, but I know it's useless. He won't let me go until I obey him, and this won't end unless he gets what he wants from me. It's always a lose-lose battle, and all it ever does is add to the pain and nightmares that plague me.

Go to your happy place, my mind whispers. It will be over quicker if you just do what he wants.

I can't... I won't.

There's no escape from this, Scarlett. You just have to survive.

The corner table catches my eye, a plume of smoke rising from an abandoned cigarette, and I wonder if he's going to use that to burn me, like my last foster mother. I reach for the hem of my wet, threadbare dress and pull it off me, my skin instantly prickling with goosebumps. I clutch it in my small, weak hands, still trying to hide my nakedness, as I glance with terror at him from the corner of my eye. He's breathing heavily now, his chest and protruding belly rising and falling with intensity.