9

Lauren Mallory worked at Duffy's Irish Pub, a trashy little place on Northwest Dupont Circle. The outside of the building was brick but had been painted black and was trimmed in bright red paint. There was a small outdoor patio on the side with a handful of tables covered by umbrellas.

Bella gave Edward a look before he pulled the front door open and walked inside. Unlike the outside of the building, the walls inside were painted neon green. There were a dozen dark oak tables and a long bar on the left side of the room that stretched to the back of the room. Behind the bar were dozens of glass shelves covered in liquor bottles and expensive champagne.

"We're closed."

Bella's attention was drawn to a tall, thin, dark-haired man with bright blue eyes — eyes laden with heavy, dark circles beneath them.

Just then, Bella's phone chimed with yet another text she knew was from her father. He'd already sent six, each one in response to hers. He was filled with excuses, of course, but she was tired of explanations and bullshit. He and his team had kept pertinent information about Lauren Mallory a secret to lure her back into the game. She had been nothing more than a pawn to them, which was unforgivable.

"You Tyler Crowley?" Bella asked, clearing her throat. Of course, she already knew who he was, but there were rules in polite society.

"I am. Who are you?"

"Agent Swan. I'm with the —"

"FBI. Of course you are," Tyler scoffed, tossing his towel over his shoulder. "You find her yet?"

She tilted her head to the side. "No."

"Then maybe you should leave and go find her. Isn't that your job? To find women like Lauren?"

"Yes."

"Then why haven't you found her yet?" he asked, the desperation in his voice clear as day. He pulled a chair out and sat. "He's torturing her. You know that, don't you?"

"We do." Bella sat in front of him, crossing her legs. "Tell me about her."

"I've already told them all about her," he grumbled, leaning forward, placing his hands on his knees. "Don't you people talk?"

"I know what you told them, but I want to hear it from you. How'd you meet her?"

Tyler smiled. "I met Lauren on our first day of student orientation at Howard. She was coming out of the bookstore, and I was going in. It was crazy busy, and she bumped into me, knocking me to the floor. She stammered out an apology and helped me back up. The second our hands touched, I knew I wanted . . . No, needed to know her. I asked her to have coffee with me because, at eighteen, I thought coffee was what all adults did on dates," he scoffed, but his smile grew. "She shook her head and said coffee was disgusting but suggested we go for milkshakes instead. I mean, I wasn't going to refuse the chance to spend time with her, so we went and got milkshakes. She got peanut butter, I got vanilla, and we sat and talked for hours. I'd never felt so . . . at ease with a girl before."

He looked away, and Bella suspected he was trying to keep from crying in front of her. "She and I, we just . . . we just never stopped hanging out, you know? She became my whole fucking world, everything I was looking for, and for some reason, she loved me back." Tyler shifted his eyes to her. "Have you talked to her parents?"

"We did," Edward said, pulling a chair over and sitting next to Bella. "They said she was funny, smart, and caring."

"Of course they did," he groused. "They were right. She is all those things, but she's so much more. She . . . she worked her ass off to get her scholarship to Howard's. It wasn't easy, either. She worked two jobs in high school because her dad is an alcoholic who can't keep a job longer than six months, and her mom refuses to work at all because in her world, women shouldn't have to. So Lauren paid the rent and utilities and brought groceries so they wouldn't starve to death. Then, at school, she was told by the majority of her teachers that she would never make anything of herself because she came from white trash, and she would always be just white trash. She was determined to prove them wrong, all of them wrong, so you have to save her. You have to!"

Bella frowned. "I have to ask a personal question, so please forgive me, but it is important."

"Just ask already."

"Were you and Lauren sexually active?"

Tyler's eyes widened. "Why does that matter?"

"I just need to know."

Tyler grabbed the back of his neck. "No. Lauren . . . Lauren wanted to wait until we were married. She . . . When she was five, she was molested by her babysitter's boyfriend. Her parents didn't believe her, and, well, she has trust issues."

"Is that why the two of you broke up?" Bella asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Who told you we had broken up?"

"Her parents," Edward replied, and Tyler tipped his head back and laughed. "Why is that funny?"

"It's not, man. It just fucking figures." Tyler stood. "Her parents hated me because I told them to suck my dick when they kept begging her to send them money. Lauren worked sixty hours a damn week while taking almost twenty hours a semester. When they called relentlessly with sob stories about needing money for rent and bills, she would have it to send. She was killing herself for them, and I'd had enough. I told them to grow the fuck up and start taking care of themselves. Lauren got pissed, and she broke up with me. Lasted all of a week before she showed up on my doorstep in fucking tears because, once again, her parents called asking for money. When she refused to give them any because she needed it for her own rent, her father called her a selfish, ungrateful bitch who needed to get over herself and do the right thing. Do the right thing! It wasn't her job to take care of them, for Christ's sake! And she told them as much. That was a month before she was kidnapped, and she hadn't spoken to them since. Lauren and I . . . She's the love of my life, Agent Swan."

Bella nodded and stood. "We're not giving up, Tyler. I . . . I promise you, we are not giving up."

"But time is running out, isn't it? The other girls he took, he . . . he didn't keep them more than a couple weeks, at most, did he?"

"No, he didn't."

"Lauren's been gone eight days, Agent Swan. Eight days."

"I know, and I wish I could promise you we'll find her alive, but I'm not going to lie to you, Tyler."

Falling back into his chair, he buried his face in his hands, the sound of him crying echoing throughout the empty pub. Bella motioned for Edward to follow her outside. The second the door closed behind them, she clenched her hands into tight fists and stifled the urge to scream.

Edward reached over, placing his hand on her shoulder, and she looked at him, shrugging off his hand and stepping away. "I told you not to touch me."

"Are you okay?"

"No, Masen, I am not okay. I am so far from being okay right now. That girl . . . He picks girls he knows are vulnerable and fragile. He's . . ." Bella shook her head, raising her clenched fists in front of her. "I'm sorry. I just . . . I don't know how to get ahead of him, Masen. I just . . . I just don't know."

"Well, I was thinking . . ." He paused. "If we missed something like a note where Gianna Roman's was found, who's to say we didn't miss something where we found Chelsea Sanchez?"

Bella turned her head to the side. "You're almost starting to sound like you know what you're talking about, Masen."

"I mean, I'm not an idiot."

"No, you're not, but you let them treat you like you're one because you don't want to make waves." She stepped closer. "Make waves, Masen. They're waiting for you to step up and tell them to fuck off, yet you keep letting them push you around. Why?"

"Because I haven't learned enough to be treated differently yet."

"Bullshit," she said, pressing her index finger against the middle of his chest. "If you weren't good enough, he wouldn't have brought you onto his team. You don't owe him, or any of the rest of them, anything."

"I know I don't."

"You sure about that?" she asked. But instead of letting him reply, she turned and climbed into her truck.

Edward followed, and when she started the engine, he reached over and turned up the radio, giving her a look before putting his seatbelt on and shifting his attention out the window.

—^—

Unlike Gianna Romans, Chelsea Sanchez's body had been found next to a dumpster behinda Dollar General on 84th and Grand Avenue in the early morning hours. When trash collectors rolled down the alley to empty the dumpsters, the man in the passenger seat, whose name was Alec Thomas, just happened to look back as the dumpster was raised above the trash truck and saw her body.

He yelled for his partner to stop and proceeded to leap out of the truck and check for a pulse. Of course, there wasn't one. Chelsea Sanchez was naked, her palms covering her breasts, but her eyes were opened. Blood vessels had popped, making the medical examiner believe she'd been strangled to death. But her autopsy showed she'd been strangled and revived at least five times in the days leading to her death. The actual cause had been internal bleeding from one of the many beatings she'd endured in the fourteen days she was missing. Fourteen days of pure and utter hell, Bella knew. Like his other victims, he'd sexually assaulted her multiple times, burned her fingerprints off with acid, cut off both her big toes, and sliced through her Achilles tendons. Chelsea Sanchez never stood a chance against Phillip Dwyer.

When Bella parked at the opening of the alley, she stayed still. "Tell me what you saw."

"When I saw what?"

"When you arrived on the scene, what did you see? Describe it to me in as many details as you can."

"Oh, um, okay." Edward cleared his throat before speaking. "We parked on the other side of the alley because patrol cars had this side blocked."

"To preserve the scene," she murmured, closing her eyes. "Keep going."

"Local PD had already quarantined her body, but they hadn't moved her. Medical Examiner was taking pictures when we came up."

"What about the area around her body? Was there a lot of trash?"

"No, actually. The ground was completely cleared of any trash. In fact, it looked like someone had power-washed the cement before laying her on the ground."

"What makes you think that?" she asked, shifting in her seat so she was facing him.

"The ground was wet beneath her. It hadn't rained, and the rest of the alley was dry."

"Any chemicals found on the ground?"

"Bleach."

"So he cleaned her final resting place. Wanted to make sure she was taken care of," Bella murmured.

"And before you ask, the security cameras went down earlier that afternoon. We didn't get any footage of him leaving her body."

"What time does the store close?"

"Ten p.m. Manager tossed the last of the trash at half past and said her body wasn't there when he came out. Dumpsters were emptied every Tuesday and Friday by five a.m. On the Tuesday in question, the truck was clocked here at exactly four fifty-eight in the morning."

"What about the building? Was there anything that stood out?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so. There was some graffiti. Gang tags, I think."

"You think? You don't know for sure?"

"I mean, we asked local PD if they looked familiar. They said no, but that they change all the time," Edward rambled. "Why? Do you think they were important?"

"Why . . ." Bella shook her head. "I almost asked a stupid question. He told you not to put them in her file."

"I don't know. I just dictated the notes."

"And you didn't question that lack of detail regarding the dump site? Are you really that stupid, Masen?"

"No! I mean, yes, I didquestion it, but they weren't my notes."

"So?"

"So, I assumed they had compiled them elsewhere."

"Elsewhere? Like where exactly? Up their ass? You do realize that while they were playing their little games, they had the chance to save Gianna Romans, don't you? But instead, they kept their secrets because they knew I would take the bait."

"I guess."

She nodded and looked back at the dumpster. "Tell me what the graffiti looked like."

"Um, the one that stood out the most was of two masks. One with a smile and the other with a frown. They were connected at the chin, and under the mask were the letters P, A, A, the number two, and then an F. All capitalized."

Bella scoffed. "Y'all really are dumb as shit, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Where does Lauren Mallory live, Masen?"

"You know where she lives. We were just at her apartment."

"No shit," she quipped. "Tell me where she lives."

"She lives in the Palo Alto Apartments." His eyes widened as he said, "Apartment 2F."

"Yes, that's right."

"Oh, heck."

Bella snorted. "Heck, really? This doesn't even warrant at least a hell no?"

Edward pressed his lips together. "Maybe it does, but it doesn't mean I have to say it."

"Wow, okay. He told us that Lauren Mallory was going to be after Gianna, which means he probably told us who he plans to snatch up after her."

"Does that mean the note he left? About Gianna being number six, I mean?"

"No, no, we still have a body out there somewhere," she said with a sigh. "Who is she, though?"

And to that, Edward didn't have a response.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! And a HUGE shout out to Sunflower Fran for being an amazing Beta. I keep her busy, y'all, and she never makes me feel like a pest. See you next Monday!