Page 79 of Fatal Pattern

The car ahead of them ordered three lattes and a breakfast sandwich. She watched the exhaust from their tailpipe curl into the humidity. The world was moving on. People were buying breakfast while she and Blade were chasing down a murderer who kept a gallery of death.

The smell of coffee hit before the cup did. Blade handed her a cup. The heat through the cardboard sleeve stung her palms. She welcomed the bite of it.

“I think our next stop is the art gallery,” she said as Blade pulled away from the window. The coffee was hot and strong, just how she liked it. “We figure out who the artist is. The drive gives us an hour to work.”

Blade nodded, merging back into traffic. “Agreed. But first, we need to bring the FBI in. See if they’ll approve you as our consulting behavioral analyst.”

“If they agree, I’ll clear it with my supervisor.”

“When we catch this guy, it’ll be the best research sabbatical in the history of sabbaticals.” He pulled out his phone, putting it on speaker as he dialed.

One visit to the prison. That’s all the field research for her book was supposed to be. She hadn’t expected the prison visit with Damien to be anything other than a mind game. Boy, was it.

She looked at her reflection in the window. Her hair was frizzy from the humidity, and her eyes looked sunken. She looked like a woman who spent too much time drinking coffee just to buy more hours in the day.

The call connected after two rings. “Agent Wells.”

“Sebastian, it’s Blade St. James. Mind if I put this on speaker? Dr. Tori Crew is with me. She’s been consulting on this case.”

“Not at all. What’s up?”

“While running down a lead that spun out of the Florek homicide, we may have stumbled into a serial. Still too early to tell.”

“Outstanding work, Blade.” Sebastian’s voice carried genuine warmth, the sound of someone pleased to hear from a colleague. “How can I help?”

Tori sipped her coffee, studying Blade’s careful phrasing. He was holding his cards close.

“At the moment, we’re holding steady. We’ll loop you in once she’s verified a serial pattern.”

“Brilliant idea. I’ve heard of Dr. Crew. She’s a fantastic consultant. Wish we had her on our team.”

Tori rolled her eyes. They were always saying that, but spotting a unicorn on I-95 had better odds than landing a Behavioral Analysis Unit position. Besides, she’d never leave Florida. This was home. Blade, the beaches, her chosen family.

“Okay, Blade, keep me in the loop. If you need federal resources, you call me first. I’m there for you. We’ll keep the circle small.”

Blade agreed and disconnected.

Tori smiled. “Well, that went well.”

An hour later, they parked across the street from the Gallery Showcase, the late afternoon sun glinting off its glass facade.

Tori stepped into the Gallery Showcase and felt the temperature drop ten degrees. The space stretched before them like an aircraft hangar painted white, every surface gleaming under track lighting that could illuminate surgery.

The current exhibit dominated the walls—black and white portraits blown up to massive scale. A grandmother’s weathered hands filled one frame, each line and callus rendered in sharp detail. A teenager’s pierced face took up another entire wall.

“Interesting,” she murmured, studying a portrait of a construction worker whose smile revealed a gold tooth. The photographer had captured something raw and honest in each face. Real.

Nothing like the violence hidden in those law firm paintings.

A woman approached from the back of the gallery, her heels clicking against polished concrete. Sleeveless hot pink dress, perfectly styled dark hair, the kind of composed elegance that Tori expected in an art gallery.

“Welcome to Gallery Showcase. I’m Laelanie Ferreira.”

Blade stepped forward with an easy smile. “I’m Blade, and this is my girlfriend, Tori.”

Tori blinked. Girlfriend? She recovered quickly, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm and leaning against his shoulder. The gesture felt surprisingly natural.

“We’re interested in meeting an artist,” Blade continued. “Tori’s really into abstract work.”