Chapter 5 FIVE

BLAIRE

He knew about the Red Dress kidnapping case.

The thought followed me long after Cole or whatever the handsome man’s name was  walked out of my office, refusing to settle no matter how many times I tried to make sense of what he'd just told me. 

Military Intelligence. 

A second classified report. 

Someone who had access to it had died, and somehow, all of those pieces had led Cole Hastings straight to me. I couldn't decide which part bothered me more—the fact that he knew about the case or the unsettling certainty in his voice when he told me he was going to uncover the truth whether I wanted him to or not.

What the hell had just happened?

I remained behind my desk for another few moments, staring at the door he'd disappeared through as though I expected him to walk back in and explain why a man I'd met for the first time at a wedding had suddenly appeared in my office with questions about the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

The longer I sat there, the smaller the office seemed to become.

I pushed my chair back and stood, needing to move, needing to feel like I had some control over my surroundings again. 

I walked toward the windows and pulled the curtains open, letting the afternoon light flood into the room before opening another one and then another. The air-conditioning was running, yet I still felt strangely suffocated.

I drew in a slow breath and reached for my phone.

There was only one person I could think of calling.

Rita.

If Cole was at the wedding, then there was a good chance she knew him well enough to tell me what kind of man I'd just allowed into my office. More importantly, she might know why someone with his background had suddenly taken an interest in a three-year-old kidnapping case that had already been buried beneath enough paperwork to make most people stop looking.

I found her number and pressed call.

She answered on the third ring.

"Hi, babe!"

Her cheerful voice sounded so normal that, for a moment, I envied her.

"Hey."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"Good. Still recovering from the wedding, honestly." She laughed. "And before you say anything, thank you again for coming. It meant so much to me that you actually showed up."

I leaned against the edge of my desk, a small smile tugging at my lips.

"Oh, it's nothing. You were a really good host."

"A really good host?"

"Yes."

"That's all I get after spending an obscene amount of money on that wedding?"

I laughed despite myself.

"Fine. You were an excellent host."

"Better."

The smile remained for another second before I remembered why I'd called.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead. Shoot."

I hesitated, suddenly unsure of how to describe him without making the whole thing sound stranger than it already was.

"I saw a man at your wedding."

There was a brief pause.

"What man?"

"A tall one. Muscular. Lots of tattoos."

"Oh."

Something changed in her voice so subtly that another person might have missed it, but I caught it immediately. I reached for the jotter on my desk and flipped through the pages until I found the name I'd written down earlier.

"It starts with a C..."

"Cole?" she asked.

I looked down at the page.

"Cole Hastings?"

"Exactly."

Rita took a slow breath.

"Why are you asking about Cole?"

I straightened.

"You know him?"

"Yes."

The answer came so quickly that my suspicion sharpened.

"How?"

"He served in the military with Daniel."

I frowned.

"Daniel never mentioned him."

"That's because Cole wasn't around for very long before he was transferred."

"Transferred where?"

There was another pause.

"Military Intelligence."

My entire body went still.

The words I'd heard in my office only minutes earlier came rushing back with a force that made my fingers tighten around the phone.

"Military Intelligence?" I repeated.

"Yeah."

Rita's voice softened.

"Cole went through a lot. He lost most of the men in his squad, and after that, things changed for him. He was transferred to Intelligence, and I don't think he ever really recovered from what happened."

My eyes drifted toward the window.

"That's why he has all those name tattoos?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "He had their names tattooed on his body. All of them."

I was quiet for a moment.

For the first time since meeting him, I found myself wondering about the man underneath all that confidence. 

At the wedding, I'd noticed the tattoos before I'd noticed anything else, and then I'd noticed the way he watched people, the way he seemed to take in everything around him without ever appearing distracted. I'd assumed it was arrogance.

Maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it was simply what happened when someone had spent too many years learning to pay attention.

"So he's been through all that?"

"More than you know."

I looked down at the name on the page.

Then I asked the question that had been bothering me since he'd walked into my office.

"Did you tell him anything about me?"

Rita went quiet.

"No."

The answer was firm enough that I believed her.

"I didn't tell him anything about your kidnapping, Blaire."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

I released a breath and let my shoulders drop slightly.

"Okay."

"But..." she added.

I waited.

"You haven't forgotten that the killer wasn't exactly hiding what he was doing, right?"

My stomach tightened.

"I know."

The words came out quieter than I'd intended.

Everyone knew about the Red Dress Killer. The victims had been taken in public places, their disappearances reported almost immediately, and the investigation had involved witnesses, surveillance footage, missing-person reports, and more theories than anyone could count. 

Yet somehow, the killer had remained ahead of the police every step of the way.

And I had been the only one who came back.

I hated that distinction.

I hated the way people sometimes looked at me as though surviving had somehow made me special when all it had really done was leave me with memories I couldn't fully remember and nightmares I couldn't seem to escape.

"Blaire," Rita said softly, pulling me from my thoughts. "Whatever Cole wants, just be careful."

"I will."

"I mean it."

"I know."

We stayed quiet for another moment, and then movement outside my office caught my attention.

I looked through the glass wall.

George.

Chief George Harrison was walking quickly down the corridor with a folder tucked beneath one arm and his phone pressed to his ear. There was nothing unusual about him being busy, but something about the way he was moving immediately caught my attention. 

He was rushing.

The same way he rushed out when I started asking questions about the old investigation.

My instincts stirred again.

"Rita, I have to go."

"What's wrong?"

"I'll call you later."

"Blaire—"

"I promise."

I ended the call before she could ask anything else, grabbed my phone and hurried out of my office.

"Chief!"

George continued walking.

I quickened my pace until I caught up with him near the end of the corridor.

"Hey, boss."

He slowed before turning around, and the moment our eyes met, something in his expression shifted.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

I folded my arms across my chest.

"Actually, I was about to ask you the same thing."

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

"What do you mean?"

I studied him for a moment, taking in the tired look around his eyes and the way his fingers remained wrapped tightly around the folder beneath his arm.

"Mind telling me why you've been avoiding me, boss?"