Let Her Run, page 3
All of the Tuckers had brown hair and brown eyes with warm palettes, truly fitting the stereotype of a picture-perfect family. Jake missed them every day. He and his dad and brother were still close, but things were never the same after his mom died.
He normally didn't take too many trips down memory lane, but lately, he'd been thinking a lot about his mom--and the man who killed her.
That man was never caught.
But when he found out that Fiona had been looking into her sister's disappearance and doing all sorts of detective work off the clock, it reminded him
He wished she'd confided in him about it all, but they hadn't had a chance to talk much since he came to help her at the pharmacy, arresting Marissa Johnson. She hadn't fully explained everything, and part of him knew it was because things were slightly awkward between them after their kiss. She'd mentioned that she'd broken up with Mark, her overbearing boyfriend, but they hadn't spent any time alone since they got back from their last case.
Still, Jake wasn't all that surprised to learn Fiona had been looking into her sister's disappearance. That girl had a strong head on her shoulders when she was determined.
He took another sip of his whiskey and let out a heavy sigh. There were so many cases like Fiona's sister Joslyn, so many missing people who never returned home. It was a sickening reality, one that Jake had dedicated his life to trying to solve.
He reached for his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Fiona's name. His thumb hesitated over the call button. He wanted to sit with her, to talk it all out and get up to speed, but part of him was hesitant. He couldn't deny that he had feelings for her, but he also knew that he had to keep things professional. Their job was too important to risk it all for a potential relationship, and he'd been down that road before with his last partner, Lauren Price. Their on-again, off-again romance had messed with Jake's head, and he didn't blame Lauren for getting transferred.
He couldn't make the same mistake with Fiona. Not unless he could truly commit, and vice versa.
He put his phone down, deciding not to call. When Fiona was ready to talk to him about her sister, he knew she would. He turned back to the photo album.
But as he flipped through the photo book, he couldn't help but think about all the families who had lost loved ones at the hands of serial killers. He knew the pain all too well, and he wanted to make sure that no one else had to experience that same level of heartache.
That's why he became an FBI agent. He wanted to make a difference and protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
He knew Fiona felt the same way, which made her a great candidate for becoming an official agent.
She had inspired him to start thinking about his mother's killer again.
He'd looked into him before, but all police and FBI leads led nowhere. Dead end after dead end.
But he had a feeling it was time to take another look. Maybe there was something they missed. He had a hunch that the killer was still out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike again. He couldn't let that happen. Then again, it had been fifteen years--maybe it already had.
Jake poured himself another glass of whiskey, trying to calm his nerves. He had to be careful. He couldn't let his personal vendetta cloud his judgment as an FBI agent. He had to work on the case with a clear head and a focused mind.
He took a deep breath, trying to push his emotions aside and focus on the facts. He needed to start from the beginning, to go over everything he knew about his mother's murder, and maybe he could find a new lead.
Jake took another sip of his whiskey and set the photobook aside.
Fiona was persistent in her quest for answers.
Maybe Jake could start doing the same thing.
***
A two-story home made of red brick spread before Fiona, its angled roof reaching into the early morning sky.
It had been a while since Fiona had visited her parents.
She stood on the lawn, damp blades of grass tickling her feet as a warm summer breeze blew in. It had been a few months since Fiona had seen her parents in person. She didn't want to get their hopes up, but this new information about Joslyn was something they deserved to know. She didn't want them to hear it from police officers or FBI personnel calling them--she had to tell them herself.
There was a chance that Joslyn was alive.
There was a chance they were going to find the man who took her.
After ten years with no leads on why her sister vanished from the beach that day, Fiona needed her parents to know, as difficult as it may be.
Although her parents owned and ran a funeral home, with her father being the mortician and her mother the funeral director, the house Fiona grew up in was lively and warm. She walked up to the front door and took a breath, preparing herself to knock.
Just as she was about to, the front door flew open, and her parents stood there with wide eyes and open arms.
"Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" her mother asked, pulling her in for a tight embrace. Fiona got her red hair from her mother, and she was swallowed by her curly, auburn locks that smelled of flowery perfume. For a moment, Fiona was frozen, accepting her mother's embrace. Her mom pulled away. "Did you want to get some breakfast? We weren't expecting you!"
Fiona swallowed, nerves building. But she had to explain why she was here, and she didn't want to beat around the bush.
"I...I have some news. About Joslyn," Fiona managed to say, her throat tight with emotion.
Her father's face fell, and he shook his head. Unlike Fiona's mother, her father had dark hair that reminded her more of Joslyn. He had kind blue eyes and a regal air about him that often made people surprised to know he was a mortician. "Please don't tell us that they found her body," he said quietly.
Fiona shook her head, a glimmer of hope in her heart. "No, they haven't found her yet. But I have a lead. And it's a good one."
Her parents exchanged a hopeful look, but Fiona could see the pain and sadness etched on their faces. They had been through so much, and the pain of losing a child never truly went away.
"What kind of lead?" her mother asked, her voice trembling.
"Maybe I could come in?" Fiona asked.
As Fiona entered the house, she was surrounded by a feeling of warmth and comfort. The walls were painted in soft colors, and the furniture was inviting and invitingly comfortable. On the walls were family photos: Fiona's parents, Joslyn, and other family members. Her parents motioned for her to enter the living room, where a plush couch was situated in front of an armchair in which Fiona perched herself.
"I've been doing some digging into Joslyn's case," Fiona began, her voice steady. "As you both know, I've been working more closely with the FBI lately."
"Which I don't love," her mother added. "It sounds far too dangerous."
"I agree, Fiona," her dad said. "You do such amazing work in a lab. I don't know why you want to step outside on cases with FBI agents when there are real stakes involved."
Fiona didn't expect them to understand. She loved her parents, but they had raised her safely. She was surrounded by death in the funeral home, yes, and they did encourage her Harvard education, but they seemed more than happy that Fiona had always been more quiet and studious.
Joslyn had been the wild one, the one with friends. She'd party and drink alcohol even though she was underage, and Fiona's parents struggled with it. Fiona, on the other hand, was the safe one.
And now she was training to become an FBI agent, working on real cases.
She'd shot a gun.
She'd nearly been killed multiple times.
But they didn't know the details of all of that, nor did they need to. Fiona would prove to her parents that she could be more than the lab girl, just as she was proving it to Jake and the rest of the FBI.
None of that mattered now. What mattered was Joslyn.
"Look, I don't want to get your hopes up," Fiona said, "but we found someone who claims to know the man who took her."
Her parents each sucked in sharp breaths, exchanging perplexed looks.
"What do you mean?" her dad asked. "Took her how?"
"Kidnapped her, abducted her," Fiona said. "But... according to this witness... she never saw him kill her."
Fiona's parents both leaned forward in their seats, their eyes fixed on Fiona.
"What do you mean?" her mother asked, her voice trembling.
"It's all still very preliminary," Fiona said, "but I think we're on to something."
Her father leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face. "We need to be careful, Fiona," he said. "We don't want to get our hopes up and then have them dashed again. We've been through enough. it's been ten years..."
Fiona nodded, understanding the fear in her father's voice. "I know, Dad," she said. "But we have to try. We have to keep pushing. We can't give up on Joslyn."
Her mother nodded, her eyes filled with tears, and Fiona's heart sank because it suddenly felt real. Maybe telling her parents so early was a mistake--what if they did find Joslyn, but it was only her body? Then again, Fiona's parents had raised her; she knew how strong they were and how badly they wanted answers. Whatever happened, she was sure they could handle it as a family.
Fiona took a deep breath and placed her hand on her mother's. "I promise I'll keep you both updated on everything."
Her mother nodded, her eyes fixed on Fiona's. "Thank you, sweetheart. We know how much you loved your sister, and we know how much it's been eating you up. It wears on us too."
As they sat in silence, Fiona couldn't help but think about the man who had taken Joslyn. She wondered what he looked like, what his motives were. She wondered if Joslyn was still alive and, if she was, what kind of life she had been living. The thought made her shiver. Marissa had refused to elaborate more, but Fiona believed her story, and she had to believe that Marissa would have a change of heart. They just had to keep working with her. By the sounds of it, she had been estranged from that monster for years, but part of her was still tethered to him.
They could change that. Fiona just had to get through to her as a woman.
Just then, Fiona's phone rang, breaking the silence. She took it out to see Jake's name across her screen. Her chest tingled at the thought of talking to him again--she knew it would be about work, although they hadn't spent much time together since their last case. She knew Jake had a lot of questions--about Marissa, about Fiona's sister, about the "work" she'd been doing on her own time. Fiona had wanted to confide in Jake earlier, but now it all felt awkward. She had just broken up with Mark, and she didn't want to give Jake the idea that she wanted to jump into a relationship with him instead.
Even if part of her did still want him and still thought about that kiss, they shared every night.
She figured it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. Jake had just broken up with Lauren, and things were tense.
"Good morning, Jake," Fiona said into the phone, turning away from her parents' curious gazes.
"Hey, Red," Jake said. His voice was groggy and tired. "Need you to meet me at HQ. We've got a case."
CHAPTER THREE
Fiona hurried toward the briefing room at HQ, eager to find out what they had next. She'd worked on several cases with Jake now, and although she didn't have her gun and badge, she was happy to know that the chief still wanted her in on cases. She knocked on the door, then poked her head in to see the chief behind his desk and Jake sitting across from him.
At the sight of Jake, Fiona's felt her throat close up. She appreciated that he'd helped her arrest Marissa, but there were still so many answers she hadn't given him.
"Ms. Red, good, come in," the chief said, and Fiona bowed into the room and into the chair next to Jake. He offered her a reassuring smile, to which she nodded, her cheeks aflame. "I was just explaining the case to Tucker here," the chief said. "We have one Sharon French, thirty-four, found dead in her Portland home by the plumber, who was on call to her house. When the witness arrived, the door was ajar, and the woman was unconscious. I guess the police thought it might have been a natural death at first until the autopsy came back." The chief's eyes hardened. "She was poisoned."
Fiona took a breath. Poison--what an awful way to go. She felt for Sharon, whoever she was, who had lost her life far too soon. Fiona was only twenty-six herself, and she certainly didn't want to envision losing her life in her thirties. It was far too soon.
"This is the second victim to be found dead from some sort of apparent poison," the chief went on, "so we've been brought in, especially due to the seemingly random nature of these crimes. We have one male, fifties, named Glen Hartwell--he was our first. Then, a week later, Sharon French, thirties. No obvious connection, but that's something for you two to find out."
Fiona's mind raced, already trying to piece together the little bits of information they had. Two victims, both poisoned, both seemingly random. It could be a tough case, but she and Jake had tackled tougher.
"Do we know what they were poisoned with?" Fiona asked.
"That's the thing," the chief said, "there were physical signs that the coroner believes line up with a poisoning, but whatever it is, it's been difficult to identify. Red, preliminary toxicology came up short, so I’d like you on this one with Tucker. We're waiting on further lab results to see if we can get some concrete answers, but I trust you two to get to the bottom of this and fast."
Fiona nodded, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with fear. She didn't want to let the chief down, especially not after how much he was helping with Marissa. More than that, Fiona hated the idea of seeing more people lose their lives just because she wasn't fast enough to solve it.
"We'll get on it, Chief," Jake said, his voice confident.
The chief nodded, his gaze steady on the two of them. "I know you will, Red," he said, his tone firm. "But I want you to be careful. This case is tricky, and I don't want either of you getting hurt. Got it?"
Fiona and Jake both nodded and with that, they were out the door, ready to get to work.
As they walked through the halls of the FBI building, Fiona couldn't help but feel the familiar rush of adrenaline. Solving cases, cracking codes, catching bad guys--it was what she was born to do.
But this case felt different.
As they stepped into the elevator, Fiona turned to Jake, her eyes narrowing. "Two victims, both seemingly poisoned with a difficult-to-identify agent," she said. "What do you think we're dealing with?"
Jake didn't hesitate. "Someone who knows what they're doing," he said. "Who has access to poison and likes to play it safe? Someone who doesn't want to get their hands dirty."
Fiona nodded, impressed. Jake always had a way of seeing through the fog and getting to the heart of a case. "Could be a professional," she said. "Or someone with a background in chemistry, maybe a disgruntled ex-employee of a chemical company."
"Or someone who just likes to kill," Jake added, his tone grim.
Fiona shivered, the thought of a psychopath on the loose making her uneasy. "Let's hope for the former, but be prepared for the latter," she said.
"Agreed. For now, we need to see this crime scene."
***
Something about this case left a bad feeling in Jake's gut--maybe the domestic nature of it or the fact that as he drove toward Sharon French's house, the neighborhood reminded him of his own.
Fiona was in the passenger seat, reading the reports so Jake could focus on driving.
"Sharon lived alone and had no children," she explained. "Although, she did have an ex-fiancé who moved out within the last year."
"Ex-fiancé, huh?" Jake mused. "We'll have to look into him, but considering we've got another victim, he might not have anything to do with it."
Fiona nodded, flipping through the files. "And Glen Hartwell tells a very different story. He was married and had three children, all of whom were not home the day he was found dead." Fiona's eyes became downcast. "His wife was the one who found him."
Jake's heart sank, imagining the situation his poor family was in. It was a situation he knew too well. Picking up the pieces after a loss like that was near impossible.
"There don't appear to be any immediate connections between them," Fiona explained. "They lived in different areas, worked in different fields, and didn't seem to frequent any of the same places. They were strangers."
"It sounds that way," Jake said. "There might be something else connecting them, something we haven't figured out yet."
As Jake drove, he stole a glance at Fiona as she continued to read through the files. She seemed quiet, her mind preoccupied. He wondered if it was about her recent breakup, but then again, he was pretty sure her missing sister was more important.
It was still awkward for him that they hadn't discussed it. All the details he had about who Marissa was and who Joslyn was, had come from Chief Whittaker.
"Hey, Red?" Jake tentatively said. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but he wanted to clear the air. "I've gotta ask, why didn't you tell me about your sister?"
Fiona's face flushed, and she turned to the window as Jake geared around a corner, navigating the suburban playground that was this neighborhood.
"I wanted to," she murmured. "I wanted to ask for your help with Joslyn so many times, but it didn't feel right. I mean, her case was cold, and I have no authority to look into a crime like that as anything more than a concerned sister and citizen."
"But you still called me when you found out Marissa was involved," he said. "Why?"
"I knew you'd know what to do, that's all," she said quietly. "I should have told you more then. I owe you more explanations."
"It's okay," he quickly said. The last thing he wanted was to pressure her. "I figure we can talk about your sister when you're ready. I'm just glad you trusted me enough to call me."
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